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AN  ANALYSIS  OF  MR.  LOCKE'S  DOCTRINE  OF  IDEAS  FN    £ 


The  Word  Idea  oortlprehmdt  wAatWwff  w  «**  °bJret  °* 

L  IDEAS  NOT   INNATE 

J.   Because  ilis  of  no  use  to  mpjpo&e  tbem  50.  boWj    •   ^  ._, 

2.  TJic  step*  to  knowledge  discoverable.  itiiJ.  .ma  f  '*' 

3.  Nq(  perceived  in  a  state  ..(  infancy,  b.  i.e.  2.  §  &• 

4.  Reason  necessary  to  their  discovery,  ibid.  §  9- 

5.  lde»o/God,  not  iDnatc.  c.  4.  §  8.  therefore  no  otMf.J 
f>.    Principle-  m>i  muai,  .  I>< ■,  ause  ideas  an?  not  SO 

!   Qi  e  nol  sufficient  to  prove  them  so. 
8.  Nor  universal  assent,  ibid. 

f  Specula!**. '    J- 


'"demanding,  ft.  I.e.  I.  6  8. 


To  front  paft  I   Fd  /. 


PAY  OIN  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 

IV.  IDEAS  C0NS1DKKED  WITH  REGARD  TO  THEIR  qjiAUTIM 
tl)  F  ,  See  also  the  preface. 

■  i.  dull  organ* 
'  :.  Sligbl  impri  ssions,  IB">. 

^  3.  Weak  memory,  ibid. 
frames,     10, and  b.  3,  c  »  ' 


i simple  ideasinlbe 


9.  Assent  not  Irulv  i 


5.  Language^ 


R 


I.JHeuun 

warily  ba'l.' 

i.  Power  v  Vli" 


■  .  7, 


i  principles.  J  Practical.  *-*■  per  tot.  and  c.  4.  VT. 
1  of  all  these, '"en  may  justly  demanda 
[The  true  ground  of  morality,  ibid.  §  6. 
Men  think  nol  ahvajs  t>.  2.  < ..  I.  ■>  10,  ix.  c.  I?-  §  J. 

To  suppose  the  contrary  would  Ik-  making  different  persons  in  the  same  being,  b. 
And  having  thought*  that  conic  neither  from  sens*('"ii  nor  reflection,  ibid.  §  17. 
Probable  that  thinking  may  he  no  more  than  an  actum  of  the  soul.  ibid,  and  c.  19.  §  4. 
Impossible  to  determine  whether  God  may  not  annex  thought  to  a  solid  substance,  b. 
Whence  the  opinion  of  innate  ideas,  b. 


|  bounds. 
I  Tastes, 

Smell;, 
Motion 
(.Rest, 
ligation  often  altered  hy  the  pi  dement,  c.  9 
''I.  The  tirst  step  toward-  knowledge,  c.  9.  ft  15. 

2.  Employed  about  ideas,  c.  9.  §  1. 

3.  Distinguished  from  naked  or  passive  perception,  ibid,  and 
ption."}  4.  Not  necessary  upon  the  action  of  objects 

5.  Common  to  all  animals.  5§  II,  12. 

6.  Distinguished  into  three  kinds  with  respect  to  its  objects, 
ft.  Contemplation,  c.  10.  §  1. 

C  Assisted  by  attention  and  repetition,  J.  3, 
|  2.  Memory.  §  2.    2  The  mind  often  active  in  '     " 
(Belongs  to  brutes.  §  10. 

Chance 
Habit.  { 
t  Antipathies 

C  1.  Clear  ideas  necessary  to  it,  c.  II,  § 

3.  Discerning.  <  2.   Wit  lies  in  assembling  ideas,  .>  2. 

(3.  Judgment  in  separating  them,  ibid. 
'    I .  TIi' rice  ideas  of  n- Kit  ions,  c.  11,5  4. 

4.  Comparing,  j  2i  j$e|ongS  |mt  mipeifently  to  brute's,  ibid. 

5.  Compound-  <  Hencc  iJea6  o)  autnb<,n  aml  other  sj      .         ^ 
mgorenlarging.  I 


rary  6ign; 

2.  Signs  of  ideas,  not  of  things,  ibid. 

3  Its  U;u,  [Recording  ideas,  c.  9.  §  2. 

t\  Communicating  them.  ibid.  ■ 
ct,  why.  c.  9. 
ral  abuses,  e.  10. 
remedies,  c.  II. 

aboutij^  words  so,  * 

How  made, 
iple  \  Ultimate  real  existence. 
*  Cannot  be  defined.  §  4. 

Least  doubtful  of  any. 
TSland  for  their  real 

3.  Naiii*ofm.sed. J  Tie  several  ideas  together 
moiic»e»fl.         "S  Got  before  their  ideas.  §  1 

(.Doubtful,  why.  c.  9.  §6. 

4  iNmuOsof  sub-       (How  made.  544. 
-u-*.c.  G.         J  Referred  to  \  ^al  essences.  ■: 

I  <  oexistniii  quah 

S<  "inn .■!.]  ideas  together.  §  1. 
Show  their  relation.  §  3,4. 
Marks  of  an  action  of  the  mind,  ibid 
■-"  "■'»'=.'.  fl.      NotpredKublcofe 
"  »tc.  ibid. 

|  Man  tree. 
J  Man  nut  free.  ■  ■: .;. 
(Determined  by' anxietv.      . 
W3.§8.b.2.  c.20.  '  ] 

He,.. 


\\ 


E  S  S  A  \ 


CONOERMIM. 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING, 


WRITTEN 

BY  JOHN  LOCKE,  GENT 

TO  WHICH  ARE  ADDED, 

X.   AN  ANALYSIS  OF  MR.  LOCKE'S  DOCTRINE  OF  IDEAS,  ON  A  LARGE  SHEET. 
II.   A    DEFENCE   OF    MR.  LOCKE'S    OPINION    CONCERNING    PERSONAL    IDENTITY, 

WITH  AN  APPENDIX. 
III.    A  TREATISE  ON  THE  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 
IV.   SOME  THOUGHTS  CONCERNING  READING  AND  STUDY  FOR  A  GENTLEMAN. 
V.    ELEMFNTS  OF  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHY. 
VI.    A  NF.W  METHOD  OF  A  COMMON-PLACE  BOOK. 

FXTR ACTED  FROM  THE  AUTHOR*S  WORKS. 

A  NEW  EDITION. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES, 
VOL.  I. 

KcUj=¥offe: 

PUBt/ISHED  HY  VALENTINE  REAM.VN 
I     k.  J.  Harper,  Printer;. 

1884 


PREFACE  BY  THE  EDITOR 


The  person  chiefly  concerned  in  improving  this  edition  of  Mr. 
Locke's  Essay,  having  long  entertained  an  high  esteem  for  that 
author's  writings,  and  being  informed  that  a  new  edition  was 
preparing,  became  naturally  desirous  of  seeing  one  more  com- 
plete than  any  of  the  foregoing ;  and  of  contributing  his  assist- 
ance towards  it,  (so  far  as  the  short  time  allowed  for  that  purpose 
would  give  leave)  by  not  only  collating  former  editions,  and  cor- 
recting those  numerous  errors  which  had  crept  into  most  of 
them ;  but  also  by  inserting,  or  giving  some  description  of 
such  other  pieces  as  are  known  to  have  come  from  the  same 
hand,  though  not  appearing  in  any  catalogue  or  collection  of  his 
works. 

The  farther  liberty  has  been  taken  to  subjoin  a  few  things  by 
other  hands,  which  seemed  necessary  to  a  right  use  of  Mr. 
Locke's  discoveries,  and  a  more  ready  application  of  the  princi- 
ples whereon  they  are  founded,  v*  g. 

1.  To  the  Essay  on  Human  Understanding  is  prefixed  a  cor- 
rect analysis,  which  has  been  of  considerable  service  by  redu- 
cing that  Essay  into  some  better  method,  which  the  author  himself 
shows  us,  (preface  and  elsewhere)  that  he  was  very  sensible  it 
wanted,  though  he  contented  himself  with  leaving  it  in  its  original 
form,  for  reasons  grounded  on  the  prejudices  then  prevailing 
against  so  novel  a  system  ;  but  which  hardly  now  subsist. 

This  map  of  the  intellectual  world,  which  exhibits  the  whole 
doctrine  of  ideas  in  one  view,  must  to  an  attentive  reader  appear 
more  commodious  than  any  of  those  dry  compends  generally 
made  use  of  by  young  students,  were  they  more  perfect  than 
even  the  best  of  them  are  found  to  be. 

2.  There  is  also  annexed  to  the  same  Essay  a  small  tract  in 
defence  of  Mr.  Locke's  opinion  concerning  personal  identity;  a 
point  of  some  consequence,  but  which  many  ingenious  persons, 
probably  from  not  observing  what  passed  between  him  and  Moly- 
neaux  on  the  subject,  [letters  in  September  and  December,  1693, 
and  January,  February,  May,  1694,]  have  greatly  misunderstood. 

It  may  perhaps  be  expected  that  we  should  introduce  this  edi- 
tion of  Mr.  Locke's  Essay  with  a  particular  history  of  the  author's 
circumstances  and  connexions;  but  as  several  narratives  of  this 
ivind   have  been  already  published  by  different  writers>  viz.  A. 


4  mil  FACE    B\     THE    E15ITOK. 

Wood,  [Ath.  Ox.  Vol.  2  ;]  P.  Costc,  [Character  of  Mr.  Locke  ;J 
Le  Clerc,  [first  printed  in  English  before  the  Letters  on  Tolera- 
tion, 1689,  but  more  complete  in  the  edition  of  1713,  from 
whence  the  chief  part  of  the  subsequent  lives  is  extracted ;] 
Locke's  Article  in  the  Supplement  to  Collier  Addend.  ;  and  by 
the  compilers  of  the  General  Dictionary,  Biographia  Britan- 
nica,  Memoirs  of  his  Life  and  Character,  1742,  &c.  &c.  and  since 
most  of  that  same  account  which  has  been  prefixed  to  some  late 
editions,  by  way  of  Life,  is  likewise  here  annexed,  there  seems 
to  be  little  occasion  for  transcribing  any  more  of  such  common 
occurrences,  as  are  neither  interesting  enough  in  themselves,  nor 
sufficiently  characteristic  of  the  author.  We  have  therefore 
chosen  to  confine  the  following  observations  to  a  critical  survey 
of  Mr.  Locke's  writings,  after  giving  some  account  of  his  literary 
correspondence,  and  of  such  anonymous  tracts  as  are  not  com- 
monly known  to  be  his,  but  yet  distinguishable  from  others  that 
have  been  imputed  to  him.  Besides  those  posthumous  pieces 
which  have  been  already  collected  by  Des  Maizeaux,  and  joined 
with  some  others  in  the  late  editions,  there  is  extant, 

1.  His  Introductory  Discourse  to  Churchill's  Collection  of 
Voyages,  [in  four  vols,  fol.]  containing  the  whole  History  of  Na- 
vigation from  its  Original  to  that  Time,  (A.  D.  1704)  with  a  Cata- 
logue and  Character  of  most  Books  of  Travels.* 

These  voyages  are  commonly  said  to  have  been  published 
under  his  direction.  They  were  presented  by  him  to  the  univer- 
sity of  Oxford  [v.  Collier's  Diet.]  That  he  was  well  versed  in 
such  authors  is  pretty  plain,  from  the  good  use  he  has  made  of 
them  in  his  essays  ;  and  the  introductory  discourse  is  by  no  means 
unworthy  of  him,  though  deemed  too  large  to  be  admitted  into 
this  publication  :  whether  it  may  be  added,  some  time  hence,  in 
a  supplemental  volume,  along  with  some  of  his  other  tracts  here- 
after mentioned,  must  be  submitted  to  the  public,  and  those  who 
are  styled  proprietors. 

2.  For  the  same  reason  we  are  obliged  to  suppress  another 
piece  usually  ascribed  to  him,  and  entitled,  The  History  of  our 
Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  related  in  the  Words  of  Scripture,  contain- 
ing, in  Order  of  Time,  all  the  Events  and  Discourses  recorded 
in  the  four  Evangelists,  &c.  8vo.  printed  for  A.  and  J.Churchill, 
1705,  concerning  which  a  learned  friend,  who  has  carefully  exa- 
mined, it,  gives  the  following  account :  "  I  am  inclined  to  think 
that  this  work  is  the  genuine  production  of  Mr.  Locke.  It  is 
compiled  with  accuracy  and  judgment,  and  is  in  every  respect 
worthy  of  that  masterly  writer.  1  have  compared  it  with  Mr. 
Locke's  Treatise  on  the  Reasonableness  of  Christianity,  and  find 
a  striking  resemblance  between  them  in  some  of  their  expres- 
sions, in  their  quotations  from  Scripture,  and  in  the  arrangement 
of  our  Saviour's  discourses."     Under  each  of  these  heads  this 

■*  To  the  present  edition  this  work  is  BftMeA 


PREFACE   BY  THE  EDITOR.  o 

ingenious  writer  has  produced  remarkable  instances  of  such 
resemblance,  but  too  particular  and  minute  to  be  here  recited  ; 
on  the  last  he  adds,  that  whoever  reads  the  Treatise  on  the  Rea- 
sonableness of  Christianity  with  the  least  attention,  will  perceive 
that  Mr.  Locke  has  every  where  observed  an  exact  chronological 
order  in  the  arrangement  of  his  texts,  which  arrangement  per- 
fectly corresponds  with  that  of  the  History.  It  wouid  have  been 
very  difficult  to  throw  a  multitude  of  citations  from  the  four 
Evangelists  into  such  a  chronological  series  without  the  assistance 
of  some  Harmony,  but  Mr.  Locke  was  too  cautious  a  reasoner 
to  depend  upon  another  man's  hypothesis  ;  I  am  therefore  per- 
suaded that  he  compiled  this  Harmony,  the  History  of  Christ,  for 
his  own  immediate  use,  as  the  basis  of  his  Reasonableness  of 
Christianity.  And  though  the  original  plan  of  this  history  may 
have  been  taken  from  Garthwaite's  Evangelical  Harmony,  4to. 
1633,  as  Dr.  Doddridge  supposes,  yet  the  whole  narrative  and 
particular  arrangement  of  facts  is  so  very  different,  that  Mr. 
Locke's  History  in  1705  may  properly  be  termed  a  new  work. 

3.  Select  Moral  Books  of  the  Old  Testament  and  Apocrypha, 
paraphrased,  viz.  Proverbs,  Ecclesiastes,  Wisdom,  and  Ecclesi- 
asticus,  in  one  vol.  12mo.  170b.  This  useful  work  is  given  by 
tradition  to  Mr.  Locke,  and  his  name  often  written  before  it 
accordingly.  It  was  printed  for  his  old  booksellers  A.  and  J. 
Churchill,  and  is  thought  by  some  good  judges  to  bear  evident 
marks  of  authenticity :  of  which  I  shall  only  observe  farther, 
that  by  the  method  there  taken  of  paraphrasing  these  writers  in 
one  close,  continued  discourse,  where  the  substance  is  laid  toge- 
ther and  properly  digested,  a  much  better  connexion  appears  to 
be  preserved,  and  the  author's  sense  more  clearly  expressed  than 
it  can  be  in  any  separate  exposition  of  each  verse,  with  all  the 
repetitions  usual  in  eastern  writings,  and  all  the  disadvantages 
arising  from  the  very  inaccurate  division  of  their  periods,  as  is 
hinted  in  the  judicious  preface  to  that  work. 

4.  A  letter  to  Mrs.  Cockburn,  not  inserted  before  in  any  col- 
lection of  Mr.  Locke's  pieces.  It  was  sent  with  a  present  of 
books  to  that  lady,  on  her  being  discovered  to  have  written  a 
Defence  of  his  Essay  against  some  Remarks  made  upon  it  by  Dr. 
T.  Burnet,  author  of  the  Theory  of  the  Earth,  &c.  Dr.  Burnet's 
Remarks  appeared  without  his  name  in  three  parts,  the  first  of 
which  was  animadverted  on  by  Mr.  Locke  at  the  end  of  his  Reply 
to  Bishop  Stillingfleet  in  1697  ;  the  two  others  were  left  to  the 
animadversion  of  his  friends.  .Mrs.  Cockburn,  to  whom  the 
letter  under  consideration  is  addressed,  finished  her  Defence  of 
the  Essay  in  December,  1701,  when  she  was  but  twenty  two 
years  old,  and  published  it  in  May,  1702,  the  author  being  indus- 
triously concealed  :  which  occasioned  Mr.  Locke's  elegant  com- 
pliment of  its  being  "  a  generosity  above  the  strain  of  that  grovel- 
ling age,  and  like  that  of  superior  spirits,  v>ho  assist  without 
showing  themselves."     In  1724  the  same  lady  wrote  a  letter  to 


<*  PREFACE  BY  THE  EDITOK. 

Dr.  Holdsworth  on  his  injurious  imputations  cast  upon  Mr. 
Locke  concerning  the  Resurrection  of  the  same  Body,  printed 
in  1726  ;  and  afterward  an  elaborate  Vindication  of  Mr.  Locke's 
Christian  Principles,  and  his  controversy  on  that  subject,  first 
published,  together  with  an  account  of  her  works,  by  Dr.  Birch, 
1751,  and  the  fore-mentioned  letter  added  to  the  collected  works 
of  Locke,  Vol.  x.  p.  314. 

5.  Of  the  same  kind  of  correspondence  is  the  curious  letter  to 
Mr,  Bold,  in  1699,  (which  is  also  inserted  in  the  tenth  vol.  p. 
315,)  as  corrected  from  the  original.  Mr.  Bold,  in  1699,  set 
forth  a  piece,  entitled,  Some  Considerations  on  the  principal 
Objections  and  Arguments  which  have  been  published  against 
Mr.  Locke's  Essay  ;  and  added  in  a  collection  of  tracts,  pub- 
lished 1706,  three  defences  of  his  Reasonableness  of  Christianity ; 
with  a  large  discourse  concerning  the  Resurrection  of  the  same 
Body,  and  two  letters  on  the  Necessary  Immateriality  of  created 
thinking  Substance. 

Our  author's  sentiments  of  Mr.  Bold  may  be  seen  at  large  in 
the  letter  itself,  Works,  Vol.  x.  p.  315. 

6.  Mr.  Locke's  fine  account  of  Dr.  Pococke  was  first  published 
in  a  collection  of  his  letters,  by  Curl,  1714,  (which  collection  is 
not  now  to  be  met  with)  and  some  extracts  made  from  it  by  Dr. 
Twells,  in  his  Life  of  that  learned  author,  [Theol.  Works,  Vol.  I, 
p.  83.]  The  same  is  given  at  full  length  by  Des  Maizeaux,  as  a 
letter  to  *  *  *  *,  (intending  Mr.  Smith  of  Dartmouth,  who  had 
prepared  materials  for  that  life)  but  without  specifying  either  the 
subject  or  occasion. 

7.  The  large  Latin  tract  of  Locke's  De  Toleratione  was  first 
introduced  in  the  late  4to.  edition  of  his  works ;  but  as  we  have  it 
translated  by  Mr.  Popple  to  the  author's  entire  satisfaction,  and 
as  there  is  nothing  extraordinary  in  the  language  of  the  original, 
it  was  judged  unnecessary  to  repeat  so  many  things  over  again  by 
inserting  it.  Perhaps  it  might  afford  matter  of  more  curiosity  to 
compare  some  parts  of  his  Essay  with  Mr.  Burridge's  Version, 
said  to  be  printed  in  1701,  about  which  he  and  his  friend  Moly- 
neaux  appeared  so  extremely  anxious,  but  which  he  tells  Lim- 
borch  (Aug.  1 701)  he  had  not  then  seen  ;  nor  have  we  learnt  the 
fate  of  this  Latin  version,  any  more  than  what  became  of  a 
French  one,  (probably  that  of  P.  Coste,  mentioned  under 
Locke's  article  in  the  General  Dictionary)  in  correcting  which 
he  (Mr.  Locke)  had  taken  very  great  pains,  and  likewise  altered 
many  passages  of  the  original,  in  order  to  make  them  more  clear 
and  easy  to  be  translated.*  Many  of  these  alterations  I  have 
formerly  seen  under  his  hand  in  the  library  at  Oates,  where  he 
spent  the  last  and  most  agreeable  part  of  his  life  in  the  company 
of  lady  Masham,  and  where  his  own  conversation  must  have 
proved  no  less  agreeable  and  instructing  to  that  lady,  since  by 

Biogr.  Britan.  p.  2999. 


PREFACE  BY  THE  EDITQIi. 


means  01  it,  as  well  as  from  an  education  under  the  eye  of  her 
father,  Cudworth,  she  appears  to  have  profited  so  much  as  to 
compose  a  very  rational  discourse,  entitled,  Occasional  Thoughts 
in  reference  to  a  virtuous  and  Christian  Life,  published  1705,  and 
frequently  ascribed  to  Mr.  Locke.  [See  particularly  Boyer's 
Annals  of  Queen  Anne,  Vol.  III.  p.  262.]  She  was  generally 
believed  (as  Le  Clerc  tells  us)  to  be  the  author  of  another 
discourse  on  the  Love  of  God,  in  answer  to  Mr.  Norris  • 
which  has  likewise  been  attributed  to  Mr.  Locke,  and  has 
his  name  written  before  it  in  a  copy,  now  in  the  library  of 
Sion  College,  but  others  give  it  to  Dr.  Whitby.  Of  the  same 
excellent  lady  Mr.  Locke  gives  the  following  character  to  Lim- 
borch  :  "  Ejus  [i.  e.  Historian  Inquisitionis]  lectionem  sibi  et 
utilissirnam  et  jucundissimam  fore  spondet  domina  Cudwortha. 
quae  paternoe  benignitatis  hasres  omnem  de  rebus  religionis  perse- 
eutionem  maxime  aversatur."  Lett.  June,  1691.  "Hospes 
mca  tyrannidi  ecclesiastical  inimicissima,  saspe  mihi  laudat  inge- 
nium  et  consilium  tuum,  laboremque  huic  operi  tarn  opportune 
impensum,  creditque  frustra  de  religionis  reformatione  et  Evan- 
gelii  propagatione  tantum  undique  strepitum  moveri.  dum  tyran- 
nis  in  ecclesia,  vis  in  rebus  religionis  (uti  passim  mos  est)  aliis 
sub  nominibus  utcunque  speciosis  obtinet  et  laudatur.'"'  Id. 
Nov.  1691. 

6.  We  cannot  in  this  place  forbear  lamenting  the  suppression 
of  some  of  Mr.  Locke's  treatises*  which  are  in  all  probability  not 
to  be  retrieved.  His  Right  Method  of  searching  after  Truth. 
which  Le  Clerc  mentions,  is  hardly  to  be  met  with  ;  nor  can  a 
I  raci  which  we  have  good  ground  to  believe  that  he  wrote,  in  the 
Unitarian  Controversy,  be  well  distinguished  at  this  distance  of 
time ;  unless  it  prove  to  be  the  following  piece,  which  some  inge- 
nious persons  have  judged  to  be  his ;  and  if  they  are  right  in  their 
conjecture,  as  I  have  no  doubt  but  they  are,  the  address  to  him- 
self that  is  prefixed  to  it  must  have  been  made  on  purpose  to 
conceal  the  true  author,  as  a  more  attentive  perusal  of  the  whole 
!  tact  will  convince  anyone,  and  at  the  same  time  show  what 
reason  there  was  for  so  extremely  cautious  a  proceeding  Part 
of  the  long  title  runs  thus  :  "  The  Exceptions  of  Mr.  Edwards  in 
bis  Causes  of  Atheism,  against  The  Reasonableness  of  Christian- 
ity as  delivered  in  the  Scriptures,  examined  and  found  unreason- 
able, unscriptural,  and  injurious.  &c.  London,  printed  in  the  year 
1G95,"  47  pages,  4to. 

It  is  uncertain  whether  he  lived  to  finish  that  System  of  Ethics 
which  his  friend  Molyneaux  so  frequently  recommended  to  him  : 
but  from  a  letter  to  the  same  person,  dated  April,  1698,  it  appears' 
that  he  had  several  plans  by  him,  which  either  were  never  exe 
cuted,  or  never  saw  the  light. 

Among  the  late  Mr.  Yorke's  papers,  burnt  in  his  chambers  in 
LincolnVInn,  were  many  of  Mr.  Locke's  letters  to  Lord  Som- 
•ncr^.  but  probably  no  copies  of  these  remain  :  which  must  prove 


U  PREFACE  BY  THE  EDITOR. 

an  irreparable  loss  to  the  public,  many  of  them  being  in  all  like- 
lihood written  on  subjects  of  a  political  nature,  as  that  eminent 
patriot  was  well  acquainted  with,  and  seems  to  have  availed  him- 
self considerably  of  Mr.  Locke's  principles  throughout  his  excel- 
lent treatise,  entitled.  The  Judgment  of  whole  Kingdoms  and 
Nations  concerning  the  Rights  and  Prerogatives  of  Kings,  and 
the  Rights,  Privileges,  and  Properties  of  the  People.  A  work 
which  seems  to  be  but  little  known  at  present,  though  there  was 
a  tenth  edition  of  it  in  1771.  The  conclusion  is  taken  almost 
verbatim  from  Mr.  Locke. 

9.  Thirteen  letters  to  Dr.  Mapletoft,  giving  some  account  of 
his  friends,  with  a  large  description  of  a  severe  nervous  disorder, 
and  his  method  of  treating  it,  and  frequent  intimations  of  his 
desire  to  succeed  the  doctor  in  his  professorship  at  Gresham 
College,  &c.  were  very  obligingly  communicated  by  a  grandson 
of  the  doctor's  ;  but  we  had  not  room  to  insert  them,  as  they  con- 
tain very  few  matters  of  literature,  to  which  our  inquiries  are 
chiefly  confined  at  present ;  nor  shall  we  be  excused  perhaps  for 
taking  notice  of  his  letter  to  the  Earl  of  **,  dated  May  G,  )  676, 
with  a  curious  old  MS.  on  the  subject  of  free  masonry,  published 
in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  September,  I  758. 

We  are  informed,  that  there  is  a  great  number  of  original  let- 
ters of  Mr.  Locke,  now  in  the  hands  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Tooke, 
chaplain  to  the  British  factory  at  Petersburgh ;  but  have  no 
proper  means  of  applying  for  them.* 

10.  Forty  letters  to  Edward  Clarke,  Esq.  M.P.  are  among  Dr. 
Birch's  papers  in  the  Museum,  but  of  like  unimportance.  Perhaps 
some  readers  think  that  the  late  editions  of  Mr.  Locke's  works 
are  already  clogged  with  too  many  of  that  kind  ;  however  I  shall 
give  one  of  these  for  a  specimen,  on  raising  the  value  of  coin,  as 
the  same  method  which  he  there  recommends,  viz.  of  weighing 
it,  has  of  late  been  practised.  See  the  letter  in  Vol.  x.  of  Locke's 
Works,  p.  320.  The  two  letters  from  Lord  Shaftesbury  and  Sir 
Peter  King  will  speak  for  themselves. 

11.  It  may  likewise  be  observed,  that  our  author  has  met 
with  the  fate  of  most  eminent  writers,  whose  names  give 
a  currency  to  whatever  passes  under  them,  viz.  to  have  many 
spurious  productions  fathered  on  him.  Beside  those  above- 
mentioned,  there  is  a  Common-place  Book  to  the  Bible,  first  pub- 
lished in  1693,  and  afterward  swelled  out  wilh  a  great  deal  of 
matter,  ill  digested,  and  all  declared  to  be  Mr.  Locke's  ;  but 
whatever  hand  he  might  be  supposed  to  have  in  the  original 
book  itself,  it  is  plain  he  had  none  in  that  preface,  which  is 
neither  sense  nor  English.     A  puerile  edition  of  iEsop's  Fables 

*  We  have  been  indulged  by  Mr.  Tooke  with  a  sight  of  some  papers,  'which 
came  into  his  hands  reputed  to  be  the  productions  of  Mr.  Locke.  Some  of  them 
are  evidently  not  his  :  and  of  those  which  have  any  importance  we  are  not  able 
just  now  to  ascertain  the  authenticity.  Among  the  latter  is  a  tragedy  entitle' 
Tamerlane  the  beneficent. — Ed,  of  the  present  Ed. 


PREFACE  BY  THE  EDITOR.  9 

lias  likewise  his  name  prefixed  to  it,  and  was  in  all  probability 
ascribed  to  him  for  no  better  reason  than  the  frequent  mention 
made  of  that  book  in  his  Thoughts  on  Education.  The  title  runs 
thus  :  "  jEsop's  Fables  in  English  and  Latin,  interlineary,  for  the 
benefit  of  those  who,  not  having  a  master,  would  learn  either  of 
those  tongues.  The  second  edition,  with  sculptures.  By  John 
Locke,  gent.     Printed  for  A.  Bettes worth,  172.3." 

12.  But  it  is  high  time  to  conduct  the  reader  to  Mr.  Locke's 
more  authentic  and  capital  productions,  the  constant  demand  for 
which  shows  that  the}'  have  stood  the  test  of  time ;  and  their 
peculiar  tendency  to  enlarge  and  improve  the  mind,  must  conti- 
nue that  demand  while  a  regard  to  virtue  or  religion,  science  or 
common  sense,  remains  among  us.  1  wish  it  were  in  my  power  to 
give  so  clear  and  just  a  view  of  these  as  might  serve  to  point  out 
their  proper  uses,  and  thereby  direct  young  unprejudiced  readers 
to  a  more  beneficial  study  of  them. 

The  Essay  on  Human  Understanding,  that  most  distinguished 
of  all  his  works,  is  to  be  considered  as  a  system,  at  its  first  appear- 
ance absolutely  new,  and  directly  opposite  to  the  notions  and  per- 
suasions then  established  in  the  world.     Now  as  it  seldom  hap- 
pens that  the  person  who  first  suggests  a  discovery  in  any  science 
is  at  the  same  time  solicitous,  or  perhaps  qualified  to  lay  open  all 
the   consequences  that   follow  from  it ;  in  such  a  work  much 
of  course  is  left  to  the  reader,  who   must  carefully  apply  the 
leading  principles  to  many  cases  and  conclusions  not  there  spe- 
cified.    To  what  else  but  a  neglect  of  this  application  shall  we 
impute  it  that  there  are  still  numbers  among  us  who  profess  to 
pay  the  greatest  deference  to  Mr.Locke,  and  to  be  well  acquainted 
with  his  writings,  and  would  perhaps  take  it  ill  to  have  this  pre- 
tension questioned  ;  yet  appear  either  wholly  unable,  or  unac- 
customed, to  draw  the  natural  consequence  from  any  one  of  his 
principal  positions  ?     Why,  for  instance,  do  we  still  continue  so 
unsettled  in  the  first  principles  and  foundation  of  morals  ?     How 
came  we  not  to  perceive  that  by  the  very  same  arguments 
which  that  great  author  used  with  so  much  success  in  extirpating 
innate  ideas,  he  most  effectually  eradicated  all  innate  or  connate 
senses,  instincts,  &c.  by  not  only  leading  us  to  conclude  that  every 
such  sense  must,  in  the  very  nature  of  it,  imply  an  object  corres- 
pondent to  and  of  the  same  standing  with  itself,  to.  which  it  refers 
[as   each  relative  implies  its  correlate,]  the  real  existence  of 
which  object  he  has  confuted  in  every  shape  :  but  also  by  show- 
ing that  for  each  moral  proposition  men  actually  want  and  may 
demand  a  reason  or  proof  deduced  from  another  science,  and 
founded  on  natural  good  and  evil :  and  consequently  where  no 
such  reason  can  be  assigned,*  these  same  senses,  or  instincts,  with 

See  a  very  accurate  explanation  of  Mr.  Locke's  Doctrine  on  this  head  and 
some  other?,  in   a  Philosophical  Discourse  on  the  Nature  of  Human  Being, 
prefixed  to  some  remarks  upon  Bishop  Berkeley's  Treatise  un  the  same  subject 
Printed  for  Dodslrv.  r 
VOL.  I 


10  PREFACE  BY  THE  EDITOR. 

whatever  titles  decorated,  whether  styled  sympathetic  or  senti- 
mental, common  or  intuitive, — ought  to  be  looked  upon  as  no 
more  than  mere  habits  ;  under  which  familiar  name  their  autho- 
rity is  soon  discovered,  and  their  effects  accounted  for. 

From  the  same  principles  it  may  be  collected  that  all  such 
pompous  theories  of  morals,  however  seemingly  diversified,  yet 
amount  ultimately  to  the  same  thing,  being  ail  built  upon  the 
same  false  bottom  of  innate  notions ;  and  from  the  history  of  this 
science  we  may  see  that  they  have  received  no  manner  of  im- 
provement (as  indeed  by  the  supposition  of  their  innateness  they 
become  incapable  of  any)  from  the  days  of  Plato  to  our  own; 
but  must  always  take  the  main  point,  the  ground  of  obligation, 
for  granted ;  which  is  in  truth  the  shortest  and  safest  way  of  pro- 
ceeding for  such  self-taught  philosophers,  and  saves  a  deal  of 
trouble  in  seeking  reasons  for  what  they  advance,  where  none 
are  to  be  found.  Mr.  Locke  went  a  far  different  way  to  work, 
at  the  very  entrance  on  his  Essay,  pointing  out  the  true  origin 
of  all  our  passions  and  affections,  i.  e.  sensitive  pleasure  and 
pain  ;  and  accordingly  directing  us  to  the  proper  principle  and 
end  of  virtue,  private  happiness,  in  each  individual ;  as  well  as 
laying  down  the  adequate  rule  and  only  solid  ground  of  moral 
obligation,  the  divine  will.  From  whence  also  it  may  well  be 
concluded  that  moral  propositons  are  equally  capable  of  cer- 
tainty, and  that  such  certainty  is  equally  reducible  to  strict  de- 
monstration here  as  in  other  sciences,  since  they  consist  of  the 
very  same  kind  of  ideas,  [viz.  general  abstract  ones,  the  true  and 
only  ground  of  all  general  knowledge  ;]  provided  always  that  the 
terms  be  once  clearly  settled,  in  which  lies  the  chief  difficulty, 
and  are  constantly  applied  (as  surely  they  may  be)  with  equal 
steadiness  and  precision  :  which  was  undoubtedly  Mr.  Locke's 
meaning  in  that  assertion  of  his  which  drew  upon  him  so  many 
solicitations  to  set  about  such  a  systematic  demonstration  of 
morals. 

In  the  same  plain  and  popular  introduction,  when  he  has  been 
proving  that  men  think  not  always,  [a  position  which,  as  he  ob- 
serves, letter  to  Molyneaux,  August  4,  1696,  was  then  admitted  in 
a  commencement  act  at  Cambridge  for  probable,  and  which  few 
there  nowadays  are  found  weak  enough  to  question]  how  come 
we  not  to  attend  him  through  the  genuine  consequences  of  that 
proof?  This  would  soon  let  us  into  the  true  nature  of  the  human 
constitution,  and  enable  us  to  determine  whether  thought,  when 
every  mode  of  it  is  suspended,  though  but  for  an  hour,  can  be 
deemed  an  essential  property  of  our  immaterial  principle,  or 
mind,  and  as  such  inseparable  from  some  imaginary  substance,  or 
substratum,  [words,  by  the  by,  so  far  as  they  have  a  meaning, 
taken  entirely  from  matter,  and  terminating  in  it]  any  more  than 
motion,  under  its  various  modifications,  can  be  judged  essential 
to  the  body,  or  to  a  purely  material  system.*     Of  that  same 

*  Vide  Defence  of  Locke's  Opinion  concerning  Personal  Identity,  Appendix  to 
ih'e  Thtfcft-y  of  Religion-,  p.  431-  &rc.  nitd  note  1.  to  Archibishop  King's  Or.  of  F 


I'ltEFACK  BY  THE  EDITOR.  )  J 

substance  or  substratum,  whether  material  or  immaterial,  Mi. 
Locke  has  farther  shown  us  that  we  can  form  but  a  very  im- 
perfect and  confused  idea,  if  in  truth  we  have  any  idea  at  all  of 
it,  though  custom  and  an  attachment  to  the  established  mode  of 
philosophizing  still  prevails  to  such  a  degree  that  we  scarcely 
know  how  to  proceed  without  it,  and  arc  apt  to  make  as  much 
noise  with  such  logical  terms  and  distinctions,  as  the  schoolmen 
used  to  do  with  their  principle  of  individuation,  substantial  forms. 
&c.  Whereas,  if  we  could  be  persuaded  to  quit  every  arbitrary 
hypothesis,  and  trust  to  fact  and  experience,  a  sound  sleep  any 
night  would  yield  sufficient  satisfaction  in  the  present  case,  which 
thus  may  derive  light  even  from  the  darkest  parts  of  nature  ;  and 
which  will  the  more  merit  our  regard,  since  the  same  point  has 
been  in  some  measure  confirmed  to  us  by  revelation,  as  our  au- 
thor has  likewise  shown  in  his  introduction  to  the  Reasonableness 
of  Christianity. 

The  above-mentioned  essay  contains  some  more  refined  specu- 
lations which  are  daily  gaining  ground  among  thoughtful  and 
intelligent  persons,  notwithstanding  the  neglect  and  the  contempt 
to  which  studies  of  this  kind  are  frequently  exposed.  And  when 
we  consider  the  force  of  bigotry  and  the  prejudice  in  favour  of 
antiquity  which  adheres  to  narrow  minds,  it  must  be  matter  of 
surprise  to  find  so  small  a  number  of  exceptions  made  to  some  of 
his  disquisitions  which  lie  out  of  the  common  road. 

That  well-known  chapter  of  Power  has  been  termed  the  worst 
part  of  his  whole  Essay,*  and  seems  indeed  the  least  defensible, 
and  what  gave  himself  the  least  satisfaction,  after  all  the  pains  he 
and  others  took  to  reform  it ;  [v.  letters  between  him  and  Moly- 
neaux  nnd  Limborch.  To  which  may  be  added  note  45  to  King^s 
Or.  of  E.  p.  220,  4th  edit.]  which  might  induce  one  to  believe 
that  this  most  intricate  subject  is  placed  beyond  human  reach  ; 
since  so  penetrating  a  genius  confesses  his  inability  to  see  through 
it.  And  happy  arc  those  inquirers  who  can  discern  the  extent 
of  their  faculties!  who  have  learnt  in  time  where  to  stop  and 
suspend  a  positive  determination  !  "  If  you  will  argue,"  says 
he,  "  for  or  against  liberty  from  consequences,  I  will  not  under- 
take to  answer  you  ;  for  I  freely  own  the  weakness  of  my 
understanding ;  that  though  it  be  unquestionable  that  there  is 
omnipotence  and  omniscience  in  God  our  Maker,  yet  I  cannot 
make  freedom  in  man  consistent  with  omnipotence  and  omni- 
science in  God,  though  I  am  as  fully  persuaded  of  both  as  of  any 
truths  I  most  firmly  assent  to  ;  and  therefore  I  have  long  left  ofl' 
the  consideration  of  that  question,  resolving  all  into  this  shorl 

Sir  Isaac  Newton  had  the  very  same  sentiments  with  those  of  our  author  on  the 
present  subject,  and  more  particularly  on  that,  state  to  which  he  was  approach- 
nig;  as  appears  from  a  conversation  held  with  him  a  little  before  his  death;  of 
which  I  have  been  informed  by  one  who  took  down  Sir  Isaac's  words  at  Ihe  time, 
and  since  read  them  them  to  me. 

•  Biogr,  Brit,  fhousrh  others  are  pleased  ttfstrlc  it  thefinejt, 


IS  J'REFACE  BY  THE  EDITOR. 

conclusion  ;  that  if  it  be  possible  for  God  to  make  a  free  agem, 
then  man  is  free  ;  though  I  see  not  the  way  of  it."  Letter  to  M. 
Jan.  -20,  1692-3. 

13.  Connected  in  some  sort  with  the  fore-mentioned  Essay, 
and  in  their  way  equally  valuable,  are  his  tracts  on  Education 
and  the  Early  Conduct  of  the  Understanding,  both  worthy,  as 
we  apprehend,  of  a  more  careful  perusal  than  is  commonly 
bestowed  upon  them,  the  latter  more  especially,  which  seems  to 
be  little  known  and  less  attended  to.  It  contains  an  easy  popu- 
lar illustration  of  some  discoveries  in  the  foregoing  Essay,  parti- 
cularly that  great  and  universal  law  of  nature,  the  support  of 
so  many  mental  powers,  (v.  g.  that  of  memory  under  all  its 
modifications)  and  Avhich  produces  equally  remarkable  effects  in 
the  intellectual,  as  that  of  gravitation  does  in  the  material  world; 
< — I  mean  the  association  of  ideas  :  the  first  hint  whereof  did  not 
appear  till  the  fourth  edition  of  his  Essay,  and  then  came  in  as  it 
were  by  the  by,  under  some  very  peculiar  circumstances,  and  in 
comparatively  trivial  instances  ;  the  author  himself  seeming  not 
to  be  sufficiently  aware  of  its  extensiveness,  and  the  many  uses 
to  which  it  is  applicable,  and  has  been  applied  of  late  by  several 
of  our  own  writers.  The  former  tract  abounds  with  no  less  curious 
and  entertaining  than  useful  observations  on  the  various  tempers 
and  dispositions  of  youth :  with  proper  directions  for  the  due 
regulation  and  improvement  of  them,  and  just  remarks  on  the 
too  visible  defects  in  that  point ;  nor  should  it  be  looked  upon  as 
merely  fitted  for  the  instruction  of  schoolmasters,  or  nurses,  but 
as  affording  matter  of  reflection  to  men  of  business  science,  and 
philosophy.  The  several  editions  of  this  treatise,  which  has 
been  much  esteemed  by  foreigners,  with  the  additions  made  to  it 
abroad,  may  be  seen  in  Gen.  Diet.  Vol.  VII.  p.  145. 

1 4.  Thus  much  may  serve  to  point  out  the  importance  of  some 
of  our  author's  more  private  and  recluse  studies  ;  but  it  was  not 
in  such  only  that  this  excellent  person  exercised  his  learning  and 
abilities.  The  public  rights  of  mankind,  the  great  object  of 
political  union  ;  the  authority,  extent,  and  bounds  of  civil  govern- 
ment in  consequence  of  such  union  ;  these  were  subjects  which 
engaged,  as  they  deserved,  his  most  serious  attention.  Nor  was 
he  more  industrious  here  in  establishing  sound  principles,  and 
pursuing  them  consistently,  than  firm  and  zealous  in  support  of 
them,  in  the  worst  of  times,  to  the  injury  of  his  fortune,  and  at 
the  peril  of  his  life,  (as  may  be  seen  more  fully  in  the  life  annex- 
ed ;)  to  which  may  be  added  that  such  zeal  and  firmness  must 
appear  in  him  the  more  meritorious,  if  joined  with  that  timorous- 
ness  and  irresolution  which  is  there  observed  to  have  been  part 
of  his  natural  temper,  p.  21.  Witness  his  famous  letter  from  a 
Person  of  Quality,  giving  an  account  of  the  debates  and  resolu- 
tions in  the  house  of  lords  concerning  a  bill  for  establishing  pas- 
sive obedience,  and  enacting  new  oaths  to  enforce  it :  [V.  Biogr. 
Brit.  p.  2996.  N.  1.]  which  letter^  together  with  some  supposed 


I'RETACE  BY  THE  EDITOR.  J  j 

communications  to  his  patron  Lord  Shaftesbury,  raised  such  a 
storm  against  him  as  drove  him  out  of  his  own  country,  and  long 
pursued  him  at  a  distance  from  it.  [lb.  p.  2997,  &zc.  from  A. 
Wood.]  This  letter  was  at  length  treated  in  the  same  way  that 
others  of  like  tendency  have  been  since,  by  men  of  the  same  spirit, 
who  are  ready  to  bestow  a  like  treatment  on  the  authors  them- 
selves, whenever  they  can  get  them  into  their  power.  Nor  will  it  be 
improper  to  remark  how  seasonable  a  recollection  of  Mr.  Locke's 
political  principles  is  now  become,  when  several  writers  have 
attempted,  from  particular  emergencies,  to  shake  those  universal 
and  invariable  truths  whereon  all  just  government  is  ultimately 
founded  ;  when  they  betray  so  gross  an  ignorance  or  contempt 
of  them,  as  even  to  avow  the  directly  opposite  doctrines,  viz.  that 
government  was  instituted  for  the  sake  of  governors,  not  of  the 
governed  ;  and  consequently  that  the  interests  of  the  former  are 
of  superior  consideration  to  any  of  the  latter  ; — that  there  is  an 
absolute  indefeasible  right  of  exercising  despotism  on  one  side, 
and  as  unlimited  an  obligation  of  submitting  to  it  on  the  other ; 
■ — doctrines  that  have  been  confuted  over  and  over,  and  exploded 
long  ago,  and  which  one  might  well  suppose  Mr.  Locke  must 
have  for  ever  silenced  l>.  I  :s  incomparable  treatises  upon  that 
subject,*  which  have  m  leed  exhausted  it ;  and  notwithstanding 
any  objections  that  have  } xt  been,  or  are  likely  to  be  brought 
against  them,  may,  I  apprehend,  be  fairly  justified,  and  however 
unfashionable  they'  grow,  continue  fit  <o  be  inculcated;  as  will 
perhaps  be  fully  made  appear  on  any  farther  provocation. 

15.  Nor  was  the  religious  liberty  of  mankind  less  dear  to  our 
author  than  their  civil  rights,  or  less  ably  asserted  by  him.  With 
what  clearness  and  precision  has  he  stated  the  terms  of  it,  and 
vindicated  the  subject's  just  title  to  it,  in  his  admirable  letters 
concerning  toleration  !  llow  closely  does  he  pursue  the  adver- 
sary through  all  his  subterfuges,  and  strip  intolerance  of  all  her 
pleas ! 

The  first  Lord  Shaftesbury  has  written  a  most  excellent  treatise 
on  the  same  subject,  entitled,  An  Essay  concerning  Toleration. 
1667,  which,  though  left  unfinished,  well  deserves  to  sec  the 
light ;  and  as  1  am  assured,  in  due  time  will  be  published  at  the 
end  of  his  lordship's  life,  now  preparing. 

16.  From  one  who  knew  so  well  how  to  direct  the  researches 
of  the  human  mind,  it  was  natural  to  expect  that  Christianity  and 
the  Scriptures  would  not  be  neglected,  but  rather  hold  the  chief 
place  in  his  inquiries.  These  were  accordingly  the  object  of  his 
more  mature  meditations;  which  were  no  less  successfully 
employed  upon  them,  as  may  be  seen  in  part  above.  His 
Reasonableness  of  Christianity,  as  delivered  in  !h.  Scriptures,  is 
a  work  that  will  richly  repay  the  labour  of  being  thoroughly 

>:  First  published  in  1698,  tin;  several  additions  to  which  (all,  I  believe,  inserted 
in  the  subsequent  editions.)  remain  under  his  own  han  '  in  tUe  library  of  Christ's 
College,  Cambridge 


14  1'ftEFACE  BY  THE  EDITO'K. 

studied,  together  with  both  its  Vindications,  by  all  those  who 
desire  to  entertain  proper  notions  concerning  the  pure,  primitive 
plan  of  Christ's  religion,  as  laid  down  by  himself ;  where  they 
will  also  meet  with  many  just  observations  on  our  Saviour's 
admirable  method  of  conducting  it.  Of  this  book,  among  other 
commendations,  Limborch  says,  "  Plus  ver;e  Theologian  ex  illo, 
quam  ex  operosis  multorum  Systematibus  hausisse  me  ingenue 
fateor."     Lett.  \Iarch  23,  1697. 

In  his  Paraphrase  and  Notes  upon  the  epistles  of  St.  Paul, 
how  fully  does  our  author  obviate  the  erroneous  doctrines,  (that 
of  absolute  reprobation  in  particular,)  which  had  been  falsely 
charged  upon  the  apostle  !  And  to  Mr.  Locke's  honour  it  should 
be  remembered,  that  he  was  the  first  of  our  commentators  who 
showed  what  it  was  to  comment  upon  the  apostolic  writings  :  by 
taking  the  whole  of  an  epistle  together,  and  striking  off  every 
signification  of  every  term  foreign  to  the  main  scope  of  it;  by 
peeping  this  point  constantly  in  view,  and  carefully  observing  each 
return  to  it  after  any  digression  ;  by  tracing  out  a  strict,  though 
sometimes  less  visible,  connexion  in  that  very  consistent  writer, 
St.  Paul ;  touching  the  propriety  and  pertinence  of  whose  wri- 
tings to  their  several  subjects  and  occasions,  he  appears  to  have 
formed  the  most  just  conception,  and  thereby  confessedly  led  the 
way  to  some  of  our  best  modern  interpreters.  Vide  Pierce, 
pref.  to  Coloss.  and  Taylor  on  Rom.  No.  60. 

I  cannot  dismiss  this  imperfect  account  of  Mr.  Locke  and  his 
works,  without  giving  way  to  a  painful  reflection,  which  the 
consideration  of  them  naturally  excites.  When  we  view  the 
variety  of  those  very  useful  and  important  subjects  which  have 
been  treated  in  so  able  a  manner  by  our  author,  and  become  sen- 
sible of  the  numerous  national  obligations  due  to  his  memory  on 
that  account,  with  what  indignation  must  we  behold  the  remains 
of  that  great  and  good  man,  lying  under  a  mean  mouldering 
tombstone,  [which  but  too  strictly  verifies  the  prediction  he  had 
given  of  it  and  its  little  tablet,  as  ipsa  brevi  pcritura]  in  an 
obscure  country  churchyard — by  the  side  of  a  forlorn  wood — 
while  so  many  superb  monuments  are  daily  erected  to  perpetuate 
names  and  characters  hardly  worth  preserving ! 

Books  and  Treatises  written,  or  supposed  to  be  written, 
by  Mr.  Locke. 

Epistola  dc  Tolerantia. 

The  History  of  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ. 

Select  Books  of  the  Old  Testament  and  Apocrypha  para- 
phrased. 

Introductory  Discourse  to  Churchill's  Collection  of  Voyages. 

Exceptions  of  Mr.  Edwards  to  the  Reasonableness  of  Chri«- 
tianity,  &c.  examined. 


PREFACE    BY    THE    EDITOR.  1  ^ 

Piece*  groundlessly  ascribed,  or  of  doubtful  authority. 

Occasional  Thoughts  in  reference  to  a  virtuous  and  Christian 

Life. 
Discourse  on  the  Love  of  God. 
Right  method  of  searching  after  Truth. 

Spurious  ones. 

Commonplace  Book  to  the  Bible. 
Interlineary  version  of  iEsop's  Fables. 

P.S.  Having  heard  that  some  of  Mr.  Locke's  MSS.  were  in 
the  possession  of  those  gentlemen  to  whom  the  library  at  Oates 
belonged,  on  application  made  to  Mr.  Palmer,  he  was  so  obliging 
as  to  offer  that  a  search  should  be  make  after  them,  and  orders 
given  for  communicating  all  that  could  be  found  there ;  but 
as  this  notice  comes  unhappily  too  late  to  be  made  use  of  on 
the  present  occasion,  I  can  only  take  the  liberty  of  intimating  it 
along  with  some  other  sources  of  intelligence,  which  I  have 
endeavoured  to  lay  open,  and  which  may  probably  afford  matter 
for  a  supplemental  volume,  as  above  mentioned. 


LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOK 


John  Locke,  one  of  the  greatest  philosophers  and  most  valuable 
Writers  who  have  adorned  this  country,  was  born  at  Wrington  in 
Somersetshire,  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  August,  1632.  His  father, 
who  had  been  bred  to  the  law,  acted  in  the  capacity  of  steward,  or 
court-keeper,  to  colonel  Alexander  Popham  ;  and,  upon  the  breaking 
out  of  the  civil  war,  became  a  captain  in  the  service  of  the  parliament. 
He  was  a  gentleman  of  strict  probity  and  economy,  and  possessed  of  a 
handsome  fortune  :  but,  as  it  came  much  impaired  into  the  hands  of 
his  son,  it  was  probably  injured  through  the  misfortunes  of  the  times. 
However,  he  took  great  pains  in  his  son's  education  ;  and  though, 
while  he  was  a  child,  he  behaved  towards  him  with  great  distance 
and  severity,  yet  as  he  grew  up,  he  treated  him  with  more  familiarity, 
till  at  length  they  lived  together  rather  as  friends,  than  as  two  per- 
sons, one  of  whom  might  justly  claim  respect  from  the  other.  When 
he  was  of  a  proper  age,  young  Locke  was  sent  to  Westminster  school .; 
where  he  continued  till  the  year  1651  ;  when  he  was  entered  a  stu- 
dent of  Christ-church  college,  in  the  university  of  Oxford.  Here 
he  so  greatly  distinguished  himself  by  his  application  and  proficiency, 
that  he  was  considered  to  be  the  most  ingenious  young  man  in  the 
college.  But,  though  he  gained  such  reputation,  in  the  university, 
he  was  afterward  often  heard  to  complain  of  the  little  satisfaction 
which  he  had  found  in  the  method  of  study  which  had  been  pre- 
scribed to  him,  and  of  the  little  service  which  it  had  afforded  him,  in 
enlightening  and  enlarging  his  mind,  or  in  making  him  more  exact  in 
his  reasonings.  For  the  only  philosophy  then  taught  at  Oxford  was 
the  Peripatetic,  perplexed  with  obscure  terms,  and  encumbered  with 
useless  questions.  The  first  books  which  gave  him  a  relish  for  the 
study  of  philosophy,  were  the  writings  of  Des  Cartes  ;  for  though 
he  did  not  approve  of  all  his  notions,  yet  he  found  that  he  wrote  with 
great  perspicuity.  Having  taken  his  degree  of  B.A.  in  1655,  and  that 
of  M.A.  in  1658,  Mr.  Locke  for  some  time  closely  applied  himself 
to  the  study  of  physic,  going  through  the  usual  courses  preparatory 
to  the  practice  ;  and  it  is  said  that  he  got  some  business  in  that  pro- 
fession at  Oxford.  So  great  was  the  delicacy  of  his  constitution, 
however,  that  he  was  not  capable  of  a  laborious  application  to  the 
medical  art  ;  and  it  is  not  improbable  that  his  principal  motive  in 
studying  it  was,  that  he  might  be  cpualified  when  necessary  to  act  as 
his  own  physician,     In  the  year  16(3-1,  he  accepted  of  an  offer  to  go 

Vol.  1.  3 


18  THE  LIFE    OP  THE    AUTHOR. 

abroad,  in  the  capacity  of  secretary  to  Sir  William  Swan,  who  was 
appointed  envoy  from  King  Charles  II.  to  the  Elector  of  Branden- 
burgh,  and  some  other  German  princes  ;  but  returning  to  England 
again  within  less  than  a  year,  he  resumed  his  studies  at  Oxford  with 
renewed  vigour,  and  applied  himself  particularly  to  natural  philoso- 
phy. 'While  he  was  at  Oxford,  in  1666,  an  accident  introduced  him 
to  the  acquaintance  of  Lord  Ashley,  afterward  Earl  of  Shaftesbury. 
That  nobleman,  having  been  advised  to  drink  the  mineral  waters  at 
Astrop,  for  an  abscess  in  his  breast,  wrote  to  Dr.  Thomas,  a  physi- 
cian in  Oxford,  to  procure  a  quantity  of  them  to  be  in  readiness 
against  his  arrival.  Dr.  Thomas,  being  obliged  to  be  absent  from 
home  at  that  time,  prevailed  with  his  friend  Mr.  Locke  to  execute 
this  commission.  But  it  happening  that  the  waters  were  not  ready 
on  the  day  after  Lord  Ashley's  arrival  through  the  fault  of  the  person 
who  had  been  sent  for  them,  Mr.  Locke  found  himself  obliged  to  wait 
on  his  lordship,  to  make  excuses  for  the  disappointment.  Lord 
Ashley  received  him  with  his  usual  politeness,  and  was  satisfied  with 
his  apology.  Upon  his  rising  to  go  away,  his  lordship,  who  had 
received  great  pleasure  from  his  conversation,  detained  him  to  sup- 
per, and  engaged  him  to  dinner  on  the  following  day,  and  even  to  drink 
the  waters,  that  he  might  have  the  more  of  his  company.  When  his 
lordship  left  Oxford  to  go  to  Sunning-hill,  he  made  Mr.  Locke  pro- 
mise to  visit  him  there  ;  as  he  did  in  the  summer  of  the  year  1667. 
Afterward  Lord  Ashley  invited  Mr.  Locke  to  his  house,  and  pre- 
vailed on  him  to  take  up  his  residence  with  him.  Having  now  se- 
cured him  as  an  inmate,  Lord  Ashley  was  governed  entirely  by  his 
advice,  in  submitting  to  have  the  abscess  in  his  breast  opened  ;  by 
which  operation  his  life  was  saved,  though  the  wound  was  never 
closed.  The  success  which  attended  this  operation  gave  his  lordship 
a  high  opinion  of  Mr.  Locke's  medical  skill,  and  contributed  to  in- 
crease his  attachment  to  him,  notwithstanding  that  he  regarded  this 
as  the  least  of  his  qualifications.  Sensible  that  his  great  abilities 
were  calculated  to  render  him  eminently  serviceable  to  the  world  in 
other  departments  of  knowledge,  he  would  not  suffer  him  to  practise 
medicine  out  of  his  house,  excepting  among  some  of  his  particular 
friends  ;  and  he  urged  him  to  apply  his  studies  to  state  affairs,  and 
political  subjects,  both  ecclesiastical  and  civil.  Mr.  Locke's  inclina- 
tion was  not  backward  in  prompting  him  to  comply  with  his  lordship's 
wishes  ;  and  he  succeeded  so  well  in  these  studies,  that  Lord  Ashley 
began  to  consult  him  upon  all  occasions. 

By  his  acquaintance  with  this  nobleman,  Mr.  Locke  was  introduced 
to  the  conversation  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  the  Earl  of  Halifax, 
and  other  of  the  most  eminent  persons  of  that  age,  who  were  all 
charmed  with  his  conversation.  The  freedom  which  he  would  take 
with  men  of  that  rank,  had  something  in  it  very  suitable  to  his  cha- 
racter. One  day,  three  or  four  of  these  lords  having  met  at  Lord 
Ashley's,  when  Mr.  Locke  was  present,  after  some  compliments, 
cards  were  brought  in,  before  scarcely  any  conversation  had  passed 
between  them.  Mr.  Locke  looked  on  for  some  time  while  they 
were  at  play,  and  then,  taking  his  pocket-book,  began  to  write  with 
great  attention.  At  length,  one  of  them  had  the  curiosity  to  ask  him 
what  he  was  writing.     "  My  lord,"  said  he,  '*  I  am  endeavouring  to 


THE  LIFE  6E  THH  AUTHOR.  19 

profit  as  far  as  I  am  able,  in  your  company  ;  for  having  waited  with 
impatience  for  the  honour  of  being  in  an  assembly  of  the  greatest 
geniuses  of  the  age,  and  having  at  length  obtained  this  good  fortune, 
1  thought  that  I  could  not  do  better  than  write  down  your  conversa- 
tion ;  and,  indeed,  1  have  set  down  the  substance  of  what  has  been 
said  for  this  hour  or  two."  Mr.  Locke  had  no  occasion  to  read  much 
of  what  he  had  written  :  those  noble  persons  saw  the  ridicule,  and 
diverted  themselves  with  improving  the  jest.  For,  immediately 
quitting  their  play,  they  entered  into  rational  conversation,  and  spent 
the  remainder  of  the  day  in  a  manner  more  suitable  to  their  charac- 
ter. In  the  year  1668,  at  the  request  of  the  Earl  and  Countess  of 
Northumberland,  Mr.  Locke  accompanied  them  in  a  tour  to  France, 
and  staid  in  that  country  with  the  countess,  while  the  earl  went  to- 
wards Italy,  with  an  intention  of  visiting  Rome.  But  this  nobleman 
dying  on  his  journey  at  Turin,  the  countess  came  back  to  England 
sooner  than  was  at  first  designed,  and  Mr.  Locke  with  her,  who  con- 
tinued to  reside,  as  before,  at  Lord  Ashley's.  That  nobleman,  who 
was  then  chancellor  of  the  exchequer,  having,  in  conjunction  with 
other  Lords,  obtained  a  grant  of  Carolina,  employed  Mr.  Locke  to 
draw  up  the  fundamental  constitutions  of  that  province.  In  executing 
this  task,  our  author  had  formed  articles  relative  to  religion,  and  pub- 
lic worship,  on  those  liberal  and  enlarged  principles  of  toleration, 
which  were  agreeable  to  the  sentiments  of  his  enlightened  mind  ;  but 
some  of  the  clergy,  jealous  of  such  provisions  as  might  prove  an 
obstacle  to  their  ascendancy,  expressed  their  disapprobation  of  them, 
and  procured  an  additional  article  to  be  inserted,  securing  the  counte- 
nance and  support  of  the  state  only  to  the  exercise  of  religion  ac- 
cording to  the  discipline  of  the  established  church.  Mr.  Locke  still 
retained  his  student's  place  at  Christ-church,  and  made  frequent 
visits  to  Oxford,  for  the  sake  of  consulting  books  in  the  prosecution 
of  his  studies,  and  for  the  benefit  of  change  of  air.  At  Lord  Ashley's 
he  inspected  the  education  of  his  Lordship's  only  son,  who  was  then 
about  sixteen  years  of  age  ;  and  executed  that  province  with  the 
greatest  care,  and  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of  his  noble  patron.  As 
the  young  lord  was  but  of  a  weakly  constitution,  his  father  thought 
proper  to  marry  him  early,  lest  the  family  should  become  extinct  by 
his  death.  And  since  he  was  too  young,  and  had  too  little  experience 
to  choose  a  wife  for  himself,  and  Lord  Ashley  had  the  highest  opinion 
of  Mr.  Locke's  judgment,  as  well  as  the  greatest  confidence  in  his 
integrity,  hedesired  him  to  make  a  suitable  choice  for  his  son.  This 
was  a  difficult  and  delicate  task:  for  though  Lord  Ashley  did  not  in- 
sist on  a  great  fortune  for  his  son,  yet  he  would  have  him  marry  a 
lady  of  good  family,  an  agreeable  temper,  a  fine  person,  and,  above 
all,  of  good  education  and  good  understanding,  whose  conduct  would 
be  very  different  from  that  of  the  generality  of  court  ladies.  Not- 
withstanding the  difficulties  attending  such  a  commission,  Mr.  Locke 
undertook  it,  and  executed  it  very  happily.  The  eldest  son  by  this 
marriage,  afterward  the  noble  author  of  the  Characteristics,  was 
committed  to  the  care  of  Mr.  Locke  in  his  education,  and  gave  evi- 
dence to  the  world  of  the  master-hand  which  had  directed  and  guided 
his  genius. 

In  1670.  and  in  the  following  vear,  Mr.  Locke  began  to  form  the 


20  THE  LIFE    OP  THE  AUTHOR. 

plan  of  his  Essay  on  Human  Understanding,  at  the  earnest  request  of 
some  of  his  friends,  who  were  accustomed  to  meet  in  his  chamber, 
for  the   purpose  of  conversing  on  philosophical  subjects  ;  but  the 
employments  and  avocations  which  were  found  for  him  by  his  patron, 
would  not  then  suffer  him  to  make  any  great  progress  in  that  work. 
About  this  time,  it  is  supposed,  he  was  made  fellow  of  the  Royal  So- 
ciety.  In  1672,  Lord  Ashley  having  been  created  Earl  of  Shaftesbury, 
and  raised  to  the  dignity  of  lord  high  chancellor  of  England,  appoint- 
ed Mr.  Locke  secretary  of  the  presentations  ;  but  he  held  that  place 
only  till  the  end  of  the  following  year,  when  the  earl  was  obliged  to 
resign  the  great  seal.     His  dismissal  was  followed  by   that  of  Mr. 
Locke,  to  whom  the  earl  had  communicated  his  most  secret  affairs, 
and  who  contributed  towards  the  publication  of  some  treatises,  which 
were  intended  to  excite  the  nation  to  watch   the  conduct  of  the  Ro- 
man Catholics,   and   to  oppose   the  arbitrary  designs  of  the   court. 
After  this  his  lordship,  who  was  still  president  of  the  Board  of  Trade, 
appointed  Mr.  Locke  secretary  to  the  same  ;  which  office  he  retained 
not  long,  the  commission  being  dissolved  in  the  year  1674.     In  the 
following  year,  he  was  admitted  to  the  degree  of  bachelor  of  physic  ; 
and  it  appears  that  he  continued  to  prosecute  this  study,  and  to  keep 
up  his  acquaintance  with  several  of  the  faculty.     In  what  reputation 
he  was  held  by  some  of  the  most  eminent  of  them,  we  may  judge 
from  the  testimonial  that  was  given  of  him  by  the  celebrated  Dr.  Sy- 
denham, in  his  book,  entitled,  Observationes  Medicae,  circa  Morborum 
Acutorum  Historiam   et  Curationem,   &c.     "  You  know  likewise," 
says  he,  "  how  much  my  method  has  been  approved  of  by  a  person 
who  has  examined  it  to  the  bottom,   and  who  is  our  common  friend, 
I  mean  Mr.  John  Locke,  who,  if  we  consider  his  genius,  and  pene- 
trating and   exact  judgment,    or   the  strictness    of  his    morals,  has 
scarcely  any  superior,  and  few  equals  now  living."     In  the  summer 
of  1675,  Mr.  Locke  being  apprehensive  of  a  consumption,  travelled 
into  France,  and  resided  for  some  time  at  Montpelier,  where  he  be- 
came acquainted  with  Mr.  Thomas  Herbert,  afterward  Earl  of  Pem- 
broke, to  whom  he  communicated  his  design  of  writing  his  Essay  on 
Human  Understanding.     From  Montpelier  he  went  to  Paris,  where 
he  contracted  a  friendship  with  M.  Justel,  the  celebrated  civilian, 
whose  house  was  at  that  time  the  place  of  resort  for  men  of  letters  ; 
and  where  a  familiarity  commenced  between  him  and  several  other 
persons    of  eminent   learning.      In    1679,   the  Earl   of  Shaftesbury 
being  again   restored   to  favour  at  court,  and  made  president  of  the 
council,  sent  to   request  that  Mr.  Locke  would  return  to  England, 
which  he  accordingly  did.     Within  six  months,  however,  that  noble- 
man was  again  displaced,  for  refusing  his  concurrence  with   the  de- 
signs of  the  court,  which  aimed  at  the  establishment  of  popery  and 
arbitrary  power  ;  and,  in  1602,  he  was  obliged  to  retire  to  Holland, 
to   avoid  a  prosecution  for  high  treason,   on  account  of  pretended 
crimes   of  which   he   was  accused.     Mr.   Locke   remained  steadily 
attached  to  his  patron,  following  him  into  Holland  ;  and  upon  his  lord- 
ship's death,  which  happened  soon  afterward,  he  did  not  think  it  safe 
to  return  to  England,  where  his  intimate  connexion  with  Lord  Shaftes- 
bury had  created  him  some  powerful  and  malignant  enemies.     Be- 
fore he  had  been  a  vear  in  Holland,  he  was  accused  at  the  English 


THE  LIFE  OP  THE  AUTHOR^  21 

court  of  being  the  author  of  certain  tracts  which  had  been  published 
against  the  government  ;  and,  notwithstanding  that  another  person 
was  soon  afterward  discovered  to  be  the  writer  of  them,  yet  as  he 
was  observed  to  join  in  company  at  the  Hague  with  several  English- 
men who  were  the  avowed  enemies  of  the  system  of  politics  on 
which  the  English  court  now  acted,  information  of  this  circumstance 
was  conveyed  to  the  Earl  of  Sunderland,  then  secretary  of  state. 
This  intelligence  Lord  Sunderland  communicated  to  the  king,  who 
immediately  ordered  that  Bishop  Fell,  then  dean  of  Christ-church, 
should  receive  his  express  command  to  eject  Mr.  Locke  from  his 
student's  place,  which  the  bishop  executed  accordingly.  After  this 
violent  procedure  of  the  court  against  him  in  England,  he  thought  it 
prudent  to  remain  in  Holland,  where  he  was  at  the  accession  of  King 
James  II.  Soon  after  that  event,  William  Penn,  the  famous  quaker, 
who  had  known  Mr.  Locke  at  the  university,  used  his  interest  with 
the  king  to  procure  a  pardon  for  him  ;  and  would  have  obtained  it, 
had  not  Mr.  Locke  declined  the  acceptance  of  such  an  offer,  nobly 
observing,  that  he  had  no  occasion  for  a  pardon,  since  he  had  not 
been  guilty  of  any  crime. 

In  the  year  1685,  when  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  and  his  party  were 
making  preparations  in  Holland  for  his  rash  and  unfortunate  enter- 
prise, the  English  envoy  at  the  Hague  demanded  that  Mr.  Locke, 
with  several  others,  should  be  delivered  up  to  him,  on  suspicion  of 
his  being  engaged  in  that  undertaking.  And  though  this  suspicion 
was  not  only  groundless,  but  without  even  a  shadow  of  probability,  it 
obliged  him  to  lie  concealed  nearly  twelve  months,  till  it  was  suffi- 
ciently known  that  he  had  no  concern  whatever  in  that  business. 
Toward  the  latter  end  of  the  yenr  1686,  he  appeared  again  in  pub- 
lic ;  and  in  the  following  year  formed  a  literary  society  at  Amster- 
dam, of  which  Liniborch,  Le  Clerc,  and  other  learned  men,  were 
members,  who  met  together  weekly  for  conversation  upon  subjects 
of  universal  learning.  About  the  end  of  the  year  1687,  our  author 
finished  the  composition  of  his  great  work,  the  Essay  concerning 
Human  Understanding,  which  had  been  the  principal  object  of  his 
attention  for  some  years  ;  and  that  the  public  might  be  apprised  of 
the  outlines  of  his  plan,  he  made  an  abridgment  of  it  himself,  vwhich 
his  friend  Le  Clerc  translated  into  French,  and  inserted  in  one  of  his 
*'  Bibliotheques."  This  abridgment  was  so  highly  approved  of  by 
all  thinking  persons,  and  sincere  lovers  of  truth,  that  they  expressed 
the  strongest  desire  to  see  the  whole  work.  During  the  time  of  his 
concealment,  he  wrote  his  first  Letter  concerning  Toleration,  in 
Latin,  which  was  first  printed  at  Gouda,  in  1689,  under  the  title  cf 
Epistola  de  Tolerantia,  &.c.  1 2mo.  This  excellent  performance, 
which  has  ever  since  been  held  in  the  highest  esteem  by  the  best 
judges,  was  translated  into  Dutch  and  French,  in  the  same  year,  and 
was  -A<o  printed  in  English  in  4to.  Before  this  work  made  its  ap- 
pearance, the  happy  Revolution  in  1688,  effected  by  the  courage  and 
good  conduct  of  the  Prince  of  Orange,  opened  the  way  for  Mr. 
Locke's  return  to  his  native  country  ;  whither  he  came  in  the  fleet 
which  conveyed  the  Princess  of  Orange.  After  public  liberty  had 
been  restored,  our  author  thought  it  proper  to  assert  his  own  private 
nirhts  ;  and  therefore  put  in  his  claim  to  the  student's  place  in  Christ- 


22  THE  LIFE  OP  THE  AUTHOR. 

church,  of  which  he  had  been  unjustly  deprived.  Finding,  however, 
that  the  society  resisted  his  pretensions,  on  the  plea  that  their  pro- 
ceedings had  been  conformable  to  their  statutes,  and  that  they  could 
not  be  prevailed  upon  to  dispossess  the  person  who  had  been  elected 
in  his  room,  he  desisted  from  his  claim  It  is  true,  that  they  made 
him  an  offer  of  being  admitted  a  supernumerary  student ;  but,  as  his 
sole  motive  in  endeavouring  to  procure  his  restoration  was,  that  such 
a  measure  might  proclaim  the  injustice  of  the  mandate  for  his  ejec- 
tion, he  did  not  think  proper  to  accept  it.  As  Mr.  Locke  was  justly 
considered  to  be  a  sufferer  for  the  principles  of  the  Revolution,  he 
might  without  much  difficulty  have  obtained  some  very  considerable 
post;  but  he  contented  himself  with  that  of  commissioner  of  appeals, 
worth  about  200/.  per  annum.  In  July,  1689,  he  wrote  a  letter  to 
his  friend  Limborch,  with  whom  he  frequently  corresponded,  in  which 
he  took  occasion  to  speak  of  the  act  of  toleration,  which  had  then 
just  passed,  and  at  which  he  expressed  his  satisfaction  ;  though  he  at 
the  Srime  time  intimated,  that  he  considered  it  to  be  defective  and 
not  sufficiently  comprehensive.  "  I  doubt  not,"  says  he,  "but  you 
have  already  heard,  that  toleration  is  at  length  established  among  us 
by  law.  Not,  however,  perhaps,  with  that  latitude  which  you,  and 
such  as  you,  true  Christians,  devoid  of  envy  and  ambition,  would 
have  wished.  But  it  is  somewhat  to  have  proceeded  thus  far.  And 
I  hope  these  beginnings  are  the  foundations  of  liberty  and  peace, 
which  shall  hereafter  be  established  in  the  church  of  Christ." 

About  this  time  Mr.  Locke  had  an  offer  to  go  abroad  in  a  public 
character;  and  it  was  left  to  his  choice  whether  he  would  be  envoy 
at  the  court  of  the  emperor,  the  elector  of  Brandenburgh,  or  any 
other  where  he  thought  that  the  air  would  best  agree  with  him  :  but 
he  declined  it  on  account  of  the  infirm  state  of  his  health.  In  the 
year  1690,  he  published  his  celebrated  Essay  concerning  Human 
Understanding  in  folio  ;  a  work  which  has  made  the  author's  name 
immortal,  and  does  honour  to  our  country  ;  which  an  eminent  and 
learned  writer  has  styled,  "  one  of  the  noblest,  the  usefulest,  the 
most  original  books  the  world  ever  saw."  But,  notwithstanding  its 
extraordinary  merit  it  gave  great  offence  to  many  people  at  the  first 
publication,  and  was  attacked  by  various  writers,  most  of  whose 
names  are  now  forgotten.  It  was  even  proposed,  at  a  meeting  of 
the  heads  of  houses  of  the  university  of  Oxford,  to  censure  and  dis- 
courage the  reading  of  it ;  and,  after  various  debates  among  them- 
selves, it  was  concluded,  that  each  head  of  a  house  should  endeavour 
to  prevent  it  from  being  read  in  his  college.  They  were  afraid  of 
the  light  which  it  poured  in  upon  the  minds  of  men.  But  all  their 
efforts  were  in  vain ;  as  were  also  the  attacks  of  its  various  oppo- 
nents on  the  reputation  either  of  the  work  or  its  author,  which  con- 
tinued daily  to  increase  in  every  part  of  Europe.  It  was  translated 
into  French  and  Latin,  and  the  fourth  in  English,  with  alterations  and 
additions,  was  printed  in  the  year  1700:  since  which  time  it  has 
passed  through  a  vast  number  of  editions.  In  the  year  1690,  like- 
wise, Mr.  Locke  published  his  second  Letter  concerning  Toleration, 
in  4to.,  written  in  answer  to  Jonas  Proast,  a  clergyman  of  Queen's- 
college,  Oxford,  who  published  an  attack  upon  the  First  Letter ;  and 
in  the  same  year  he  sent  into  the  world  his  Two  Treatises  on  Govern- 


THE  LIFE  OF  THE    AUTHOR.  23 

ment,  8vo.  These  valuable  treatises,  which  are  some  of  the  best 
extant  on  the  subject  in  any  language,  are  employed  in  refuting  and 
overturning  Sir  Robert  Filmer's  false  principles,  and  in  pointing  out 
the  true  origin,  extent,  and  end  of  civil  government.  About  this 
time  the  coin  of  the  kingdom  was  in  a  very  bad  state,  owing  to  its 
having  been  'so  much  clipped,  that  it  wanted  above  a  third  of  the 
standard  weight.  The  magnitude  of  this  evil,  and  the  mischiefs 
which  it  threatened,  having  engaged  the  serious  consideration  of 
parliament,  Mr.  Locke,  with  the  view  of  assisting  those  who  were 
at  the  head  of  affairs  to  form  a  right  understanding  of  this  matter,  and 
to  excite  them  to  rectify  such  shameful  abuse,  printed  Some  Con- 
siderations of  the  Consequences  of  lowering  the  Interest,  and  raising 
the  Value  of  Money,  1691,  8vo.  Afterward  he  published  some 
other  small  pieces  on  the  same  subject ;  by  which  he  convinced  the 
world,  that  he  was  as  able  to  reason  on  trade  and  business  as  on  the 
most  abstract  parts  of  sr  ience.  These  writings  occasioned  his  being 
frequently  consulted  by  the  ministry,  relative  to  the  new  coinage  of 
silver,  and  other  topics.  With  the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  then  lord 
keeper  of  the  privy  seal,  he  was  for  some  time  accustomed  to  hold 
weekly  conferences  ;  and  when  the  air  of  London  began  to  affect  his 
lungs,  he  sometimes  went  to  the  Earl  of  Peterborough's  seat,  near 
Fulham,  where  he  always  met  with  the  most  friendly  reception.  He 
was  afterward,  however,  obliged  to  quit  London  entirely,  at  least 
during  the  winter  season,  and  to  remove  to  some  place  at  a  greater 
distance.  He  had  frequently  paid  visits  to  Sir  Francis  Masham,  at 
Oates  in  Essex,  about  twenty  miles  from  London,  where  he  found 
that  the  air  agreed  admirably  well  with  his  constitution,  and  where  he 
also  enjoyed  the  most  delightful  society.  We  may  imagine,  there- 
fore, that  he  was  persuaded,  without  much  difficulty,  to  accept  of  an 
offer  which  Sir  Francis  made  to  give  him  apartments  in  his  house, 
where  he  might  settle  during  the  remainder  of  his  life.  Here  he 
was  received  upon  his  own  terms,  that  he  might  have  his  entire 
liberty,  and  look  upon  himself  as  at  his  own  house  ;  and  here  he 
chiefly  pursued  his  future  studies,  being  seldom  absent,  because  the 
air  of  London  grew  more  and  more  troublesome  to  him. 

In  1692,  Mr.  Locke  published  a  Third  Letter  for  Toleration,  to 
the  Author  of  the  Third  Letter  concerning  Toleration,  8vo.  ;  which 
being  replied  to  about  twelve  years  afterward,  by  his  old  antagonist, 
Jonas  P roast,  he  began  a  Fourth  Letter,  which  was  left  at  bis  death 
in  an  unfinished  state,  and  published  among  his  posthumous  pieces. 
In  1693,  he  published  bis  Thoughts  concerning  Education,  8vo. 
which  he  greatly  improved  in  subsequent  editions.  In  1695,  King 
William,  who  knew  how  to  appreciate  his  abilities  for  serving  the 
public,  appointed  him  one  of  the  commissioners  of  trade  and  planta- 
tions ;  which  obliged  him  to  reside  more  in  London  than  he  had  done 
for  some  time  past.  In  the  same  year  he  published  his  excellent 
treatise,  entitled,  The  Reasonableness  of  Christianity,  as  delivered 
id  the  Scriptures,  8vo.,  which  was  written,  it  is  said,  in  order  to  pro- 
mote the  scheme  which  King  William  had  so  much  at  heart,  of  a 
comprehension  with  the  dissenters.  This  book  having  been  attack- 
ed, in  the  following  year,  by  Dr.  Edwards,  in  his  Socinianism  Un- 
masked, and  in  a  manner  that  was  rude  and  scurrilous  ;  Mr.  Locke 


24  THE  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 

published,  in  the  same  year,  a  first  and  a  second  Vindication  of  the 
Reasonableness  of  Christianity,  &c.  8vo. ;  in  which  he  defended  his 
work  with  such  strength  of  argument,  that,  if  his  adversary  had 
been  an  ingenuous  one,  he  might  have  justly  expected  from  him  a 
public  acknowledgment  of  his  error.  Mr.  Locke's  defence  against 
Dr.  Edwards  was  also  ably  maintained  by  a  worthy  and  pious  clergy- 
man of  the  name  of  Bolde,  who  was  the  author  of  A  Collection  of 
Tracts,  published  in  Vindication  of  Mr.  Locke's  Reasonableness  of 
Christianity,  as  delivered  in  the  Scriptures,  and  of  his  Essay  concern- 
ing Human  Understanding,  in  8vo.  Scarcely  was  he  disengaged  from 
this  controversy,  before  he  was  drawn  into  another,  on  the  following 
occasion.  Some  time  before  this,  Mr.  Toland  published  a  book,  en- 
titled Christianity  not  Mysterious,  in  which  he  endeavoured  to  prove, 
"that  there  is  nothing  in  the  Christian  religion,  not  only  contrary  to 
reason,  but  even  nothing  above  it  ;"  and,  in  explaining  some  of  his 
notions,  he  made  use  of  several  arguments  from  Mr.  Locke's  Essay 
concerning  Human  Understanding.  About  the  same  time  several 
treatises  were  published  by  some  Unitarians,  maintaining  that  there 
was  nothing  in  the  Christian  religion  but  what  was  rational  and  intelli- 
gible, which  sentiment  had  been  advanced  by  Mr.  Locke.  The  use 
which  was  made  of  his  writings  in  these  instances,  determined  Dr. 
Stillingfleet,  Bishop  of  Worcester,  to  make  an  attack  upon  our  au- 
thor. Accordingly  in  his  Defence  of  the  Doctrine  of  the  Trinity, 
published  in  1697,  he  censured  some  passages  in  the  Essay  concern- 
ing Human  Understanding,  as  tending  to  subvert  the  fundamental  doc- 
trines of  Christianity.  Mr.  Locke  immediately  published  an  answer 
to  this  charge,  in  A  Letter  to  the  Right  Reverend  Edward,  Lord 
Bishop  of  Worcester,  &c.  to  which  the  bishop  replied  in  the  same 
year.  This  was  confuted  in  a  second  letter  of  Mr.  Locke's,  which 
drew  a  second  answer  from  the  bishop,  in  1698.  A  third  letter  of 
Mr.  Locke's  was  the  last  which  appeared  in  this  controversy,  the 
death  of  the  bishop  having  taken  place  not  long  after  its  publication. 
It  was  generally  admitted,  that  Mr.  Locke  had  greatly  the  advantage 
of  the  bishop  in  this  controversy.  When  speaking  of  it,  Mr.  Le 
Clerc  says,  "  Every  body  admired  the  strength  of  Mr.  Locke's  rea- 
sonings, and  his  great  clearness  and  exactness,  not  only  in  explaining 
his  own  notions,  but  in  confuting  those  of  his  adversary.  Nor  were 
men  of  understanding  less  surprised,  that  so  learned  a  man  as  the 
bishop  should  engage  in  a  controversy,  in  which  he  had  all  the  dis- 
advantages possible  :  for  he  was  by  no  means  able  to  maintain  his 
opinions  against  Mr.  Locke,  whose  reasoning  he  neither  understood, 
nor  the  subject  itself  about  which  he  disputed.  This  eminent  pre- 
late had  spent  the  greatest  part  of  his  time  in  the  study  of  ecclesiasti- 
cal antiquities,  and  reading  a  prodigious  number  of  books  ;  but  was  no 
great  philosopher  ;  nor  had  ever  accustomed  himself  to  that  close 
mode  of  thinking  and  reasoning,  in  which  Mr.  Locke  did  so  highly 
excel.  However,  though  our  excellent  philosopher  obtained  so  great 
a  victory  over  the  bishop,  and  had  reason  to  complain  of  his  unjust 
charges  against  him,  and  of  his  writing  on  subjects  of  which  he  had 
not  a  sufficient  knowledge,  yet  he  did  not  triumph  over  bis  ignorance, 
but  detected  and  confuted  his  errors  with  civility  and  respect."  And 
an  Irish  prelate,  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Molyneaux,  an  intimate  friend  of 


THE  Lit'E  OF  THE  AUVHOK.  2o 

Mr.  Locke,  thus  expresses  himself  upon  the  subject  :  "  )  liuve  read 
Mr,  Locke's  letter  to  the  bishop  of  Worcester  with  great  satisfaction, 
and  am  wholly  of  your  opinion,  that  he  lias  fairly  laid  the  great 
bishop  on  his  back  ;  but  it  is  with  so  much  gentleness,  as  if  he  were 
afraid  not  only  of  hurting  him,  but  even  of  spoiling  or  tumbling  his 
clothes.  Indeed,  i  cannot  tell  which  I  most  admire,  the  great  civility 
and  good  manners  in  his  book,  or  the  forcibleness  and  clearness  of  his 
reasonings." 

Mr.  Locke's  publications  in  the  controversy  above  mentioned  were 
(lie  last  which  were  committed  by  himself  to  the  press.     The  asth- 
matic complaint,  to  which  he  had   been  long  subject,  increasing  with 
his  years,  began  now  to  subdue  his  constitution,  and  render  him  very 
inlirm.     He,  therefore,  determined  to  resign  his  post  of  commissioner 
of  trade  and  plantations  ;  but  he  acquainted  none  of  his   friends  with 
his  design,  till  he  had  given  up  his  commission  into  the  king's   own 
hand.     His  majesty  was  very  unwilling  to  receive  it,  and  told  our  au- 
thor, that  he  would  be  well  pleased  with  his  continuance  in  that  office, 
though  he  should  give   little  or  no  attendance  ;  for  that  he  did  not 
desire  him  to  stay  in  town  one  day  to   the  injury  of  his  health.     But 
Mr.  Locke  told  the  king,  that  he  could  not  in  conscience  hold  a  place, 
to  which  a  considerable  salary  was  annexed,  without  discharging  the 
duties  of  it ;  upon  which  the  king  reluctantly  accepted  his  resigna- 
tion.    Mr.  Locke's  behaviour  in  this  instance  discovered  such  a  de- 
gree of  integrity  and  virtue,  as  reflects  more  honour  on  his  character 
than  his  extraordinary  intellectual  endowments.      His  majesty  enter- 
tained a  great  esteem  for  him,  and  would  sometimes  desire  his  attend- 
ance in  order  to  consult  with  him   on  public  affairs,  and  to  know  his 
sentiments  of  things.     From  this  time  Mr.  Locke  continued  altogether 
at  Oates,  in  which  agreeable  retirement  he  applied  himself  wholly  to 
the  study  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures.     In  this  employment  he  found  so 
much  pleasure,  that  he  regretted  his  not  having  devoted  more  of  his 
time  to  it  in  the  former  part  of  his  life.     And  his  great  regard  for  the 
sacred  writings   appears  from  his   answer  to  a  relation   who  had  in- 
quired of  him,   what   was  the  shortest  and  surest  way  for  a  young 
gentleman  to    attain   a   true  knowledge   of  the   Christian    religion  ? 
"  Let  him  study,"  said  Mr.  Locke,  "the   Holy  Scripture,  especially 
in  the  New   Testament.     Therein  are  contained  the  words  of  eter- 
nal   life.      It  has  Goil  for  its  autiior  ;  salvation  for  its  end  ;  and  truth 
without  any  mixture  of  error,  for  its  matter."  Mr.  Locke  now  found 
his  asthmatic  disorder  growing  extremely   troublesome,  though  it  did 
not  prevent  him  from  enjoying  great  cheerfulness  of  mind,     in  this 
situation  his  sufferings  were  greatly  alleviated  by  the  kind  attention 
and  agreeable  conversation  of  the   accomplished  lady   Masham,  who 
was  the  daughter  of  the  learned  Dr.  Cudvvorth  ;   as  this  lady  and  Mr. 
Locke  had  a  great  esteem  and  friendship  for  each  other.     At  the  com- 
mencement of  the  summer  of  the  year  1703,  a  season,  which,  in  for- 
mer years,  had   ahva\s   restored  him  some  degrees  of  strength,  he 
perceived  that  it  had  begun  to  fail  him  more  remarkably  than  ever. 
This  convinced   him  that  his  dissolution  was  at  no  great  distance,  and 
he  often  spoke  of  it  himself,  but  always  with  great  composure  ;  while 
he  omitted  none  of  the.  precautions  which,  from  his  skill  in  physic. 
he  knew  had  a  tendency  to  prolong  his  life.     A<  tenet  h  hi*  legs  be- 

Vru.    I  1 


£2t)  THE  LIFE    OP  TliEAUTHWK. 

gan  to  swell  ;  and  that  swelling  increasing  every  day,  his  strength 
visibly  diminished.  He  therefore  prepared  to  take  leave  of  the 
world,  deeply  impressed  with  a  sense  of  God's  manifold  blessings  to 
him,  which  he  took  delight  in  recounting  to  his  friends,  and  full  of  a 
sincere  resignation  to  the  divine  will,  and  of  firm  hopes  in  the  pro- 
mises of  future  life.  As  he  had  been  incapable  for  a  considerable 
time  of  going  to  church,  he  thought  proper  to  receive  the  sacrament 
at  home  ;'and  two  of  his  friends  communicating  with  him,  as  soon  as 
the  ceremony  was  finished  he  told  the  minister,  "  that  he  was  in  per- 
fect charity  with  all  men,  and  in  a  sincere  communion  with  the  church 
of  Christ  by  what  name  soever  it  might  be  distinguished."  He  lived 
some  months  after  this  ;  which  time  he  spent  in  acts  of  piety  and  de- 
votion. On  the  day  before  his  death, 'lady  Masham  being  alone  with 
him,  and  sitting  by  his  bed-side,  he  exhorted  her  to  regard  this  world 
only  as  a  state  of  preparation  for  a  better ;  adding  "  that  he  had 
lived  long  enough,  and  that  he  thanked  God  he  had  enjoyed  a  happy 
life  ;  but  that,  after  all,  he  looked  upon  this  life  to  be  nothing  but 
vanity."  He  had  no  rest  that  night;  and  resolved  to  try  to  rise  on 
the  following  morning  ;  which  he  did,  and  was  carried  into  his  study, 
where  he  was  placed  in  an  easy  chair,  and  slept  for  a  considerable 
time  seeming  a  little  refreshed,  he  would  be  dressed  as  he  used  to 
be  ;  and  observing  lady  Masham  reading  to  herself  in  the  Psalms 
while  he  was  dressing,  he  requested  her  to  read  aloud.  She  did  so  ; 
and  he  appeared  very  attentive,  till  feeling  the  approach  of  death,  he 
desired  her  to  break  off,  and  in  a  few  minutes  expired,  on  the  twenty- 
eighth  of  October,  1704,  in  the  seventy-third  year  of  his  age.  He 
was  interred  in  the  church  of  Oates,  where  there  is  a  decent  monu- 
ment erected  to  his  memory,  with  a  modest  inscription  in  Latin,  writ- 
ten by  himself. 

Thus  died  that  great  and  most  excellent  philosopher,  John  Locke, 
who  was  rendered  illustrious  not  only  by  his  wisdom,  but  by  his  piety 
and  virtue,  by  his  love  of  truth,  and  diligence  in  the  pursuit  of  it, 
and  by  his  generous  ardour  in  defence  of  the  civil  and  religious  rights 
of  mankind.  His  writings  have  immortalized  his  name  ;  and,  particu- 
larly, his  Essay  concerning  the  Human  Understanding.  In  this  work, 
"  discarding  all  systematic  theories,  he  has,  from  actual  experience 
and  observation,  delineated  the  features,  and  described  the  operations 
of  the  human  mind,  with  a  degree  of  precision  and  minuteness  not  to 
be  found  in  Plato,  Aristotle,  or  Des  Cartes.  After  clearing  the  way, 
by  setting  aside  the  whole  doctrine  of  innate  notions  and  principles, 
both  speculative  and  practical,  the  author  traces  all  ideas  to  two 
sources,  sensation  and  reflection  ;  treats  at  large  on  the  nature  of 
ideas,  simple  and  complex  ;  of  the  operations  of  the  human  under- 
standing in  forming  distinguishing,  compounding,  and  associating  them  ; 
of  the  manner  in  which  words  are  applied  as  representations  of  ideas  ; 
of  the  difficulties  and  obstructions  in  the  search  after  truth,  which 
arise  from  the  imperfections  of  these  signs  ;  and  of  the  nature,  re- 
ality, kinds,  degrees,  casual  hinderances,  and  necessary  limits,  ot 
human  knowledge.  Though  several  topics  are  treated  of  in  this 
work,  which  may  be  considered  as  episodical  with  respect  to  the 
main  design  ;  though  many  opinions  which  the  author  advances  may 
:whmf  of  controversy  ;  and  though  on  some  topics   he  may  not  have. 


THE  LIFE.  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  27 

expressed  himself  with  his  usual  perspicuity,  and  on  others  may  be 
thought  too  verbose  ;  the  work  is  of  inestimable  value,  as  a  history  of 
the  human  understanding,  not  compiled  from  former  books,  but  written 
from  materials  collected  by  a  long  and  attentive  observation  of  what 
passes  in  the  human  mind."     His   next  great  work,  the  Two  Trea- 
tises of  Government,  is   also  a  performance   which  will  render  his 
memory  dear   to  the  enlightened   friends  of  civil  and  religious  free- 
dom.    But  even  in  this  country,  the  constitution  of  which  is  defensi- 
ble only  on  the  principles  therein  laid  down,  it  has  been  violently 
opposed  by  the  advocates  for  those  slavish  doctrines  which  were  dis- 
carded at  the  Revolution  in  1688  ;  and  by  that  class  of  politicians, 
who  would  submit  to  the  abuses  and  corruptions  to  which  the  best 
systems  of  government  are  liable,   rather  than  encourage  attempts 
after  those  improvements  in  civil   policy,  which  the   extension   of 
knowledge,  and  of  science,  might  give  men  just  reason  to  hope   for, 
and  to  expect.     And  in  our  time,  we  have  seen  a  formal  attempt  made 
to  overturn  the  principles  of  Mr.   Locke's  work  by  Dr.   Tucker, 
Dean  of  Gloucester,  in  his  Treatise  on  Civil  Government,  published 
in  the  year   1781.     That  gentleman  was  pleased  to  assert,  that  the 
principles  of  Mr.  Locke  "  are  extremely  dangerous  to  the  peace  and 
happiness  of  all  society  ;"  that  his  writings,  and  those  of  some  of  the 
most  eminent  of  his  disciples,  ll  have  laid  a  foundation  for  such  dis- 
turbances  and  dissensions,  such  mutual  jealousies  and  animosities,  as 
ages  to  come  will  not  be  able  to  settle  and  compose  ;"  and,  speaking 
of  the  paradoxes  which  he  supposes  to  attend  the  system  of  Mr. 
Locke  and  his   followers,  he  asserted,  that  "  they  rendered  it  one  of' 
the  most  mischievous,  as  well  as  ridiculous  schemes,  that  ever  dis- 
graced the  reasoning  faculties  of  human  nature."     To  the  disgrace 
of  the  age,   it  was  for  a  time   fashionable  to  applaud  his  libel  on  the 
doctrines   of  our  author.     But   his  gross  misrepresentations  of  the 
principles  of  Mr.   Locke,  his  laborious   attempts   to  involve  him  in 
darkness  and  obscurity,   and  to  draw  imaginary  consequences  from 
his  propositions,  which  cannot  by  any  just  reasoning  be  deducible  from 
them,  were  ably  exposed  in   different  publications  ;  and  by  no  writer 
with  greater  force  and  spirit,  than  by  Dr.  Towers,  in  his  Vindication 
of  the  Political  Principles  of  Mr.  Locke,  in  Answer  to  the  Objections 
of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Tucker,  Dean  of  Gloucester,  published  in  1782,  iu 
octavo. 

Of  Mr.  Locke's  private  character  an  account  was  first  published  by 
Mr.  Peter  Coste,  who  had  lived  with  him  as  an  amanuensis,  which 
was  afterward  prefixed  by  M.  des  Maizeaux  to  A  Collection  of  seve- 
ral Pieces  of  Mr.  Locke,  never  before  printed,  &c,  published  in 
1720 ;  from  which,  together  with  M.  le  Clerc's  Bibliotheque  Choisie, 
we  shall  present  our  readers  with  some  interesting  particulars  relating 
"cthis  great  man.  Mr.  Locke  possessed  a  great  knowledge  of  the 
world,  and  was  intimately  conversant  in  the  business  of  it.  He  was 
prudent  without  cunning;  he  engaged  men's  esteem  by  his  probity  ; 
and  took  care  to  secure  himself  from  the  attacks  of  false  friends  and 
sordid  flatterers.  Averse  to  all  mean  compliance,  his  wisdom,  his 
experience  and  his  gentle  manner,  gained  him  the  respect  of  his  in- 
feriors, the  esteem  of  his  ecpjals,  the  friendship  and  confidence  of 
fh^se  of  the  highest  quality.     He  was  remarkable  for  the  ease  and 


28  THE  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 

politeness  ot'  his  behaviour ;  and  those  who  knew  him  only  by  his 
writings,  or  by  the  reputation  which  he  had  acquired,  and  who  had 
supposed  him  a  reserved  or  austere  man,  were  surprised,  if  they 
happened  to  be  introduced  to  him,  to  find  him  all  affability,  good- 
humour  and  complaisance.  If  there  was  any  thing  which  he  could 
not  bear,  it  was  ill  manners,  with  which  he  was  always  disgusted, 
unless  when  it  proceeded  from  ignorance  ;  but  when  it  was  the  effect 
of  pride,  ill-nature,  or  brutality,  he  detested  it.  Civility  he  con- 
sidered to  be  not  only  a  duty  of  humanity,  but  of  the  Christian  pro- 
fession, and  what  ought  to  be  more  frequently  pressed  and  urged 
Uf  *  n  men  than  it  commonly  is.  With  a  view  to  promote  it,  he  re- 
commended a  treatise  in  the  moral  essays  written  by  the  gentlemen 
of  Port  Royal,  "  concerning  the  means  of  preserving  peace  among 
men  j"  and  also  the  Sermons  of  Dr.  Wichcote  on  this  and  other  moral 
subjects.  He  was  exact  to  his  word,  and  religiously  performed  what- 
ever he  promised.  Though  he  chiefly  loved  truths  which  were  use- 
ful, and  with  such  stored  his  mind,  and  was  best  pleased  to  make 
them  the  subjects  of  conversation  ;  yet  he  used  to  say,  that,  in  order 
to  employ  one  part  of  this  life  in  serious  and  important  occupations, 
it  was  necessary  to  spend  another  in  mere  amusements  ;  and,  when 
an  occasion  natui'ally  offered,  he  gave  himself  up  with  pleasure  to 
the  charms  of  a  free  and  facetious  conversation.  He  remembered 
many  agreeable  stories,  which  he  always  introduced  with  great  pro- 
priety ,  and  generally  made  them  yet  more  delightful,  by  his  natural 
and  pleasant  manner  of  telling  them.  He  had  a  peculiar  art,  in  con- 
versation, of  leading  people  to  talk  concerning  what  they  best  under- 
stood. With  a  gardener,  he  conversed  of  gardening  ;  with  a  jeweller 
of  jewels  ;  with  a  chymist  of  chymistry,  &.c.  "  By  this,"  said  he 
"  I  please  those  men,  who  commonly  can  speak  pertinently  upon 
nothing  else.  As  they  believe  I  have  an  esteem  for  their  profession, 
they  are  charmed  with  showing  their  abilities  before  me  ;  and  I,  in 
the  meanwhile,  improve  myself  by  their  discourse."  And,  indeed, 
he  had  by  this  method  acquired  a  very  good  insight  into  all  the  arts. 
He  used  to  say  too,  that  the  knowledge  of  the  arts  contained  more  true 
philosophy,  than  all  those  fine  learned  hypotheses,  which,  having  no 
relation  to  the  nature  of  things,  are  fit  only  to  make  men  lose  their 
time  in  inventing  or  comprehending  them.  By  the  several  questions 
which  he  would  put  to  artificers,  he  would  find  out  the  secret  of  their 
art,  which  they  did  not  understand  themselves  :  and  often  give  them 
views  entirely  new,  which  sometimes  they  put  in  practice  to  their 
profit.  He  was  so  far  from  assuming  those  affected  airs  of  gravity, 
by  which  some  persons,  as  well  learned  as  unlearned,  love  to  distin- 
guish themselves  from  the  rest  of  the  world,. that,  on  the  contrary, 
he  looked  upon  them  as  infallible  marks  of  impertinence.  Nay,  some- 
times he  would  divert  himself  with  imitating  that  studied  gravity,  in 
order  to  turn  it  the  better  into  ridicule  ;  and  upon  such  occasions  he 
always  recollected  this  maxim  of  the  Dukedela  llochefoucault,  which 
he.  particularly  admired,  "■  that  gravity  is  a  mystery  of  the  body,  in- 
dented to  conceal  the  defects  of  the  mind."  One  thing,  which  those 
who  lived  any  time  with  Mr.  Locke  could  not  help  observing  in  him 
was,  that  he  used  his  reason  in  every  thing  he  did  ;  and  that  nothing 
that  was  useful  opemed  unworthv  of  hi*  attention  and  care.     He  often 


THE  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR.  x}!) 

used  to  say,  that  "  there  was  an  art  in  every  thing  ;"  and  it  was  easy 
for  any  one  to  see  it,  from  the  manner  in  which  he  went  ahout  the 
most  trifling  things. 

As  Mr.  Lor.ke  kept  utility  in  view  in  all  his  disquisitions,  he  es- 
teemed the  employments  of  men  only  in  proportion  to  the  good  which 
they  are  capable  of  producing.  On  this  account  he  had  no  great  value 
for  those  critics,  or  mere  grammarians,  who  waste  their  lives  in  com- 
paring words  and  phrases,  and  in  coming  to  a  determination  in  the 
choice  of  a  various  reading,  in  a  passage  of  no  importance.  He 
valued  yet  less  those  professed  disputants,  who  being  wholly  possessed 
with  a  desire  of  coming  off  with  victory,  fortify  themselves  behind 
the  ambiguity  of  a  word,  to  give  their  adversaries  the  more  trouble  ; 
and  whenever  he  had  to  argue  with  such  persons,  if  he  did  not  before- 
hand strongly  resolve  to  keep  his  temper,  he  was  apt  to  grow  some- 
what warm.  For  his  natural  disposition  was  irritable  ;  but  his  anger 
never  lasted  long.  If  he  retained  any  resentment,  it  was  against  him- 
self, for  having  given  way  to  such  a  ridiculous  passion,  which  as  he 
used  to  say,  may  do  a  great  deal  of  harm,  but  never  yet  did  the  least 
good.  He  was  charitable  to  the  poor,  excepting  such  as  were  idle 
or  profane,  and  spent  their  Sundays  in  ale-houses,  instead  of  attend- 
ing at  church.  And  he  particularly  compassionated  those,  who,  after 
they  had  laboured  as  long  as  their  strength  would  permit,  were  re- 
duced to  poverty.  He  said,  that  it  was  not  enough  to  keep  them 
from  starving,  but  that  a  provision  ought  to  be  made  for  them,  suffi- 
cient to  render  them  comfortable.  In  his  friendships  he  was  warm 
and  steady  ;  and,  therefore,  felt  a  strong  indignation  against  any  dis- 
covery of  treachery  or  insincerity  in  those  in  whom  he  confided. 
It  is  said,  that  a  particular  person,  with  whom  he  had  contracted  an 
intimate  friendship  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  life,  was  discovered  by 
him  to  have  acted  with  great  baseness  and  perfidy.  He  had  not  only 
taken  every  method  privately  of  doing  Mr.  Locke  what  injury  he 
could  in  the  opinion  of  those  with  whom  he  was  connected,  but  had 
also  gone  off  with  a  large  sum  of  money  which  was  his  property,  and 
at  a  time  too  when  he  knew  that  such  a  step  must  involve  him  in 
considerable  difficulties.  Many  years  after  all  intercourse  had,  by 
such  treachery,  been  broken  off  between  them,  and  when  Mr.  Locke 
was  one  of  the  lords  of  trade  and  plantations,  information  was  brought 
to  him  one  morning,  while  he  was  at  breakfast,  that  a  person  shabbily 
dressed  requested  the  honour  of  speaking  to  him.  Mr.  Locke,  with 
the  politeness  and  humanity  which  were  natural  to  him,  immediately 
ordered  him  to  be  admitted  ;  and  beheld,  to  his  great  astonishment, 
his  false  friend,  reduced  by  a  life  of  cunning  and  extravagance  to 
poverty  and  distress,  and  come  to  solicit  his  forgiveness,  and  to  im- 
plore his  assistance.  Mr.  Locke  looked  at  him  for  some  time  very 
steadfastly,  without  speaking  one  word.  At  length,  taking  out  a  fifty 
pound  note,  he  presented  it  to  him  with  the  following  remarkable 
declaration  :  "  Though  I  sincerely  forgive  your  behaviour  to  me, 
yet  I  must  never  put  it  in  your  power  to  injure  me  a  second  time. 
Take  this  trifle,  which  I  give,  not  as  a  mark  of  my  former  friend- 
ship, but  as  a  relief  to  j  our  present  wants,  and  consign  to  the  service 
of  your  necessities,  without  recollecting  how  little   you  deserve,  it. 


3fc)  THE  LIFE   OP  THE  AUTHOR. 

No  reply  !     It  is  impossible  to  regain  my  good  opinion  ;  for  know, 
friendship  once  injured  is  for  ever  lost." 

Mr.  Locke  was  naturally  very  active,  and  employed  himself  as 
much  as  his  health  would  permit.  Sometimes  he  diverted  himself 
by  working  in  the  garden,  at  which  he  was  very  expert.  He  loved 
walking  ;  but  being  prevented  by  his  asthmatic  complaint  from  taking 
much  of  that  exercise,  lie  used  to  ride  out  after  dinner,  either  on 
horseback  or  in  an  oy.e.n  chaise,  as  he  was  able  to  bear  it.  His  bad 
health  occasioned  disturbance  to  no  person  but  himself;  and  persons 
might  be  with  him  without  any  other  concern  than  that  created  by 
seeing  him  suffer.  He  did  not  differ  from  others  in  the  article  of 
diet  ;  but  his  ordinary  drink  was  only  water ;  and  this  he  thought 
was  the  cause  of  his  having  his  life  prolonged  to  such  an  age,  not- 
withstanding the  weakness  of  his  constitution.  To  the  same  cause, 
also,  he  thought  that  (he  preservation  of  his  eyesight  was  in  a  great 
measure  to  be  attributed  ;  for  he  could  read  by  candlelight  all  sorts 
of  books  to  the  last,  if  they  were  not  of  a  very  small  print  ;  and  he 
had  never  made  use  of  spectacles.  He  had  no  other  disorder  but 
his  asthma,  excepting  a  deafness  of  six  months'  continuance  about  four 
years  before  his  death.  Writing  to  a. friend,  while  labouring  under 
this  affliction,  he  observed,  that  since  it  had  entirely  deprived  him  of 
the  pleasures  of  conversation,  "he  did  not  know  but  it  was  better  to 
be  blind  than  deaf."  Among  the  honours  paid  to  the  memory  of  this 
great  man,  that  of  Queen  Caroline,  consort  of  king  George  II.,  ought 
not  to  be  overlooked  ;  for  that  princess,  having  erected  a  pavilion  in 
Richmond  park  in  honour  of  philosophy,  placed  in  it  our  author's  bust, 
with  those  of  Bacon,  Newton,  and  Clarke,  as  the  four  prime  English 
philosophers.  Mr.  Locke  left  several  MSS.  behind  him,  from  which 
his  executors,  Sir  Peter  King,  and  Anthony  Collins,  Esq.  published 
in  1705,  his  Paraphrase  and  Notes  upon  St.  Paul's  Epistle  to  the  Gala- 
tians,  in  quarto,  which  were  soon  followed  by  those  upon  the  Corin- 
thians, Romans,  and  Ephesians,  with  an  Essay  prefixed  for  the  under- 
standing of  St.  Paul's  Epistles,  by  consulting  St.  Paul  himself.  In 
1706,  Posthumous  works  of  Mr.  Locke  were  published  in  octavo, 
comprising  a  treatise  On  the  Conduct  of  the  Understanding,  supple- 
mentary to  the  author's  essay :  An  Examination  of  Malebranche's 
Opinion  of  seeing  all  Things  in  God,  &c.  In  1708,  Some  Familiar 
Letters  between  Mr.  Locke  and  several  of  his  Friends,  were  also 
published  in  octavo  ;  and  in  1720,  M.  des  Maizeaux's  Collection,  al- 
ready noticed  by  us.  But  all  our  author's  works  have  been  collected 
together,  and  frequently  reprinted,  in  three  vols,  folio,  in  four  vols, 
quarto,  and  in  ten  vols,  octavo. 


THE  RIGHT  HONOURABLE  THOMAS, 

EARL  OF  PEMBROKE  AND  MONTGOMERY; 

BABON  HERBERT  OF  CARDIFF,   LORD  ROSS  OF     KENDAL,  PAR,  F1TZHUGH, 

MARMION,  ST.  QUINTIN,  AND  SHURLAND  ;    LORD   PRESIDENT  OF 

HIS    MAJESTY'S  MOST  HONOURABLE    PRIVY  COUNCIL, 

AND  LORD    LIEUTENANT  OF    THE    COUNTY 

OF    WILTS,  AND  SOUTH    WALES. 


MY    LORD, 

This  Treatise,  which  is  grown  up  under  your  lordship's  eye,  and 
has  ventured  into  the  world  by  your  order,  does  now,  by  a  natural 
kind  of  right,  come  to  your  lordship  for  that  protection,  which  you 
several  years  since  promised  it.  It  is  not  that  I  think  any  name,  how 
great  soever,  set  at  the  beginning  of  a  book,  will  be  able  to  cover 
the  faults  that  are  to  be  found  in  it.  Things  in  print  must  stand  and 
fall  by  their  own  worth,  or  the  reader's  fancy.  But  there  being  no- 
thing more  to  be  desired  for  truth  than  a  fair,  unprejudiced  hearing, 
nobody  is  more  like  to  procure  me  that  than  your  lordship,  who  an: 
allowed  to  have  got  so  intimate  an  acquaintance  with  her,  in  her  more 
retired  recesses.  Your  lordship  is  known  to  have  so  far  advanced 
your  speculations  in  the  most  abstract  and  general  knowledge  of 
things  beyond  the  ordinary  reach,  or  common  methods,  that  your 
allowance  and  approbation  of  the  design  of  this  treatise  will  at  least 
preserve  it  from  being  condemned  without  reading  ;  and  will  pre 
vail  to  have  those  parts  a  little  weighed,  which  might  otherwise,  per- 
haps, be  thought  to  deserve  no  consideration,  for  being  somewhat  out 
of  the  common  road.  The  imputation  of  novelty  is  a  terrible  charge 
among  those  who  judge  of  men's  heads,  as  they  do  of  their  perukes, 
by  the  fashion  ;  and  can  allow  none  to  be  right,  but  the  received  doc- 
trines. Truth  scarce  ever  yet  carried  it  by  vote  any  where  at  its 
fust  appearance  :  new  opinions  are  always  suspected,  and  usually 
opposed  without  any  other  reason,  but  because  they  are  not  already 
common.  But  truth,  like  gold,  is  not  the  less  so  for  being  newly 
brought  out  of  the  mine.  It  is  trial  and  examination  must  give  it 
price,  and  not  any  antique  fashion  :  and  though  it  be  not  yet  current 
by  the  public  stamp  •  yet  it  may,  for  all  that,  be  as  old  as  nature,  and 
is  certainly  not  the  less  genuine.  Your  lordship  can  give  great  and 
convincing  instances  of  this,  whenever  you  please  to  oblige  the  pub- 
lic with  some  of  those  large  and  comprehensive  discoveries  you  have 
made  of  truths   hitherto  unknown,  unless  to  some  few,  from  whom 


32  THE  EPISTLE  DEDICATOR*. 

your  lordship  lias  been  pleased  not  wholly  to  conceal  them.  Tbis 
alone  were  a  sufficient  reason,  were  there  no  other,  why  I  should 
dedicate  this  Essay  to  your  lordship  ;  and  its  having  some  little  cor- 
respondence with  some  parts  of  that  nobler  and  vast  system  of  the 
sciences  your  lordship  has  made  so  new,  exact,  and  instructive  a 
draught  of,  I  think  it  glory  enough,  if  your  lordship  permit  me  to 
boast,  that  here  and  there  1  have  fallen  into  some  thoughts  not  wholly 
different  from  yours.  If  your  lordship  think  fit,  that,  by  your  en- 
couragement, this  should  appear  in  the  world,  I  hope  it  may  be  a 
reason  some  time  or  other,  to  lead  your  lordship  farther  ;  and  you 
will  allow  me  to  say,  that  you  here  give  the  world  an  earnest  of  some- 
thing, that,  if  they  can  bear  with  this,  will  be  truly  worthy  their  ex- 
pectation. This,  my  lord,  shows  what  a  present  I  here  make  to 
your  lordship  ;  just  such  as  the  poor  man  does  to  his  rich  and  great 
neighbour,  by  whom  the  basket  of  flowers  or  fruit  is  not  ill  taken, 
though  he  has  more  plenty  of  his  own  growth,  and  in  much  greater 
perfection.  Worthless  things  receive  a  value,  when  they  are  made 
the  offerings  of  respect,  esteem,  and  gratitude  :  these  you  have  given 
me  so  mighty  and  peculiar  reasons  to  have,  in  the  highest  degree,  for 
your  lordship,  that  if  they  can  add  a  price  to  what  they  go  along 
with,  proportionable  to  their  own  greatness,  I  can  with  confidence 
brao-  1  here  make  your  lordship  the  richest  present  you  ever  re- 
ceived. This  I  am  sure,  1  am  under  the  greatest  obligations  to  seek 
all  occasions  to  acknowledge  a  long  train  of  favours  I  have  received 
from  your  lordship  :  favours,  though  great  and  important  in  them- 
selves, yet  made  much  more  so  by  the  forwardness,  concern,  and 
kindness,  and  other  obliging  circumstances,  that  never  failed  to  ac- 
company them.  To  all  this,  you  are  pleased  to  add  that  which  gives 
vet  more  weight  and  relish  to  all  the  rest :  you  vouchsafe  to  continue 
me  in  some  degrees  of  your  esteem,  and  allow  me  a  place  in  your 
o-ood  thoughts  ;  I  had  almost  said  friendship.  This,  my  lord,  your 
words  and  actions  so  constantly  show  on  all  occasions,  even  to  others 
when  I  am  absent,  that  it  is  not  vanity  in  me  to  mention  what  every 
body  knows  :  but  it  would  be  want  of  good  manners,  not  to  acknow- 
ledge what  so  many  are  witnesses  of,  and  every  day  tell  me,  I  am  in- 
debted to  your  lordship  for.  I  wish  they  could  as  easily  assist  my 
gratitude,  as  they  convince  me  of  the  great  and  growing  engagements 
it  has  to  your  lordship.  This  I  am  sure,  I  should  write  of  the 
understanding  without  having  any,  if  I  were  not  extremely  sensible 
of  them,  and  did  not  lay  hold  on  this  opportunity  to  testify  to  the 
world,  how  much  I  am  obliged  to  be,  and  how  much  I  am. 
My  Lord, 

Your  lordship's 

Most  humble,  and 

Most  obedient  servant, 

JOHN  LOCKE. 

Dorset-Court,  'Mtk 
of  May,  lf.80 


EPISTLE  TO  THE  READER 


READER, 

•  I  here  put  into  thy  hands,  what  has  been  the  diversion  of 
some  of  my  idle  and  heavy  hours :  if  it  has  the  good  luck  to 
prove  so  of  any  of  thine,  and  thou  hast  hut  half  so  much  plea- 
sure in  reading,  as  1  had  in  writing  it,  thou  wilt  as  little  think 
thy  money,  as  I  do  my  pains,  ill  bestowed.  Mistake  not  this  for 
a  commendation  of  my  work  ;  nor  conclude,  because  I  was 
pleased  with  the  doing  of  it,  that  therefore  I  am  fondly  taken 
with  it  now  it  is  done.  He  that  hawks  at  larks  and  sparrows,  has 
no  less  sport,  though  a  much  less  considerable  quarry,  than  he 
that  flies  at  nobler  game  :  and  he  is  little  acquainted  with  the 
subject  of  this  treatise,  the  understanding,  who  does  not  know., 
that  as  it  is  the  most  elevated  faculty  of  the  soul,  so  it  is  employ- 
ed with  a  greater  and  more  constant  delight  than  any  of  the  other. 
Its  searches  after  truth  are  a  sort  of  hawking  and  hunting,  wherein 
the  very  pursuit  makes  a  great  part  of  the  pleasure.  Every  step 
the  mind  takes  in  its  progress  towards  knowledge,  makes  some 
discovery,  which  is  not  only  new,  but  the  best  too,  for  the  time  at 
least. 

For  the  understanding,  like  the  eye,  judging  of  objects  only  by 
its  own  sight,  cannot  but  be  pleased  with  what  it  discovers, 
having  less  regret  for  what  has  escaped  it,  because  it  is  unknown. 
Thus  he  who  has  raised  himself  above  the  alms-basket,  and,  not 
content  to  live  lazily  on  scraps  of  begged  opinions,  sets  his  own 
thoughts  on  work,  to  find  and  follow  truth,  will  (whatever  he 
lights  on)  not  miss  the  hunter's  satisfaction ;  every  moment  of 
his  pursuit  will  reward  his  pains  with  some  delight,  and  he  will 
have  reason  to  think  his  time  not  ill  spent,  even  when  he  cannot 
much  boast  of  any  great  acquisition. 

This,  reader,  is  the  entertainment  of  those  who  let  loose  their 
own  thoughts,  and  follow  them  in  writing ;  which  thou  oughtest 
not  to  envy  them,  since  they  afford  thee  an  opportunity  of  the 
like  diversion,  if  thou  wilt  make  use  of  thy  own  thoughts  in  read- 
ing. It  is  to  them,  if  they  arc  thy  own,  that  1  refer  myself:  but 
if  they  are  taken  upon  trust  from  others,  it  is  no  great  matter 
what  they  arc.  <hcv  not  following  truth,  but  some  meaner  con 

Vol,  I 


34  THE  EPISTLE  TO  THE  READER- 

sideratiofi :  and  it  is  not  worth  while  to  be  concerned,  what  he 
says  or  thinks,  who  says  or  thinks  only  as  he  is  directed  by  ano- 
ther. If  thou  judgest  for  thyself,  1  know  thou  wilt  judge  can- 
didly ;  and  then  I  shall  not  be  harmed  or  offended,  whatever  be 
thy  censure.  For  though  it  be  certain,  that  there  is  nothing  in 
this  treatise,  of  the  truth  whereof  I  am  not  fully  persuaded ;  yet 
I  consider  myself  as  liable  to  mistakes,  as  1  can  think  thee,  and 
know  that  this  book  must  stand  or  fall  with  thee,  not  by  any 
opinion  I  have  of  it,  but  thy  own.  If  thou  findest  little  in  it  new 
or  instructive  to  thee,  thou  art  not  to  blame  me  for  it.  It  was 
not  meant  for  those  that  had  already  mastered  this  subject,  and 
made  a  thorough  acquaintance  with  their  own  understandings; 
but  for  my  own  information,  and  the  satisfaction  of  a  few  friends, 
who  acknowledged  themselves  not  to  have  sufficiently  considered 
it.  Were  it  fit  to  trouble  thee  with  the  history  of  this  Essay,  I 
should  tell  thee,  that  five  or  six  friends  meeting  at  my  chamber, 
and  discoursing  on  a  subject  very  remote  from  this,  found  them- 
selves quickly  at  a  stand,  by  the  difficulties  that  rose  on  every 
side.  After  we  had  a  while  puzzled  ourselves,  without  coming 
anv  nearer  a  resolution  of  those  doubts  which  perplexed  us,  it 
came  into  my  thoughts,  that  we  took  a  wrong  course  :  and  that 
before  we  set  ourselves  upon  inquiries  of  that  nature,  it  was  ne- 
cessary to  examine  our  own  abilities,  and  see  what  objects  our 
understandings  were,  or  were  not,  fitted  to  deal  with.  This  I 
proposed  to  the  company,  who  all  readily  assented  5  and  there- 
upon it  was  agreed,  that  this  should  be  our  first  inquiry.  Some 
hasty  and  undigested  thoughts  on  a  subject  I  had  never  before 
considered,  which  I  set  down  against  our  next  meeting,  gave  the 
first  entrance  into  this  discourse  ;  which  having  been  thus  be- 
<nin  by  chance,  was  continued  by  entreaty  ;  written  by  incohe- 
rent parcels  ;  and  after  long  intervals  of  neglect,  resumed  again, 
as  my  humour  or  occasions  permitted  ;  and  at  last,  in  a  retire- 
ment, where  an  attendance  on  my  health  gave  me  leisure,  it  was 
brought  into  that  order  thou  now  seest  it. 

This  discontinued  way  of  writing  may  have  occasioned,  besides 
others,  two  contrary  faults,  viz.  that  too  little  and  too  much  may 
be  said  in  it.  If  thou  findest  any  thing  wanting,  I  shall  be  glad, 
that  what  I  have  writ  gives  thee  any  desire  that  I  should  have 
gone  farther  :  if  it  seems  too  much  to  thee,  thou  must  blame  the 
subject ;  for  when  I  put  pen  to  paper,  I  thought  all  I  should  have 
to  say  on  this  matter  would  have  been  contained  in  one  sheet  of 
paper ;  but  the  farther  I  went,  the  larger  prospect  I  had  ;  new 
discoveries  led  me  still  on,  and  so  it  grew  insensibly  to  the  bulk 
it  now  appears  in.  I  will  not  deny,  but  possibty  it  might  be  re- 
duced to  a  narrower  compass  than  it  is  ;  and  that  some  parts  of 
it  might  be  contracted  ;  the  way  it  has  been  writ  in,  by  catches, 
and  many  long  intervals  of  interruption,  being  apt  to  cause  some 
repetitions.  But  to  confess  the  truth.  I  am  now  too  lazy,  or  too 
n.ir-v  to  make  it  shorter. 


iHE  EPfSTLE  TO  THE  REABER. 

1  urn  not  ignorant  how  little  I  herein  consult  my  own  reputa- 
tion, when  I  knowingly  let  it  go  with  a  fault,  so  apt  to  disgust  tin- 
most  judicious,  who  arc  always  the  nicest  readers.  But  they 
who  know  sloth  is  apt  to  content  itself  with  any  excuse,  will  par- 
don me,  if  mine  has  prevailed  on  nic,  where,  I  think,  I  have  a 
very  good  one.  1  will  not  therefore  allege  in  my  defence,  that 
the  same  notion,  having  different  respects,  may  he  convenient  or 
necessary  to  prove  or  illustrate  several  parts  of  the  same  dis- 
course ;  and  that  so  it  has  happened  in  many  parts  of  this  :  but 
waiving  that,  I  shall  frankly  avow,  that  1  have  sometimes  dwelt 
long  upon  the  same  argument,  and  expressed  it  different  ways, 
with  a  quite  different  design.  I  pretend  not  to  publish  this 
Essay  for  the  information  of  men  of  large  thoughts,  and  quick 
apprehensions ;  to  such  masters  of  knowledge  I  profess  myself  a 
scholar,  and  therefore  warn  them  beforehand  not  to  expect  any 
thing  here,  but  what,  being  spun  out  of  my  own  coarse  thoughts, 
is  fitted  to  men  of  my  own  size;  to  whom,  perhaps,  it  will  not  be 
unacceptable,  that  I  have  taken  some  pains  to  make  plain  and 
familiar  to  their  thoughts  some  truths,  which  established  preju- 
dice, or  the  abstractedness  of  the  ideas  themselves,  might  render 
difficult.  Some  objects  had  need  be  turned  on  every  side ;  and 
when  the  notion  is  new,  as  I  confess  some  of  these  are  to  me,  or 
out  of  the  ordinary  road,  as  1  suspect  they  will  appear  to  others  ; 
it  is  not  one  simple  view  of  it,  that  will  gain  it  admittance  into 
every  understanding,  or  fix  it  there  with  a  clear  and  lasting  im- 
pression. There  are  few,  I  believe,  who  have  not  observed  in 
themselves  or  others,  that  what  in  one  wray  of  proposing  was 
very  obscure,  another  way  of  expressing  it  has  made  very  clear 
and  intelligible :  though  afterward  the  mind  found  little  differ- 
ence in  the  phrases,  and  wondered  why  one  failed  to  be  under- 
stood more  than  the  other.  But  every  thing  does  not  hit  alike 
upon  every  man's  imagination.  We  have  our  understandings  no 
less  different  than  our  palates ;  and  he  that  thinks  the  same  truth 
shall  be  equally  relished  by  every  one  in  the  same  dress,  may  as 
well  hope  to  feast  every  one  with  the  same  sort  of  cookery  :  the 
meat  may  be  the  same,  and  the  nourishment  good,  yet  every  one 
not  be  able  to  receive  it  with  that  seasoning ;  and  it  must  be 
dressed  another  way,  if  you  will  have  it  go  down  with  some, 
even  of  strong  constitutions.  The  truth  is,  those  who  advised 
me  to  publish  it,  advised  me,  for  this  reason,  to  publish  it  as  it  is: 
and  since  I  have  been  brought  to  let  it  go  abroad,  I  desire  it 
should  be  understood  by  whoever  gives  himself  the  pains  to  read 
it ;  I  have  so  little  affection  to  be  in  print,  that  if  1  were  not  flat- 
tered this  Essay  might  be  of  some  use  to  others,  as  I  think  it  has 
been  to  me,  I  should  have  confined  it  to  the  view  of  some  friends, 
who  gave  the  first  occasion  to  it.  My  appearing  therefore  in 
print,  being  on  purpose  to  be  as  useful  as  I  may.  1  think  it  neces- 
sary to  make  what  I  have  to  say  as  easy  and  intelligible  to  all  sorts 
of  readers  as  I  cani     And   I  had  much  rather  the  speculative 


36  J  HE  EPISTLE  TO  THE  READER. 

and  quick-sighted  should  complain  of  my  being  in  some  parli- 
fedious,  than  that  any  one,  not  accustomed  to  abstract  specula- 
tions, or  prepossessed  with  different  notions,  should  mistake,  or 
not  comprehend  my  meaning. 

It  will  possibly  be  censured  as  a  great  piece  of  vanity  or  inso- 
lence in  me,  to  pretend  to  instruct  this  our  knowing  age ;  it 
amounting  to  little  less,  when  {  own,  that  !  publish  this  Essay 
with  hopes  it  may  be  useful  to  others.  But  if  it  may  be  permit- 
ted to  speak  freely  of  those,  who  with  a  feigned  modesty  con- 
demn as  useless,  what  they  themselves  write,  meihinks  it  savours 
much  more  of  vanity  or  insolence,  to  publish  a  book  for  any  other 
end  ;  and  he  fails  very  much  of  that  respect  he  owes  the  public, 
who  prints,  and  consequently  expects  men  should  read  that, 
wrherein  he  intends  not  that  they  should  meet  with  any  thing  of 
use  to  themselves  or  others  :  and  should  nothing  else  be  found 
allowable  in  this  treatise,  yet  my  design  will  not  cease  to  be  so  : 
and  the  goodness  of  my  intention  ought  to  be  some  excuse  for  the 
worthlessness  of  my  present.  It  is  that  chiefly  which  secures 
me  from  the  fear  of  censure,  which  I  expect  not  to  escape  more 
than  better  writers.  Men's  principles,  notions,  and  relishes  are 
so  different,  that  it  is  hard  to  find  a  book  which  pleases  or  dis- 
pleases all  men.  1  acknowledge  the  age  we  live  in  is  not  the 
least  knowing,  and  therefore  not  the  most  easy  to  be  satisfied. 
If  I  have  not  the  good  luck  to  please,  yet  nobody  ought  to.be 
offended  with  me.  I  plainly  tell  all  my  readers,  except  half  a 
dozen,  this  treatise  was  not  at  first  intended  for  them  ;  and  there- 
fore they  need  not  be  at  the  trouble  to  be  of  that  number.  But 
vet  if  any  one  thinks  fit  to  be  angry,  and  rail  at  it,  he  may  do  it 
securely  :  for  I  shall  find  some  better  way  of  spending  my  time 
1han  in  such  kind  of  conversation.  I  shall  always  have  the  satis- 
faction to  have  aimed  sincerely  at  truth  and  usefulness,  though  in 
one  of  the  meanest  ways.  The  commonwealth  of  learning  is 
not  at  this  time  without  master-builders,  whose  mighty  designs  in 
advancing  the  sciences,  will  leave  lasting  monuments  to  the  ad- 
miration of  posterity  :  but  every  one  must  not  hope  to  be  a 
Boyle,  or  a  Sydenham  :  and  in  an  age  that  produces  such  mas- 
ters, as  the  great  Huygenius,  and  the  incomparable  Mr.  Newton, 
with  some  others  of  that  strain,  it  is  ambition  enough  to  be  em- 
ployed as  an  under-labourer  in  clearing  the  ground  a  little,  and 
removing  some  of  the  rubbish  that  lies  in  the  way  to  knowledge ; 
which  certainly  had  been  very  much  more  advanced  in  the 
world,  if  the  endeavours  of  ingenious  and  industrious  men  had 
not  been  much  cumbered  with  the  learned  but  frivolous  use  of 
uncouth,  affected,  or  unintelligible  terms,  introduced  into  the 
sciences,  and  there  made  an  art  of,  to  that  degree,  that  philoso- 
phy, which  is  nothing  but  the  true  knowledge  of  things,  was 
thought  unfit,  or  incapable  to  be  brought  into  well-bred  com- 
pany, and  polite  conversation.  Vague  and  insignificant  forms  of 
Speech,  and  abu!=e  of  language,  have  so  long  passed  for  mysteries 


j'MK  EPISTLE  TO  THE  READER.  &J 

of  science ;  and  hard  and  misapplied  words,  with  little  or  no 
meaning,  have,  by  prescription,  such  a  right  to  be  mistaken  for 
deep  learning,  and  height  of  speculation,  that  it  will  not  be  easy 
to  persuade  either  those  who  speak,  or  those  who  hear  them, 
that  they  are  but  the  covers  of  ignorance,  and  hinderance  of 
true  knowledge.  To  break  in  upon  the  sanctuary  of  vanity 
and  ignorance,  will  be,  I  suppose,  some  service  to  human  un- 
derstanding ;  though  so  few  are  apt  to  think  they  deceive  or 
are  deceived  in  the  use  of  words,  or  that  the  language  of  the 
sect  they  are  of  has  any  faults  in  it,  which  ought  to  be  examined 
or  corrected  ;  that  1  hope  I  shall  be  pardoned,  if  I  have  in  the 
third  book  dwelt  long  on  this  subject,  and  endeavoured  to  make 
it  so  plain,  that  neither  the  inveterateness  of  the  mischief,  nor 
the  prevalence  of  the  fashion,  shall  be  any  excuse  for  those  who 
will  not  take  care  about  the  meaning  of  their  own  words,  and 
will  not  suffer  the  significancy  of  their  expressions  to  be  in- 
quired into. 

I  have  been  told  that  a  short  epitome  of  this  treatise,  which 
was  printed  1 6ti8,  was  by  some  condemned  without  reading, 
because  innate  ideas  were  denied  in  it ;  they  too  hastily  conclu- 
ding, that  if  innate  ideas  were  not  supposed,  there  would  be  little 
left  either  of  the  notion  or  proof  of  spirits.  If  any  one  take  the 
like  offence  at  the  entrance  of  this  treatise,  1  shall  desire  him  to 
read  it  through ;  and  then  I  hope  he  will  be  convinced,  that  the 
taking  away  false  foundations,  is  not  to  the  prejudice,  but  advan- 
tage of  truth  ;  which  is  never  injured  or  endangered  so  much,  as 
when  mixed  with,  or  built  on,  falsehood.  In  the  second  edition. 
1  added  as  follpweth  : 

The  bookseller  will  not  forgive  me,  if  I  say  nothing  of  this 
second  edition,  which  he  has  promised,  by  the  correctness  of  it, 
shall  make  amends  for  the  many  faults  committed  in  the  former. 
He  desires  too,  that  it  should  be  known,  that  it  has  one  whole  new 
chapter  concerning  identity,  and  many  additions  and  amendments 
in  other  places.  These,  1  must  inform  my  reader,  are  not  all 
new  matter,  but  most  of  them,  either  farther  confirmations  of 
what  I  had  said,  or  explications,  to  prevent  others  being  mistaken 
in  the  sense  of  what  was  formerly  printed,  and  not  any  variation 
in  me  from  it;  I  must  only  except  the  alterations  I  have  made 
in  Book  II.  Chap.  2i. 

What  1  had  there  writ  concerning  liberty  and  the  will,  I  thought 
deserved  as  accurate  a  view  as  I  was  capable  of:  those  subjects 
having  in  all  ages  exercised  the  learned  part  of  the  world  with 
questions  and  difficulties  that  have  not  a  little  perplexed  morality 
and  divinity,  those  parts  of  knowledge  that  men  are  most  con- 
cerned to  be  clear  in.  Upon  a  closer  inspection  into  the  work- 
ing of  men's  minds,  and  a  stricter  examination  of  those  motives 
and  views  they  are  turned  by,  I  have  found  reason  somewhat  to 
alter  the  thoughts  I  formerly  had  concerning  that,  which  gives  the 
fast  determination  to  tb'>  will   in  all  voluntary  action*.     This  1 


oS  THE  EPISTLE  TO  THE  READER. 

cannot  forbear  to  acknowledge  to  the  world  with  as  much  free 
dom  and  readiness,  as  I  at  first  published  what  then  seemed  to 
me  to  be  right  5  thinking  myself  more  concerned  to  quit  and 
renounce  any  opinion  of  my  own.  than  oppose  that  of  another, 
when  truth  appears  against  it.  For  it  is  truth  alone  I  seek,  and 
that  will  always  be  welcome  to  me,  when  or  from  whence  soever 
it  comes. 

But  what  forwardness  soever  I  have  to  resign  any  opinion  I 
have,  or  to  recede  from  any  thing  I  have  writ  upon  the  first  evi- 
dence of  any  error  in  it ;  yet  this  I  must  own,  that  1  have  not 
had  the  good  luck  to  receive  any  light  from  those  exceptions  I 
have  met  with  in  print  against  any  part  of  my  book ;  nor  have, 
from  any  thing  that  has  been  urged  against  it,  found  reason  to 
alter  my  sense  in  any  of  the  points  that  have  been  questioned. 
Whether  the  subject  1  have  in  hand  requires  often  more  thought 
and  attention  than  cursory  readers,  at  least  such  as  are  prepos- 
sessed, are  willing  to  allow ;  or  whether  any  obscurity  in  my 
expression  casts  a  cloud  over  it,  and  these  notions  are  made 
difficult  to  others'  apprehensions  in  my  way  of  treating  them ;  so 
it  is,  that  my  meaning,  1  find,  is  often  mistaken,  and  I  have  not 
the  good  luck  to  be  every  where  rightly  understood.  There  are 
so  many  instances  of  this,  that  1  think  it  justice  to  my  reader  and 
myself  to  conclude,  that  either  my  book  is  plainly  enough  writ- 
ten to  be  rightly  understood  by  those  who  peruse  it  with  that 
attention  and  indifferency,  which  every  one  who  will  give  him- 
self the  pains  to  read,  ought  to  employ  in  reading  ;  or  else,  that 
I  have  writ  mine  so  obscurely,  that  it  is  in  vain  to  go  about  to 
mend  it.  Whichever  of  these  be  the  truth,  it  is  myself  only 
am  affected  thereby,  and  therefore  i  shall  be  far  from  troubling 
my  reader  with  what  I  think  might  be  said,  in  answer  to  those 
several  objections  I  have  met  with  to  passages  here  and  there  of 
my  book  •,  since  1  persuade  myself,  that  he  who  thinks  them  of 
moment  enough  to  be  concerned  whether  they  are  true  or  false, 
will  be  able  to  see,  that  what  is  said  is  either  not  well  founded,  or 
else  not  contrary  to  my  doctrine,  when  I  and  my  opposer  came 
both  to  be  well  understood. 

If  any,  careful  that  none  of  their  good  thoughts  should  be  lost, 
have  published  their  censures  of  my  Essay,  with  this  honour 
done  to  it,  that  they  will  not  suffer  it  to  be  an  Essay ;  I  leave  it 
to  the  public  to  value  the  obligation  they  have  to  their  critical 
pens,  and  shall  not  waste  my  reader's  time  in  so  idle  or  ill-natu- 
red an  employment  of  mine,  as  to  lessen  the  satisfaction  any  one 
has  in  himself,  or  gives  to  others  in  so  hasty  a  confutation  of 
what  I  have  written. 

The  booksellers  preparing  for  the  fourth  edition  of  my  Essay, 
gave  me  notice  of  it,  that  I  might,  if  I  had  leisure,  make  any 
additions  or  alterations  I  should  think  fit.  Whereupon  I  thought 
it  convenient  to  advertise  the  reader,  that  besides  several  cor- 
rections I  had  made  here  and  there,  there  was  one  altera*  i^r- 


1HE  EPISTLE  TO  THE  REABEIU 

which  it  was  necessary  to  mention,  because  it  ran  through  the 
■whole  book,  and  is  of  consequence  to  be  rightly  understood. 
What  I  thereupon  said  was  this  : 

Clear  and  distinct  ideas  are  terms,  which,  though  familiar  and 
frequent  in  men's  mouths,  I  have  reason  to  think  every  one,  who 
uses,  does  not  perfectly  understand.  And  possibly  it  is  but  here 
and  there  one,  who  gives  himself  the  trouble  to  consider  them 
so  far  as  to  know  what  he  himself  or  others  precisely  mean  by 
them :  I  have  therefore  in  most  places  chose  to  put  determinate  or 
determined,  instead  of  clear  and  distinct,  as  more  likely  to  direct 
men's  thoughts  to  my  meaning  in  this  matter.  By  those  denomi- 
nations, 1  mean  some  object  in  the  mind,  and  consequently  de- 
termined, i.  e.  such  as  it  is  there  seen  and  perceived  to  be.  This, 
I  think,  may  fitly  be  called  a  determinate  or  determined  idea, 
when  such  as  it  ia  at  any  time  objectively  in  the  mind,  and  so 
determined  there,  it  is  annexed,  and  without  variation  determined 
to  a  name  or  articulate  sound,  which  is  to  be  steadily  the  iign  of 
that  very  same  object  of  the  mind  or  determinate  idea. 

To  explain  this  a  little  more  particularly.  By  determinate, 
when  applied  to  a  simple  idea,  I  mean  that  simple  appearance 
which  the  mind  has  in  its  view,  or  perceives  in  itself,  when  that 
idea  is  said  to  be  in  it :  by  determinate,  when  applied  to  a  com- 
plex idea,  1  mean  such  an  one  as  consists  of  a  determinate  num- 
ber of  certain  simple  or  less  complex  ideas,  joined  in  such  a 
proportion  and  situation,  as  the  mind  has  before  its  view,  and 
sees  in  itself,  when  that  idea  is  present  in  it,  or  should  be  present 
in  it,  when  a  man  gives  a  name  to  it :  I  say  should  be  ;  because 
it  is  not  every  one,  not  perhaps  any  one,  who  is  so  careful  of  his 
language,  as  to  use  no  word,  till  he  views  in  his  mind  the  precise 
determined  idea,  which  he  resolves  to  make  it  the  sign  of.  The 
wantof  this  is  the  cause  of  no  small  obscurity  and  confusion  in 
men's  thoughts  and  discourses. 

I  know  there  are  not  words  enough  in  any  language  to  answer 
all  the  variety  of  ideas  that  enter  into  men's  discourses  and 
reasonings.  But  this  hinders  not,  but  that  when  any  one  uses 
any  term,  he  may  have  in  his  mind  a  determined  idea,  which  he 
makes  it  the  sign  of,  and  to  which  he  should  keep  it  steadily 
annexed,  during  that  present  discourse.  Where  he  does  not,  or 
cannot  do  this,  he  in  vain  pretends  to  clear  or  distinct  ideas :  it 
is  plain  his  are  not  so ;  and  therefore  there  can  be  expected 
nothing  but  obscurity  and  confusion,  where  such  terms  are  made 
use  of,  which  have  not  such  a  precise  determination. 

Upon  this  ground  I  have  thought  determined  ideas  a  way  of 
speaking  less  liable  to  mistakes,  than  clear  and  distinct ;  and 
where  men  have  got  such  determined  ideas  of  all  that  they 
reason,  inquire,  or  argue  about,  they  will  find  a  great  part  of  their 
doubts  and  disputes  at  an  end.  The  greatest  part  of  the  ques- 
tions and  controversies  that  perplex  mankind,  depending  on  the 
doubtful  and  uncertain  use  of  words,  or  (which  is  the  same'} 


^{J  iHE  EIMSTLE  TO  THE  READER. 

indetermined  ideas,  which  they  are  made  to  stand  for  ;  I  have 
made  choice  of  these  terms  to  signify,  1 .  Some  immediate  object 
of  the  mind,  which  it  perceives  and  has  before  it,  distinct  from  the 
sound  it  uses  as  a  sign  of  it.  2.  That  this  idea,  thus  determined, 
i.  e.  which  the  mind  has  in  itself,  and  knows  and  sees  there,  be 
determined  without  any  change  to  that  name,  and  that  name- 
determined  to  that  precise  idea.  If  men  had  such  determined 
ideas  in  their  inquiries  and  discourses,  they  would  both  discern 
how  far  their  own  inquiries  and  discourses  went,  and  avoid  the 
greatest  part  of  the  disputes  and  wranglings  they  have  with  others. 

Besides  this,  the  bookseller  will  think  it  necessary  I  should 
advertise  the  reader,  that  there  is  an  addition  of  two  chapters 
wholly  new  ;  the  one  of  the  association  of  ideas,  the  other  oi 
enthusiasm.  These,  with  some  other  larger  additions  never 
before  printed,  he  has  engaged  to  print  by  themselves  after  the 
same  manner,  and  for  the  same  purpose  as  was  done  when  this 
Essay  had  the  second  impression. 

In  the  sixth  edition,  there  is  very  little  added  or  altered  ;  the 
greatest  part  of  what  is  new  is  contained  in  the  21st  chapter  of 
the  second  book,  which  any  one,  if  he  thinks  it  worth  while,  may, 
with  a  very  little  labour,  transcribe  into  the  margin  of  the  former 
edition. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  I 


BOOK  1. 


OF  INNATE  NOTIONS 


CHAPTER  I. 

77te  Introduclio?i. 
Sect. 

1.  An  inquiry  into  the  understanding, 
pleasant  and  useful. 

2.  Design. 

3.  Method. 

4.  Useful  to  know  the  extent  of  our 
comprehension. 

5.  Our  capacity  proportioned  to  our 
state  and  concerns, to  discover  things 
useful  to  us. 

6.  Knowing  the  extent  of  our  capaci- 
ties will  hinder  us  from  useless  cu- 
riosity, skepticism,  and  idleness. 

7.  Occasion  of  this  essay. 
3.  What  idea  stands  for. 

CHAPTER  II. 

•TV  o  innate  speculative  principles. 
Sect. 

1.  The  way  shown  how  we  come  by 
any  knowledge,  sufficient  to  prove  it 
not  innate. 

2.  General  assent,  the  great  argument. 

3.  Universal  consent  proves  nothing  in- 
nate. 

4.  What  is,  is  ;  and  it  is  impossible  for 
the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be ; 
not  universally  assented  to. 

5.  Not  on  the  mind  naturally  imprinted, 
because  not  known  to  children, 
idiots,  ice. 

G,  7.  That  men  know  them  when  they 
come  to  the  use  of  reason,  answered. 

8.  If   reason    discovered    them,    that 

tvould  not  prove  them  innate. 
9-11.  It  is  false  that  reason  discovers 
them. 

12.  The  coming  to  the  use  of  reason,  not 
the  time  we  come  to  know  these 
maxims. 

13.  By  this  they  are  not  distinguished 
from  other  knowable  truths. 

14.  If  coming  to  the  use  of  reason  were 

the  time  of  their  discovery  >  it  would 
not  prove  them  innate. 

15.  16.   The  steps  by  which  the  mind  at- 

tains several  truths. 
17.  Assenting  as  soon  as  proposed  and 

understood,  proves  them  not  innate. 
1 0.  If  such  an  assent  be  a  mark  of  innate, 

then  that  one  and  two  are  equal  to 
Vol.  I. 


three  ;  that  sweetness  is  not  bitter- 
ness ;  and  a  thousand  the  like,  mast 
be  innate. 

19.  Such lessgeneral  propositionsknown 
before  these  universal  maxims. 

20.  One  and  one  equal  to  two,  6cc.  not 
general  nor  useful,  answered. 

21.  These  maxims  not  being  known 
sometimes  till  proposed,  proves 
them  not  innate. 

22.  Implicitly  known  before  proposing, 
signifies  that  the  mind  is  capable  ol" 
understanding  them,  or  else  signifies 
nothing. 

23.  The  argument  of  assenting  on  first 
hearing  is  upon  a  false  supposition 
of  no  precedent  teaching. 

24.  Not  innate,  because  not  universally 
assented  to. 

25.  These  maxims  not  the  first  known. 

26.  And  so  not  innate. 

27.  Not  innate,  because  they  appear 
least,  where  what  is  innate  shows 
itself  clearest. 

28.  Recapitulation. 

CHAPTER  III. 

J\"o  innate  practical  principles. 
Sect. 

1.  No  moral  principles  so  clear  and  so 
generally  received  as  the  fore-men- 
tioned speculative  maxims. 

2.  Faith  and  j  ustice  not  owned  as  prin- 
ciples by  all  men. 

3.  Obj.  Though  men  deny  them  in 
their  practice,  yet  they  admit  them 
in  their  thoughts,  answered. 

4.  Moral  rules  need  a  proof,  ergo,  not 
innate. 

~>.    Instance  in  keeping  compacts. 

6.  Virtue  generally  approved,  not  be- 
cause innate,  but  because  profitable. 

7.  Men's  actions  convince  us,  that  the 
rule  of  virtue  is  not  their  internal 
principle. 

8.  Conscience  no  proof  of  any  innate 
moral  rule. 

9.  Instances  of  enormities  practised 
without  remorse. 

10.  Men  have  contrary  practical  princi- 
ples. 

11 — 13.  "Whole  nations  reject  several 
moral  rules. 

14.   Those  who  maintain  innate  pracft'i 


At 


CONTENTS. 


cal  principles,  tell  us  not  what  they 
are. 
13-19.  Lord  Herbert's   innate  princi- 
ples examined. 

20.  Obj.  Innate  principles  may  be  cor- 
rupted, answered. 

21.  Contrary  principles  in  the  world. 
22-26.  How  men  commonly  come  by 

their  principles. 
27.    Principles  must  be  examined. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Other  considerations  about  innate  princi- 
ples, both  speculative  and  practical. 
Sect. 
1.    Principles  not  innate,  unless  their 
ideas  be  innate. 
2, 3.  Ideas,  especially  those  belonging  to 
principles,  not  born  with  children. 
4,5.  Identity,  an  idea  not  innate. 

6.  Whole  and  part,  not  innate  ideas. 

7.  Idea  of  worship  not  innate. 
'   m.  idea  nf  Gred,  not  innate. 


12.  Suitable  to  God"s  goodness,  that  all 
men  should  have  an  idea  of  him. 
therefore  naturally  imprinted  by 
him,  answered. 

13-16.  Ideas  of  God  various  in  differ- 
ent men. 

17.    If  the  idea  of  God  be  not  innate,  no 
other  can  be  supposed  innate. 
Idea  of  substance  not  innate. 
No    propositions    can    be    innate, 
since  no  ideas  are  innate. 
No  ideas  are  remembered,  till  after 
they  have  been  introduced. 
Principles  not  innate,  because  of 
little  use,  or  little  certainty. 
Difference  of  men's  discoveries  de- 
pends upon  the  different  applica- 
tions of  their  faculties. 
Men  must   think  and   know  for 
themselves. 

Whence  the  opinion  of  innate  prir 
ciples. 
Conclusion. 


18. 
19. 


'20 


21 


22 


23 


24 


BOOK  II 


OF  IDEAS. 


Sec 
1. 


4. 


8. 

9. 

10. 

11. 

12. 


f     CHAPTER  I. 

Of  Ideas  in  genera/. 
r. 

Idea  is  the  object  of  thinking. 
All  ideas  come  from  sensation  or 
reflection. 

The  objects  of  sensation  one  source 
of  ideas. 

The  operations  of  our  minds,  the 
other  source  of  them. 
All  our  ideas  are  of  the  one  or  the 
other  of  these. 
Observable  in  children. 
Men  are  differently  furnished  with 
these,  according  to  the  different  ob- 
jects they  converse  with. 
Ideas  of  reflection  later,  because 
they  need  attention. 
The  soul  begins  to  have  ideas  when 
it  begins  to  perceive. 
The  soul  thinks  not  always;  for 
this  wants  proofs. 
It  is  not  always  conscious  of  it. 
If  a  sleeping  man  thinks  without 
knowing  it,the  sleeping  and  waking 
man  are  two  persons. 
Impossible  to  convince  those  that 
sleep  without  dreaming,  that  they 

link. 

\t  men  dream  without  remem- 
it,  in  vain  urged. 


15.  Upon  this  hypothesis,  the  thought* 
of  a  sleeping  man  ought  to  be  most 
rational. 

16.  On  this  hypothesis  the  soul  must 
have  ideas  not  derived  from  sensa- 
tion or  reflection,  of  which  there  is 
no  appearance. 

17.  If  I  think  when  I  know  it  not,  no- 
body else  can  know  it. 

IS.  How  knows  any  one  that  the  soul 
always  thinks  ?  For  if  it  be  not  a 
self-evident  proposition,  it  neecV 
proof. 

19,  That  a  man  should  be  busy  in 
thinking,  and  yet  not  retain  it  the 
next  moment,  very  improbable. 

20-23.  No  ideas  but  from  sensation  or 
reflection,  evident,  if  we  observe 
children. 

21.    The  original  of  all  our  knowledge. 

23.  In  the  reception  of  simple  ideas  the 
understanding  is  most  of  all  pas- 
sive. 

CHAPTER  11 

Of  simple  ideas. 

Sect. 

1.    Uncompounded  appearances. 
2,3.  The  mind  can  neither  make  so* 
de'trov  them. 


CONTENTS. 


i" » 


CHAPTER  III. 

Of  ideas  of  one  sense. 
Sect. 
1.    As  colours,  of  seeing;   sounds,  of 

hearing'. 
Q.    Few  simple  ideas  have  names. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Of  Solidifi/. 
Sect. 

1 .  We  receive  this  idea  from  touch. 

2.  Solidity  fills  space. 

3.  Distinct  from  space. 

4.  From  hardness. 

5.  On  solidity  depend  impulse,  resis- 
tance, and  protrusion. 

S.    What  it  is. 

CHAPTER  V. 

Of  simple  ideas  by  more  than  one  sense. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Of  simple  ideas  of  reflection. 

>ECT. 

1 .  Simple  ideas  are  the  operations  of 
the  mind  about  its  other  ideas. 

2.  The  idea  of  perception,  and  idea  of 
willing,  we  have  from  reflection. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

(>/"  simple  ideas,  both  of  sensation  and 

reflection. 
Sect. 

1-6.  Pleasure  and  pain. 
7.    Existence  and  unit  v. 

3.  Power. 

9.    Succession. 

10.  Simple  ideas,  the  materials  of  all 
our  knowledge. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Other  considerations  concerning  simple 

ideas. 
Sect. 

1-6.  Positive     ideas     from     privative 
causes. 
7,  3.    Ideas  in  the  mind,  qualities  in 

bodies. 
9,  10.  Primary  and   secondary  quali- 
ties. 

11,  12.  How  primary  qualities  produce 

f !  ^  ir  ideas. 
13,  14.   How  secondary. 
15-23.  Ideas  of  primary  qualities,  are 

resemblances  ;  of  secondary,  not. 
24,  25.  Reasou  of  our  mistake  in  this. 
26.    Secondary  qualities  two-fold;  first, 

immediately  perceivable;  secondly, 

.•nnliatelypercei-    '  ' 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Of  Perception, 
Sect. 
1.    It  is  the  first  simple  idea  of  reflec- 
tion. 
2-4.  Perception     is     only    when    the 
mind  receives  the  impression. 
5,  6.  Children,  though  they  have  ideas 

in  the  womb,  have  none  innate. 
7.  Which  ideas  first,  is  not  evident. 
G-10.  Ideas  of  sensation  often  changed 

by  the  judgment. 
11-14.  Perception  puts  the  difference 
between     animals     and     inferior 
beings. 
15.    Perception  the  inlet  of  knowledge, 

CHAPTER  X. 


fcEC 
1. 


4,5. 
6. 

!*• 

8,9. 
10. 


Of  Retention. 
r. 

Contemplation. 
Memory. 

Attention,  repetition,  pleasure,  and 
pain,  fix  ideas. 
Ideas  fade  in  the  memory. 
Constantly    repeated     ideas    can 
scarce  be  lost. 

In  remembering,  the  mind  is  often 
active. 

Two  defeat.-:  Li  the  memory,  obli- 
vion and  slowness. 
Brutes  have  memory, 

CHAPTER  XL 


Of  Discerning, fyc. 

1.  No  knowledge  without  it. 

2.  The  difference  of  wit  and  judgment. 

3.  Clearness  alone  hinders  confusion. 
-I.  Comparing. 

.5.    Brutes  compare  but  imperfectly. 

C.    Compounding. 

7.    Brutes  compound  but  little. 

3.    Naming 

9.    Abstraction.  * 
10,  11.  Brutes  abstract  not. 
12,  13.  Idiots  and  madmen. 

14.  Method. 

15.  These  are  the  beginnings  of  Hu- 
man knowledge. 

16.  Appeal  to  experience. 

17.  Dark  room. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Of  complex  idea'i. 
Sect. 

1.  Made  by  lire  mind  out  of  simple 
ones. 

2.  Made  voluntarily. 

J.    Are    either   modes,  substa.li'  ■ 
relations. 


44 


CONTENTS. 


4.  Modes. 

5.  Simple  and  mixed  modes. 

6.  Substances  single  or  collective. 

7.  Relation. 

8.  The  abstrusest  ideas  from  the  two 
sources. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Of  space  and  its  simple  modes. 

Sect. 

1.  Simple  modes. 

2.  Idea  of  space. 

3.  Space  and  extension, 

4.  Immensity. 
5,6.  Figure. 

7-10.  Place. 
11-14.  Extension    and    body  not  the 
same. 

15.  The  definition  of  extension,  or  of 
space,  does  not  explain  it. 

16.  Division  of  beings  into  bodies  and 
spirits  proves  not  body  and  space 
the  same. 

17.  18.  Substance,  which  we  know  not, 

no  proof    against    space  without 

body. 
19,  20.  Substance  and  accidents  of  little 

use  in  philosophy. 
21;   A    vacuum    beyond    the    utmost 

bounds  of  body. 

22.  The  power  of  annihilation  proves 
a  vacuum. 

23.  Motion  proves  a  vacuum. 

24.  The  ideas  of  space  and  body  dis- 
tinct. 

25.  26.  Extension,  being    inseparable 

from  body,  proves  it  not  the  same. 
2"?.  Ideas  of  space  and  solidity  distinct. 
28.  Men  differ  little  in  clear  simple 

ideas. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Of  Duration  and  its  simple  modes. 

Sect. 

1.    Duration  is  fleeting  extension. 
2-4.  Its    idea    from  reflection  on  the 
train  of  our  ideas. 
5.   The  idea  of  duration  applicable  to 
things  while  we  sleep. 
6-8.  The    idea  of  succession  not  from 
motion. 
9 — 11.  The  train  of  ideas  has  a  certain 
degree  of  quickness. 
12.  This  train,  the  measure  of  other 

successions. 
13 — 15.  The  mind  cannot  fix  long  on 
one  invariable  idea. 

16.  Ideas,  however  made,  include  no 
sense  of  motion. 

17.  Time  is  duration  set  out  by  mea- 
sures. 

If!.  A  good  measure  of  time  must  di- 


vide its  whole  duration  into  equal 
periods. 

19.  The  revolutions  of  the  sun  and 
moon  the  properest  measures  of 
time. 

20.  But  not  by  their  motion,  but  pe- 
riodical appearances. 

21.  No  two  parts  of  duration  can  be 
certainly  known  to  be  equal. 

22.  Time  not  the  measure  of  motion. 

23.  Minutes,  hours,  and  years  not  ne- 
cessary measures  of  duration. 

24-26.  Our  measure   of  time   applica- 
ble to  duration  before  time. 
27-30.  Eternity. 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Of  Duration  and  Expansion  co7isidered 

together. 
Sect. 

1 .  Both  capable  of  greater  and  less- 

2.  Expansion  not  bounded  by  matte  i . 

3.  Nor  duration  by  motion. 

4.  Why  men  more  easily  admit  infi- 
nite duration  than  infinite  expan- 
sion. 

5.  Time  to  duration  is  as  place  to  ex- 
pansion. 

6.  Time  and  place  are  taken  for  so 
much  of  either  as  are  set  out  by 
the  existence  and  motion  of  bodies. 

7.  Sometimes  for  so  much  of  either  as 
we  design  by  measure  taken  from 
the  bulk  or  motion  of  bodies. 

8.  They  belong  to  all  beings. 

9.  All  the  parts  of  extension  are  ex- 
tension ;  and  all  the  parts  of  dura- 
tion are  duration. 

10.  Their  parts  inseparable. 

11.  Duration  is  as  a  line,  expansion  as 
a  solid. 

52.  Duration  has  never  two  parts  to- 
gether, expansion  all  together, 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Of  Number. 
r. 

Number,  the   simplest   and    most 
universal  idea. 
Its  modes  made  by  addition. 
Each  mode  distinct. 
Therefore  demonstrations  in  num- 
bers the  most  precise. 
Names  necessary  to  numbers. 
Why  children  number  not  earlier. 
8.   Number  measures  all  measurable?, 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Of  Infinity. 
Sect. 
1.   Infinity,  in   its  original  intentions 
attributed  to  space,  duration-  and 
number. 


Sec 
1. 


>,& 


CONTENTS, 


4o 


2.  The  idea  ol'  finite  easily  got. 

3.  How  we  come  by  the  idea  of  infi- 
nity. 

4.  Our  idea  of  space  boundless. 

5.  And  so  of  duration. 

6.  Why  other  ideas  are  not  capable  of 
infinity. 

7.  Difference  between  infinity  of  space 
and  space  infinite. 

8.  We  have  no  idea  of  infinite  space. 

9.  Number  affords  us  the  clearest  idea 
of  infinity. 

10, 11.  Our  different  conception  of  the 
infinity  of  number,  duration,  and 
expansion. 

12.  Infinite  divisibility. 

13,  14.  No  positive  idea  of  infinity. 

15,  16.  What  is  positive,  what  negative, 

in  our  idea  of  infinite. 

16,  17.  We  have  no  positive  idea  of 

infinite  duration. 
18.  No  positive  idea  of  infinite  space. 

20.  Some  think  they  have  a  positive 
idea  of  eternity,  and  not  of  infinite 
space. 

21.  Supposed  positive  idea  of  infinity, 
cause  of  mistakes. 

22.  All  these  ideas  from  sensation  and 
reflection. 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Of  other  simple  modes. 
Sect. 
1,2.  Modes  of  motion. 

3.  Modes  of  sounds. 

4.  Modes  of  colours. 

5.  Modes  of  tastes  and  smells. 

6.  Some  simple  modes  have  no  names. 

7.  Why  some  modes  have,  and  others 
have  not  names. 

CHAPTER  Xl\. 

Of  the  modes  of  thinking. 
Sect. 

1,2.  Sensation,  remembrance,  contem- 
plation, &c. 

3.  The  various  attention  of  the  mind 
in  thinking. 

4.  Hence  it  is  probable  that  thinking 
is  the  action,  not  essence  of  the 
-oul. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Of  modes  of  pleasure  and  pain. 
Sect. 

1.  Pleasure  and  pain  simple  ideas. 

2.  Good  and  evil,  what. 

J.   Our  passions  moyed  by  good  and 
evil. 

4.  Love. 

5.  Hatred. 
f>,  Desire. 


9. 
10. 
11. 


7.  Joy. 

8.  SorroWi 

9.  Hope. 

10.  Fear. 

11.  Despair. 

12.  Anger. 

13.  Envy. 

14.  What  passions  all  men  have. 

15.  16.  Pleasure  and  pain,  what. 

17.  Shame. 

18.  These  instances  do  show  how  our 
ideas  of  the  passions  are  got  from 
sensation  and  reflection. 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Of  Poiver. 

^ECT. 

1.  This  idea  how  got. 

2.  Power  active  and  passive. 

3.  Power  includes  relation. 

4.  The  clearest  idea  of  active  power 
had  from  spirit. 

5.  Will  and  understanding  two  pow- 
ers. 

6.  Faculties. 

7.  Whence  the  ideas  of  liberty  and. 
necessity. 

8.  Liberty,  what. 
Supposes  understanding  and  will. 
Belongs  not  to  volition. 
Voluntary  opposed  to  involuntary, 
not  to  necessary. 

12.  Liberty,  what. 

13.  Necessity,  what. 

14-20.  Liberty  belongs  not  to  the  will . 

21.   But  to  the  agent  or  man. 

22-24.  In  respect  of  willing,  a  man  is 
not  free. 

25-27.  The  will  determined  by  some- 
thing without  it. 

28.  Volition,  what. 

29.  What  determines  the  will. 

30.  Will  and  desire  must  not  be  cou  ■ 
founded. 

31.  Uneasiness  determines  the  will. 

32.  Desire  is  uneasiness. 

33.  The  uneasiness  of  desire  determine- 
the  will. 

This  the  spring  of  action. 
The  greatest  positive  good  deter- 
mines not  the  will,  but  uneasiness. 
Because  the  removal  of  uneasiness 
is  the  first  step  to  happiness. 
Because  uneasiness  alone  is  present . 

38.  Because  all,  who  allow  the  joys  ol 
heaven  possible,  pursue  them  not. 
But  a  great  uneasiness  is  never 
neglected. 

39.  Desire  accompanies  all  uneasiness. 

40.  The  most  pressing  uneasiness  na- 
turally determines  the  will. 

41.  All  desire  happiness. 

42.  Happiness,  whaL 

13.   What  good  is  desire,d.  what  not. 


14. 


16. 


37. 


46 


CONTENTS. 


44.  Why  the  greatest  good  is  not  al- 
ways desired. 

45.  Why,  not  being  desired,  it  moves 
not  the  -\vilL 

46.  Due  consideration  raises  desire. 

47.  The  power  to  suspend  the  prosecu- 
tion of  any  desire,  makes  way  for 
consideration. 

43.  To  be  determined  by  our  own 
judgment  is  no  restraint  to  liberty. 

49.  The  freest  agents  are  so  deter  mined. 

50.  A  constant  determination  to  a  pur- 
suit of  happiness  no  abridgment  of 
liberty. 

5 1 .  The  necessity  of  pursuing  true  hap- 
piness the  foundation  of  all  liberty. 

52.  The  reason  of  it. 

53.  Government  of  our  passions  the 
right  improvement  of  liberty. 

54, 55.  How  men  come  to  pursue  dif- 
ferent courses. 

56.  How  men  come  to  choose  ill. 

57.  First,  from  bodily  pains.  Second- 
ly, from  wrong  desires  arising  from 
wrong  judgment. 

53,59.  Our  judgment  of  present  good 
or  evil  always  right. 

60.  From  a  wrong  judgment  of  what 
makes  a  necessary  part  of  their 
happiness. 

61,  62.  A  more  particular  account  of 

wrong  judgments. 

63.  In  comparing  present  and  future. 

64,  65.  Causes  of  this. 

66.  In  considering  consequences  of  ac- 
tions. 

67.  Causes  of  this. 

68.  Wrong  judgment  of  what  is  neces- 
sary to  our  happiness. 

69.  We  can  change  the  agreeablenes3 
or  disagreeableness  in  things. 

70.  Preference  of  vice  to  virtue,  a 
manifest  wrong  judgment. 

Tl-TS.  Recapitulation. 

CHAPTER  XXII. 


-re 
1. 


9. 

10. 


Of  mixed  modes. 

p. 

Mixed  modes,  what. 
Made  by  the  mind. 
Sometimes  got  by  the  explication 
of  their  names. 

The  name  ties  the  parts  of  the  mix- 
ed modes  into  one  idea. 
The  cause  of  making  mixed  modes. 
Why  words  in  one  language  have 
none  answering  in  another. 
And  languages  change. 
Mixed  modes,  where  they  exist. 
How  we  get  the  ideas  of  mixed 
modes. 

Motion,  thinking,  and  powe  ■  have 
been  mn«t.  modified*. 


11.  Several  words  seeming  to  sigm'iy 
action,  signify  but  the  effect 

12.  Mixed  modes  made  also  of  other 
ideas. 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Of  the  complex  ideas  of  substances. 
Sect. 

1.  Ideas  of  substances,  how  made. 

2.  Our  idea  of  substance  in  general. 
3,6.  Of  the  sorts  of  substances. 

4.  No  clear  idea  of  substance  in  gene- 
ral. 

5.  As  clear  an  idea  of  spirit  as  body 

7.  Powers  a  great  part  of  our  com- 
plex idea  of  substances. 

8.  And  why. 

9.  Three  sorts  of  ideas  make  our  com- 
plex ones  of  substances. 

10.  Powers  make  a  great  part  of  our 
complex  ideas  of  substances. 

11.  The  now  secondary  qualities  of 
bodies  would  disappear,  if  we  could 
discover  the  primary  ones  of  their 
minute  parts. 

12.  Our  faculties  of  discovery  suited 
to  our  state. 

13.  Conjecture  about  spirits. 

14.  Complex  ideas  of  substance. 

15.  Idea  of  spiritual  substances  as  clear 
as  of  bodily  substances. 

16.  No  idea  of  abstract  substance. 

17.  The  cohesion  of  solid  parts,  and 
impulse,  the  primary  ideas  of  body. 

18.  Thinking  and  motivity  the  prima- 
ry ideas  of  spirit. 

19-21.    Spirits  capable  of  motion. 

22.    Idea  of  soul  and  body  compared. 

23-27.  Cohesion  of  solid  parts  in  bodv, 
as  hard  to  be  conceived  as  think- 
ing in  a  soul. 

28,  29.  Communication  of  motion  by- 
impulse,  or  by  thought,  equally  in- 
telligible. 

30.  Ideas  of  body  and  spirit  compared 

31.  The  notion  of  spirit  involves  n<> 
more  difficulty  in  it  than  that  of 
body. 

32.  We   know   nothing   beyond    on 
simple  ideas. 

33-35.  Idea  of  God. 

36.  No  ideas  in  our  complex  one  of 
spirits,  but  those  got  from  sensation 
or  reflection. 

37.  Recapitulation. 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Of  collective  ideas  of  substances. 
Sect. 

1.  One  idea. 

2.  Made  by  the  power  of  composing 
in  the  mind. 

3.  All  artificial  things  are  collectivf 
;  i,,.,,- 


CONTENTS. 


r, 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Of  Relation. 
Sect. 

1.  Relation,  what. 

2.  Relations,     without     correlative 
terms,  not  easily  perceived. 

3.  Some    seemingly  absolute    terms 
contain  relations. 

4.  Relation  different  from  the  things 
related. 

5.  Change  of  relation  may  be  without 
any  change  in  the  subject. 

6.  Relation  only  betwixt  two  things. 

7.  All  things  capable  of  relation. 

8.  The  ideas  of  relation  clearer  often, 
than  of  the  subjects  related. 

9.  Relations  all  terminate  in  simple 
ideas. 

10.  Terms  leading  the  mind  beyond 
the  subjects  denominated,  are  rela- 
tive. 

11.  Conclusion. 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Of  cause  and  effect,  and  other  relations. 
Sect. 

1 .    W hence  their  ideas  got. 

%    Creation,  generation,  making   al- 
teration. 
.1,4.  Relations  of  time. 

5.  Relations  of  place  and  extension. 

6.  Absolute  terms  often  stand  for  re- 
lations. 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Of  identity  and  diversity. 
Sect. 

1.  Wherein  identity  consists. 

2.  Identity  of  substances. 
Identity  of  modes. 

3.  Principium  individuationis. 

4.  Identity  of  vegetables, 

5.  Identity  of  animals. 

6.  Identity  of  man. 

7.  Identity  suited  to  the  idea. 

8.  Same  man. 

9.  Personal  identity. 

10.  Consciousness  makes  personal  iden- 
tity. 

1 1  Personal  identity  in  change  of  sub- 
stances. 

12-15.  Whether  in  the  change  of 
thinking  substances. 

16.  Con'soiop&ess  makes  the  same 
person. 

17.  Self  depends  on  consciousness. 
18-20.  Objects  of  reward  and  punish- 
ment 

21,  22.  Difference  between  identity  of 

man  and  person. 
33-25.  Consciousness      alnno     makes 

self. 


26,  27.  Person  a  forensic  term. 

28.  The  difficulty  from  ill  use  of  name?. 

29.  Continued  existence  makes  iden- 
tity. 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Of  other  relation?. 
Sect. 

1.  Proportional. 

2.  Natural. 

3.  Instituted. 

4.  Moral. 

5.  Moral  good  and  evil. 

6.  Moral  rules. 

7.  Laws. 

8.  Divine  law,  the  measure  of  sin  and 
duty. 

9.  Civil  law,  the  measure  of  crimes 
and  innocence. 

10,  11.  Philosophical  law,  the  measure 
of  virtue  and  vice. 

12.  Its  enforcements,  commendation, 
and  discredit. 

13.  These  three  laws  the  rules  of  mo- 
ral good  and  evil. 

14, 15.  Moralityis  the  relation  of  action- 
to  these  rules. 

16.  The  denominations  of  actions  often 
mislead  us. 

17.  Relations  innumerable. 

18.  All  relations  terminate  in  simple 
ideas. 

19.  We  have  ordinardy  as  clear  (or 
clearer)  notions  of  the  relation,  as 
of  its  foundation. 

20.  The  notion  of  the  relation  is  the 
same,  whether  the  rule,  any  action 
is  compared  to,  be  true  or  false. 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Of  clear  arid  distinct,  obscure  and  con- 
fused ideas. 
Sect. 

1.  Ideas,some  clear  and  distinct,  others 
obscure  and  confused. 

2.  Clear  and  obscure,  explained  bv 
sight. 

3.  Causes  of  obscurity. 

4.  Distinct  and  confused,  what. 

5.  Objection. 

6.  Confusion  of  ideas  is  in  reference 
to  their  names. 

7.  Defaults  which  make  confusion. 
First,  complex  ideas  nmde  up  of 
too  few  simple  ones. 

8.  Secondly,  or  its  simple  ones  jum- 
bled disorderly  together. 

9.  Thirdly,  or  are  mutable  or  unde- 
termined. 

10.  Confusion,  without  reference  (.. 
names,  hardly  conceivable. 

11.  Confusion  concerns  alwavx  two 
ideas. 


48 


CONTENTS, 


12.   Causes  of  confusion. 
]  3.    Complex  ideas  may  be  distinct  in 
one  part,  and  confused  in  another. 

14.  This,  if  not  heeded,  causes  confu- 
sion in  our  arguings. 

15.  Instance  in  eternity. 

16.   Divisibility  of  matter. 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

Of  real  and  fantastical  ideas. 
Sect. 

1 .  Real  ideas  are  conformable  to  their 
archetypes. 

2.  Simple  ideas  all  real. 

3.  Complex  ideas  are  voluntary  com- 
binations. 

4.  Mixed  modes,  made  of  consistent 
ideas,  are  real. 

5.  Ideas  of  substances  are  real,  when 
they  agree  with  the  existence  of 
things. 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Of  adequate  and  inadequate  ideas. 
Bkct. 

1 .  Adequate  ideas  are  such  as  perfect- 
ly represent  their  archetypes. 

2.  Simple  ideas  all  adequate. 

3.  Modes  are  all  adequate. 

4,5.  Modes,  in  reference  to  settled 
names,  may  be  inadequate. 

6,7.  Ideas  of  substances,  as  referred  to 
real  essences,  not  adequate. 

3-11.  Ideas  of  substances,  as  collec- 
tions of  their  qualities,  are  all  in- 
adequate. 

12.  Simple  ideas  ttnwrdL,  and  adequate. 

13.  Ideas  of  substances  are  iKru?ra.,  and 
inadequate. 

14.  Ideas  of  modes  and  relations  are 
archetypes,  and  cannot  but  be  ade- 
quate. 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Of  true  and  false  ideas. 
Sect. 

1.  Truth  and  falsehood  properly  be- 
longs to  propositions. 

2.  Metaphysical  truth  contains  a  tacit 
proposition. 

3.  No  idea,  as  an  appearance  in  the 
mind,  true  or  false. 

4.  Ideas  referred  to  any  thing,  may 
be  true  or  false. 

Q.  Other  men's  ideas,  real  existence, 
and   supposed    real  essence?,  are 


what  men  usually  refer  their  idea? 
to. 
6-3.  The  cause  of  such  references. 
9.    Simple  ideas  may  be  false  in  refer- 
ence to  others  of  the  same  name, 
but  are  least  liable  to  be  so. 

10.  Ideas  of  mixed  modes  most  liable 
to  be  false  in  this  sense. 

11.  Or  at  least  to  be  thought  false. 

12.  And  why. 

13.  As  referred  to  real  existences,  none 
of  our  ideas  can  be  false,  but  those 
of  substances. 

14.  16.  First,  simple  ideas  in  this  sense 

not  false,  and  why. 

15.  Though  one  man's  idea  of  blue 
should  be  different  from  another's . 

17.  Secondly,  modes  not  false. 

18.  Thirdly,  ideas  of  substances,  when 
false. 

19.  Truth  or  falsehood  always  sup- 
poses affirmation  or  negation. 

20.  Ideas  in  themselves  neither  true 
nor  false. 

21.  But  are  false,  first,  when  judged 
agreeable  to  another  man's  idea, 
without  being  so. 

22.  Secondly,  when  judged  to  agree  to 
real  existence,  when  they  do  not. 

23.  Thirdly,  when  judged  adequate 
without  being  so. 

24.  Fourthly,  when  judged  to  repre- 
sent the  real  essence. 

25.  Ideas,  when  false. 

26.  More  properly  to  be  called  right 
or  wrong. 

27.  Conclusion. 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Of  the  association  of  ideas. 

Sect.  . 

1.  Something  unreasonable  in  most 
men. 

2.  Not  wholly  from  self-love. 

3.  Nor  from  education. 

4.  A  degree  of  madness. 

5.  From  a  wrong  connexion  of  ideas, 

6.  This  connexion  how  made. 

7, 8.  Some  antipathies  an  effect  of  it. 
9.    A  great  cause  of  errors. 
10-12.  Instances. 
13.    Why  time  cures  some  disorders  in 

the  mind,  which  reason  cannot. 
14-16.  Farther  instances  of  the  effects 

of  the  association  of  ideas. 

17.  Its  influence  on  intellectual  habit?, 

18.  Observable  in  different  sects. 

19.  Conclusion. 


•  ii.Mt.M;. 


IM 


BOOK  III. 


o.F  WORD? 


UiAPTERL 
Uj t  words  or  language  in  general. 

SECT. 

1.  Man  fitted  to  form  articulate 
sounds, 

2.  To  make  them  signs  of  ideas. 
3, 4.  To  make  general  signs. 

5.  Words  ultimately  derived  from 
such  as  signify  sensible  idea?, 

6.  Distribution. 

CHAPTER  II. 

Of  the  signification  of  words. 
-*;ct. 
1 .  Words  are  sensible  signs  necessary 

for  communication. 
2, 3.  Words  are  the  sensible  signs  of  his 

ideas  who  uses  them. 

4,  Words  often  secretly  referred, fust, 
to  the  ideas  in  other  men's  minus. 

5.  Secondly,  to  the  reality  of  things. 
<>.  Words  by  use  readily  excite  ideas. 

7.  Words  often  used  without  signifi- 
cation. 

I .  Their  signification  perfectly  arbi- 
*cary. 

CIIAFTERIIf. 

Of  general  terms, 
ii.i  i . 

1.  The  greatest  part  of  words  u>  ue 
ral. 

2.  For  every  particular  thingtohave 
a  name,  is  impossible. 

.1.4.  And  useless. 

5.  What  things  have  proper  names. 
6-8.   How  general  words  are  made. 

9.  General  natures  are  nothing  but 
abstract  ideas. 

10.  Why  the  genus  is  ordinarily  made 
use  of  in  definitions. 

1 1 .  General  and  universal  are  crea- 
tures of  the  understanding. 

12.  Abstract  ideas  are  the  essences  of 
the  genera  and  species. 

;.  They  are  the  workmanship  of  the 
understanding,  but  have  their  si- 
militude in  the  foundation  of 
tilings. 
14.  Each  distinct  abstract  idea  is  a 
distinct  essence. 
;.  Real  and  nominal  essence. 

16.  Constant  connexion  between  the 
name  and  nominal  essence. 

17.  Supposition,  that  species  arc  dis- 
tinguished by  their  real  essences, 
useless. 

Vol,  I,  7 


18.  Realand  nominal  essence  the  same 

in  simple  ideas  and  modes,  differ- 
ent in  substances. 

13.  Essences  ingenerable  and  incor- 
ruptible. 

20.  Recapitulation. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Of  the  names  of  .nmnlc  idea* 
Sect. 

1 .  Names  of  simple  ideas,  modes,  and 
substances,  have  each  something- 
peculiar. 

2.  First,  names  of  simple  ideas  and 
substances,  intimate  real  existence. 

3.  Secondly,  names  of  simple  ideas 
and  modes  signify  always  both 
real  and  nominal  essence. 

4.  Thirdly,  names  of  simple  ideas 
undefinable. 

5.  If  all  were  definable,  it  would  be 
a  process  in  infinitum. 

6.  What  a  definition  is. 

7.  Simple  ideas,  why  undefinabjo, 
C,  9.  Instances,  motion. 

10.  Light. 

1 1.  Simple  ideas,why  undefinable  fur- 
ther explained. 

1  -,  13.  The  contrary  showed  in  com- 
plex ideas  by  instances  of  a  statue 
and  rainbow. 

14.  The  names  of  complex  ideas  when, 
to  be  made  intelligible  by  words. 

15.  Fourthly,  names  of  simple  ideas 
least  doubtful. 

16.  Fifthly,  simple  ideas  have  few 
ascents  in  lina?  praedicamentali. 

17.  Sixthly,  names  of  simple  ideas 
stand  for  ideas  not  at  all  arbitral-}-. 

CHAPTER  V. 

Of  the  names  of  mixed  modes  and  rela- 
tions. 
Sect. 

1.  They  stand  for  abstract  ideas  as 
other  general  names. 

2.  First,  the  ideas  they  stand  for  are 
made  by  the  the  understanding. 

3.  Secondly,  made  arbitrarily,  and 
without  patterns. 

4.  How  this  is  done. 

5.  Evidently  arbitrary,  in  that  the 
idea  is  often  before  the  existence. 

6.  Instances,  murder, incest,  stabbing. 

7.  But  still  subservient  to  the  cud  of 
language. 

8.  Whereof  the  intranslatablc  words 
of  divers  languages  are  a  proof. 


oi) 


CONTENTS. 


Sect. 

9. "This  shows  species  to  be  made  for 
communication, 
10,  11.  In  mixed  modes,  it  is  the  name 
that  ties  the  combination  together, 
and  makes  it  a  species. 

12.  For  the  originals  of  mixed  modes, 
we  look  no  farther  than  the  mind, 
which  also  shows  them  to  be  the 
workmanship  of  the  understand- 
ing. 

13.  Their  being  made  by  the  under- 
standing without  patterns,  shows 
the  reason  why  they  are  so  com- 
pounded. 

14.  Names  of  mixed  modes  stand  al- 
ways for  their  real  essences. 

15.  Why  their  names  are  usually  got 
before  their  ideas. , 

16.  Reason  of  my  being  so  large  on 
this  subject. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Of  the  names  of  substances. 
Sect. 

1.  The  common  names  of  substances 
stand  for  sorts. 

2.  The  essence  of  each  sort  is  the  ab- 
stract idea. 

3.  The  nominal  and  real  essence  dif- 
ferent. 

4-6.   Nothing  essential  to  individuals. 
7,  8.  The  nominal  essence  bounds  the 

species. 
9.  Not  the  real  essence  which  we 

know  not. 

10.  Not  substantial  forms,  which  we 
know  less. 

1 1 .  That  the  nominal  essence  is  that 
whereby  we  distinguish  species, 
farther  evident  from  spirits. 

12.  Whereof  there  are  probably  num- 
berless species. 

13.  The  nominal  essence  that  of  the 
species,  proved  from  water  and 
ice. 

14-18.  Difficulties    against    a    certain 
number  of  real  essences. 
19.  Our  nominal  essences  of  substan- 
ces, hot  perfect  collection?  of  pro- 
per! k 


Sect. 

21.  But  such  a  collection  as  our  name 
stands  for. 

22.  Our  abstract  ideas  are  to  U9  the 
measures  of  species.  Instances  in 
that  of  man. 

23.  Species  not  distinguished  by  gene- 
ration. 

24.  Not  by  substantial  forms. 

25.  The  specific  essences  are  made  by 
the  mind. 

26, 27.  Therefore  very  various  and  un- 
certain. 

28.  But  not  so  arbitrary  as  mixed 
modes. 

29.  Though  very  imperfect. 

30.  Which  yet  serve  for  common  con- 
verse. 

31.  But  make  several  essences  signi- 
fied by  the  same  name. 

32.  The  more  general  our  ideas  are. 
the  more  incomplete  and  partial 
they  are. 

33.  This  all  accommodated  to  the  end 
of  speech. 

34.  Instance  in  cassiowary. 

35.  Men  make  the  species.  Instance 
gold. 

36.  Though  nature  makes  the  simili- 
tude. 

37.  And  continues  it  in  the  races  of 
things. 

38.  Each  abstract  idea  is  an  essence. 

39.  Genera  and  species  are  in  order 
to  naming.    Instance  watch. 

40.  Species  of  artificial  things  less 
confused  than  natural. 

41.  Artificial  things  of  distinct  species. 

42.  Substances  alone  have  propei 
names. 

43.  Difficulty  to  treat  of  words  with 
words. 

44,  45.  Instance    of  mixed   modes    in 

kineah  and  niouph. 
46,  47.  Instance  of  substances  inzahab, 

48.  Their  ideas  imperfect,  and  there- 
fore various. 

49.  Therefore  to  fix  their  species  a 
real  essence  is  supposed. 

50.  Which  supposition  i=  of  no  u?c 

51.  Conclusion. 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 


BOOK  I. 

CHAPTER    I. 

INTRODUCTION. 

O   1.    AN  INQUIRY  INTO  THE  UNDERSTANDING,  PLEASANT  AND  USEFUL. 

Since  it  is  the  understanding  that  sets  men  above  the  rest  of 
sensible  beings,  and  gives  him  all  the  advantage  and  dominion 
which  he  has  over  them  ;  it  is  certainly  a  subject,  even  for  its 
nobleness,  worth  our  labour  to  inquire  into.  The  understand- 
ing, like  the  eye,  whilst  it  makes  us  see  and  perceive  all  other 
things,  takes  no  notice  of  itself;  and  it  requires  art  and  pains  to 
set  it  at  a  distance,  and  make  it  its  own  object.  But,  whatever 
be  the  difficulties  that  lie  in  the  way  of  this  inquiry  ;  whatever  it 
be,  that  keeps  us  so  much  in  the  dark  to  ourselves  ;  sure  I  am. 
that  all  the  light  we  can  let  in  upon  our  own  minds,  all  the  ac- 
quaintance we  can  make  with  our  own  understandings,  will  not 
only  be  very  pleasant,  but  bring  us  great  advantage  in  directing 
our  thoughts  in  the  search  of  other  things. 

§  2.    DESIGN. 

This,  therefore,  being  my  purpose  ;  to  inquire  into  the  origi- 
nal, certainty,  and  extent  of  human  knowledge,  together  with 
the  grounds  and  degrees  of  belief,  opinion,  and  assent — 1  shall 
not  at  present  meddle  with  the  physical  consideration  of  the 
mind,  or  trouble  myself  to  examine,  wherein  its  essence  consists, 
or  by  what  motions  of  our  spirits,  or  alterations  of  our  bodies, 
we  come  to  have  any  sensation  by  our  organs,  or  any  ideas  in 
our  understandings;  and  whether  those  ideas  do,  in  their  forma- 
tion, any,  or  all  of  them,  depend  on  matter  or  no.  These  are 
speculations,  which,  however  curious  and  entertaining,  I  shall 
decline,  as  lying  out  of  my  way  in  the  design  I  am  now  upon. 
H  shall  suffice  to  mv  present  purpose.  <o  ron«iflfr  the  discerning 


q2  INTRODUCTION. 

(acuities  ot'a  man,  as  they  are  employed  about  the  objects  which 
they  have  to  do  with  :  and  1  shall  imagine  I  have  not  wholly 
misemployed  myself  in  the  thoughts  I  shall  have  on  this  occa- 
sion, if,  in  this  historical,  plain  method,  1  can  give  any  account 
of  the  ways  whereby  our  understandings  come  to  attain  those  no- 
tions of  things  we  have,  and  can  set  down  any  measures  of  the 
certainty  of  our  knowledge,  or  the  grounds  of  those  persuasions, 
which  are  to  be  found  among  men,  so  various,  different,  and 
wholly  contradictory  ;  and  yet  asserted,  somewhere  or  other, 
with  such  assurance  and  confidence,  that  he  that  shall  take  a 
view  of  the  opinions  of  mankind,  observe  their  opposition,  and 
at  the  same  time  consider  the  fondness  and  devotion  wherewith 
they  are  embraced,  the  resolution  and  eagerness  wherewith  they 
are  maintained — may  perhaps  have  reason  to  suspect,  that  either 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  truth  at  all,  or  that  mankind  hath  no 
sufficient  means  to  attain  a  certain  knowledge  of  it. 

§  3.    METHOD. 

It  is,  therefore,  worth  while  to  search  out  the  bonds  between 
opinion  and  knowledge  ;  and  examine  by  what  measures,  in 
things  whereof  we  have  no  certain  knowledge,  we  ought  to  regu- 
late our  assent,  and  moderate  our  persuasions.  In  order  where* 
unto,  I  shall  pursue  this  following  method. 

First,  1  shall  inquire  into  the  original  of  those  ideas,  notion?, 
or  whatever  else  you  please  to  call  them,  which  a  man  observes. 
and  is  conscious  to  himself  he  has  in  his  mind,  and  the  ways 
whereby  the  understanding  comes  to  be  furnished  with  them. 

Secondly,  I  shall  endeavour  to  show  what  knowledge  the  un- 
derstanding hath  by  those  ideas  ;  and  the  certainty,  evidence,  and 
extent  of  it. 

Thirdly,  I  shall  make  some  inquiry  into  the  nature  and  grounds 
of  faith,  or  opinion  ;  whereby  1  mean  that  assent  which  we  give 
to  any  proposition  as  true,  of  whose  truth  yet  we  have  no  certain 
knowledge  :  and  here  we  shall  have  occasion  to  examine  the 
reasons  and  degrees  of  assent. 

§  4.    USEFUL  TO  KNOW  THE  EXTENT  OF  OUR  COMPK.EHENSIOV. 

If,  by  this  inquiry  into  the  nature  of  the  understanding,  1  can 
discover  the  powers  thereof,  how  far  they  reach,  to  what  things 
they  are  in  any  degree  proportionate,  and  where  they  fail  us. 
I  suppose  it  may  be  of  use  to  prevail  with  the  busy  mind  of  man, 
to  be  more  cautious  in  meddling  with  things  exceeding  its  com- 
prehension ;  to  stop  when  it  is  at  the  utmost  extent  of  its  tether ; 
and  to  sit  down  in  a  quiet  ignorance  of  those  things,  which,  upon 
examination,  are  found  to  be  beyond  the  reach  of  our  capacities. 
We  should  not  then  perhaps  be  so  forward,  out  of  an  affectation 
of  a  universal  knowledge,  to  raise  questions,  and  perplex  oar- 
selves  and  others  with  disputes  about  things  to  which  our  under- 
standings are  not  suited,  and   of  which  we  cannot  frame  in  oui 


INTRODUCTION. 

minds  any  clear  or  distinct  perceptions,  or  whereof  (as  it  has 
.  perhaps  too  often  happened)  we  have  not  any  notions  at  all.  If 
we  can  find  out  how  far  the  understanding  can  extend  its  view, 
how  far  it  has  faculties  to  attain  certainty,  and  in  what  cases  it 
can  only  judge  and  guess,  we  may  learn  to  content  ourselves 
with  what  is  attainable  by  us  in  this  state. 

§  5.  OUR  CAPACITY  SUITED  TO  OUR  STATE  AND  CONCERNS. 

For,  though  the  comprehension  of  our  understandings  comes 
exceeding  short  of  the  vast  extent  of  things  ;  yet  we  shall  have 
cause  enough  to  magnify  the  bountiful  Author  of  our  being,  for 
that  proportion  and  degree  of  knowledge  he  has  bestowed  on  us. 
so  far  above  all  the  rest  of  the  inhabitants  of  this  our  mansion! 
Men  have  reason  to  be  well  satisfied  with  what  God  hath  thought 
fit  for  them,  since  he  hath  given  them  (as  St.  Peter  says)  ttuvIcc 
rrf«5  Zpw  Kctt  evce&txv,  whatsoever  is  necessary  for  the  conveniences 
of  life  and  information  of  virtue  ;  and  has  put  within  the  reach 
of  their  discovery  the  comfortable  provision  for  this  life,  and  the 
way  that  leads  to  a  better.  How  short  soever  their  knowledge 
may  come  of  a  universal  or  perfect  comprehension  of  whatso- 
ever is,  it  yet  secures  their  great  concernments,  that  they  have 
light  enough  to  lead  them  to  the  knowledge  of  their  Maker,  and 
the  sight  of  their  own  duties.  Men  may  find  matter  sufficient  to 
busy  their  heads,  and  employ  their  hands  with  variety,  delight, 
and  satisfaction,  if  they  will  not  boldly  quarrel  with  their  own 
constitution,  and  throw  away  the  blessings  their  hands  are  filled 
with,  because  they  are  not  big  enough  to  grasp  every  thing. 
We  shall  not  have  much  reason  to  complain  of  the  narrowness 
of  our  minds,  if  we  will  but  employ  them  about  what  may  be 
of  use  to  us :  for  of  that  they  are  very  capable  :  and  it  will  be 
an  unpardonable,  as  well  as  childish  peevishness,  if  we  under- 
value the  advantages  of  our  knowledge,  and  neglect  to  improve 
it  to  the  ends  for  which  it  was  given  us,  because  there  are  some 
Ihings  that  are  set  out  of  the  reach  of  it.  It  will  be  no  excuse 
to  an  idle  and  untoward  servant,  who  would  not  attend  his  busi- 
ness by  candlelight,  to  plead  that  he  had  not  broad  sunshine. 
The  candle  that  is  set  up  in  us,  shines  bright  enough  for  all  our 
purposes.  The  discoveries  we  can  make  with  this,  ought  to 
satisfy  us  :  and  we  shall  then  use  our  understandings  right,  when 
avc  entertain  all  objects  in  that  way  and  proportion  as  they  are 
suited  to  our  faculties,  and  upon  those  grounds  they  are  capable 
of  being  proposed  to  us  ;  and  not  peremptorily  or  intemperately 
require  demonstration,  and  demand  certainty,  where  probability 
only  is  to  be  had,  and  which  is  sufficient  to  govern  all  our  con- 
cernments. If  we  will  disbelieve  every  thing,  because  we  can- 
not certainly  know  all  things,  we  shall  do  muchwhat  as  wisely  as 
he,  who  would  not  use  his  legs,  but  «it  «till  and  perish,  because 
be  had  no  wines  to  flv. 


larraoDUCTiON. 

§  6.  KNOWLEDGE  OF  OUR  CAPACITY,  A  CURE  OF  SKEPTICISM  AND 
IDLENESS. 

When  we  know  our  own  strength,  wc  shall  the  better  know 
what  to  undertake  with  hopes  of  success  ;  and  when  we  have 
well  surveyed  the  powers  of  our  own  minds,  and  made  some  es- 
timate what  we  may  expect  from  them,  we  shall  not  be  inclined 
either  to  sit  still,  and  not  set  our  thoughts  on  work  at  all,  in  de- 
spair of  knowing  any  thing ;  or,  on  the  other  side,  question 
every  thing,  and  disclaim  all  knowledge,  because  some  things  are 
not  to  be  understood.  It  is  of  great  use  to  the  sailor,  to  know 
the  length  of  his  line,  though  he  cannot  with  it  fathom  all  the 
depths  of  the  ocean.  It  is  well  he  knows,  that  it  is  long  enough 
to  reach  the  bottom,  at  such  places  as  are  necessary  to  direct  his 
voyage,  and  caution  him  against  running  upon  shoals  that  may 
ruin  him.  Our  business  here  is  not  to  know  all  things,  but  those 
which  concern  our  conduct.  If  we  can  find  out  those  measures, 
whereby  a  rational  creature,  put  in  that  state  in  which  man  is  in 
this  world,  may,  and  ought  to  govern  his  opinions,  and  actions 
depending  thereon,  we  need  not  to  be  troubled  that  some  other 
things  escape  our  knowledge. 

§  7.    OCCASION  OF  THIS  ESSAY. 

This  was  that  which  gave  the  first  rise  to  this  essay  concerning 
the  understanding.  For  I  thought  that  the  first  step  towards  sa- 
tisfying several  inquiries  the  mind  of  man  was  very  apt  to  run 
into,  was  to  take  a  survey  of  our  own  understandings,  examine 
our  own  powers,  and  see  to  what  things  they  were  adapted. 
Till  that  was  done,  I  suspected  we  began  at  the  wrong  end,  and 
in  vain  sought  for  satisfaction  in  a  quiet  and  sure  possession  of 
truths  that  most  concerned  us,  whilst  we  let  loose  our  thoughts 
into  the  vast  ocean  of  being;  as  if  all  that  boundless  extent  were 
the  natural  and  undoubted  possession  of  our  understandings, 
wrherein  there  was  nothing  exempt  from  its  decisions,  or  that  es- 
caped its  comprehension.  Thus  men  extending  their  inquiries 
beyond  their  capacities,  and  letting  their  thoughts  wander  into 
those  depths,  where  they  can  find  no  sure  footing  ;  it  is  no  won- 
der, that  they  raise  questions,  and  multiply  disputes,  which, 
never  coming  to  any  clear  resolution,  are  proper  only  to  con- 
tinue and  increase  their  doubts,  and  to  comfirm  them  at  last  in 
perfect  skepticism.  Whereas,  were  the  capacities  of  our  under- 
standings well  considered,  the  extent  of  our  knowledge  once 
discovered,  and  the  horizon  found,  which  sets  the  bounds  be- 
tween the  enlightened  and  dark  parts  of  things,  between  what 
is  and  what  is  not  comprehensible  by  us — -men  would  perhaps 
with  less  scruple  acquiesce  in  the  avowed  ignorance  of  the  one, 
and  employ  their  thoughts  and  discourse  with  more  advantage 
and  satisfaction  in  the  other. 


CRODUCTIOft. 
v    u.    WHAT  IDEA  STANDS  FOl. 

Thus  much  I  thought  necessary  to  say  concerning  ihe  occasion 
of  this  inquiry  into  human  understanding.  But  before  I  pro- 
ceed on  to  what  I  have  thought  on  this  subject,  I  must  here  in 
the  entrance  beg  pardon  of  my  reader  for  the  frequent  use  of  the 
word  "  idea,"  which  he  will  find  in  the  following  treatise.  It 
being  that  term,  which,  I  think,  serves  best  to  stand  for  whatso- 
ever is  the  object  of  the  understanding  when  a  man  thinks ;  I 
have  used  it  to  express  whatever  is  meant  by  phantasm,  notion, 
species,  or  whatever  it  is  which  the  mind  can  be  employed  about 
in  thinking  ;  and  I  could  not  avoid  frequently  using  it.  (1) 

I  presume  it  will  be  easily  granted  me,  that  there  are  such 
ideas  in  men's  minds :  every  one  is  conscious  of  them  in  himself, 
and  men's  words  and  actions  will  satisfy  him  that  they  are  in 
others. 

Our  first  inquiry  then  shall  be,  how  they  come  into  the  mind. 

1.  This  modest  apology  of  our  author  could  not  procure  him  the  free  use  of  the 
word  idea  :  but  great  offence  has  been  taken  at  it,  and  it  has  been  censured  as 
of  dangerous  consequence :  to  which  you  may  here  see  what  he  answers.  "  The 
world,"  saith  the  bishop  of  Worcester?  "  hath  been  strangely  amused  with  ideas 
of  late,  and  we  have  been  told,  that  strange  things  might  be  done  by  the  help  of 
■ideas;  and  yet  these  ideas,  at  last,  come  to  be  only  common  notions  of  things, 
which  we  must  make  use  of  in  our  reasonings.  You  (i.  e.  the  author  of  the 
Essay  concerning  Human  Understanding)  say  in  that  chapter  about  the  existence 
of  God,  you  thought  it  most  proper  to  express  yourself  in  the  most  usual  and 
familiar  way,  by  common  words  and  expressions.  I  would  you  had  done  so 
quite  through  your  book  ;  for  then  you  had  never  given  that  occasion  to  the  ene- 
mies of  our  faith,  to  take  up  your  new  way  of  ideas,  as  an  effectual  battery  (as 
1  hey  imagined)  against  the  mysteries  of  the  Christian  faith.  But  you  might  have 
enjoyed  the  satisfaction  of  your  ideas,  long  enough  before  I  had  taken  notice  of 
them,  unless  1  had  found  them  employed  about  doing  mischief.'"' 

To  which  our  author  replies,-!  It  is  plain,  that  that  which  your  lordship  appre- 
hends, in  my  book,  may  be  of  dangerous  consequence  to  the  article  which  your 
lordship  has  endeavoured  to  defend,  is  my  introducing  new  terms  ;  and  ( hat  which 
your  lordship  instances  in,  it  that  of  ideas.  And  the  reason  your  lordship  gives 
in  every  of  these  places,  why  your  lordship  has  such  an  apprehension  of  idea.". 
that  they  may  be  of  dangerous  consequence  to  that  article  of  faith  which  your 
lordship  has  endeavoured  to  defend,  is  because  they  have  been  applied  to  suck 
purposes.  And  I  might  (your  lordship  says)  have  enjoyed  the  satisfaction  of  my 
ideas  long  enough  before  you  had  taken  notice  of  them,  unless  your  lordship  had 
found  them  employed  in  doing  mischief.  Which,  at  last,  as  I  humbly  conceive, 
amounts  to  thus  much,  and  no  more  :  vis.  That  your  lordship  fears  ideas,  i.e. 

the  term  ideas,  may,  some  time  or  other,  prove  of  very  dangerous  conseqi 

to  what  your  lordship   has  endeavoured  to   defend,  because  they  havi 
criade  use  of  in  arguing  agfainst  it.     Fori  am  sure  jour-lordship  does  not  mean,  thai 
you  apprehend  the  things,  signified  by  .  t>e  of  dangerous  cons.. 

Lo  the  article  of  faith  your  lordship  endeavours  to  defend}  because  they  ha\  i 
made  use  of  against  it :  for  (besidesthat  your  lordshipjuentions  terms)  Iha! 
be  to  expect  that  those  who  oppose  that  article,  should  oppose  it  without  any 
thoughts ;  for  the  things  signified  by  ideas;  are  nothing  but  the  immediate  ■ 
of  our  minds  in  thinking:  so  that  unless  any  0113  can  oppose  the  article  your 
ordship  defends,  without  thinking  oh  something;,  he  must  use  the  things  signified 
[rf  ideas;  for  lie  that  thinks  must  have  some  immediate  object  of  his  mind  in 
■  linking,  i.  e.  m  1    deas. 

'  e  the  name,  or  the  thing;  ideas  in  sound,  or 

*  Answer  to  Mr.  Locke's  Firs!  Letter. 

_     .. 


,6  IITTRODUCTJOffl 

1  ion,  that  your  lordship  apprehends  may  he  of  dangerous  consequemeio  iiiui  article 
of  faith  wJi  ich  your  lordship  endeavours  to  defend — it  seems  to  me,  I  will  not  say  a 
new  way  of  reasoning  (for  that  belongs  to  me ;)  but  were  it  not  your  lordship's,  I 
should  think  it  a  very  extraordinary  way  of  reasoning,  to  write  against  a  book, 
wherein  your  lordship  acknowledges  they  are  not  used  to  bad  purposes,  nor  em- 
ployed to  do  mischief,  only  because  you  find  that  ideas  are,  by  those  who  oppose 
your  lordship,  employed  to  do  mischief;  and  so  apprehend,  that  they  may  be  of  dan- 
gerous consequence  to  the  article  your  lordship  has  engagedin  the  defence  of.  For 
whether  ideas  as  terms,  or  ideas  as  the  immediate  objects  of  the  mind  signified  by 
those  terms,  may  be,  in  your  lordship's  apprehension,  of  dangerous  consequence  to 
that  article — I  do  not  see  how  your  lordship's  writing  against  the  notion  of  ideas, 
as  stated  in  my  book,  will  at  all  hinder  your  opposers/rom  employing  them  in  doing 
mischief,  as  before. 

However,  be  that  as  it  will,  so  it  is,  that  your  lordship  apprehends  these  new 
terms,  these  ideas,  with  which  the  world  hath  of  late  been  so  strangely  amused 
(though  at  last  they  come  to  be  only  common  notions  of  things,  as  your  lordship 
owns)  may  be  of  dangerous  consequence  to  that  article. 

My  lord,  if  any,  in  answer  to  your  lordship's  sermons,  and  in  other  pamphlets, 
wherein  your  lordship  complains  they  have  talked  so  much  of  ideas,  have  been, 
troublesome  to  your  lordship  with  that  term,  it  is  not  strange  that  your  lordship 
should  be  tired  with  that  sound  :  but  how  natural  soever  it  be  to  our  weak  con- 
stitutions to  be  offended  with  any  sound  wherewith  an  importunate  din  hath  been 
made  about  our  ears ;  yet,  my  lord,  I  know  your  lordship  has  a  better  opinion  of 
the  articles  of  our  faith,  than  to  think  any  of  them  can  be  overturned,  or  so  much 
as  shaken,  with  a  breath  formed  into  any  sound  or  term  whatsoever. 

Names  are  but  the  arbitrary  marks  of  conceptions ;  and  so  they  be  sufficiently 
appropriated  to  them  in  their  use,  I  know  no  other  difference  any  of  them  have 
in  particular,  but  as  they  are  of  easy  or  difficult  pronunciation,  and  of  a  more  or 
less  pleasant  sound  ;  and  what  particular  antipathies  there  may  be  in  men  to  some 
of  them,  upon  that  account,  is  not  easy  to  be  foreseen.  This  I  am  sure,  no  term 
whatsoever  in  itself  bears,  one  more  than  another,  any  opposition  to  truth  of  any 
kind  ;  they  are  only  propositions  that  do  or  can  oppose  the  truth  of  any  article  or 
doctrine ;  and  thus  no  term  is  privileged  for  being  set  in  opposition  to  truth. 

There  is  no  word  to  be  found,  which  may  not  be  brought  into  a  proposition, 
wherein  the  most  sacred  and  most  evident  truths  may  be  opposed  ;  but  that  is  not 
a  fault  in  the  term,  but  him  that  uses  it.  And  therefore  I  cannot  easily  persuade 
myself  (whatever  your  lordship  hath  said  in  the  heat  of  your  concern)  that 
you  have  bestowed  so  much  pains  upon  my  book,  because  the  word  idea  is  so 
much  used  there .  For  though  upon  my  saying,  in  my  chapter  about  the  exist- 
ence of  God, '  That  I  scarce  used  the  word  idea  in  that  whole  chapter,  your  lord- 
ship wishes,  that  /  had  done  so  quite  through  my  book ;  yet  I  must  rather  look  upon 
that  as  a  compliment  to  me,  wherein  your  lordship  wished  that  my  book  had 
been  all  through  suited  to  vulgar  readers,  not  used  to  that  and  the  like  terms,  than 
that  your  lordship  has  such  an  apprehension  of  the  word  idea, ;  or  that  there. 
as  any  such  harm  in  the  use  of  it,  instead  of  the  word  notion  (with  which 
Your  lordship  seems  to  take  it  to  agree  in  signification,)  that  your  lordship 
would  think  it  worth  your  while  to  spend  any  part  of  your  valuable  time  and 
thoughts  about  my  book,  for  having  the  word  idea  so  often  in  it,;  for  this  would  be 
to  make  your  lordship  to  write  only  against  an  impropriety  of  speech.  I  own 
to  your  lordship,  it  is  a  great  condescension  in  your  lordship  to  have  done 
it,  if  that  word  have  such  a  share  in  what  your  lordship  has  writ  against  my 
book,  as  some  expressions  would  persuade  one  ;  and  I  would,  for  the  satisfaction 
of  your  lordship,  change  the  term  of  idea  for  a  better,  if  your  lordship,  or  any 
one,  could  help  me  to  it;  for,  that  notion  will  not  so  well  stand  for  every  immediate 
object  of  reason  in  my  book,  by  showing  that  the  term  notio?i  is  more  peculiarly 
appropriated  to  a  certain  sort  of  those  objects,  which  I  call  mixed  modes :  and  f 
i  hink  it  would  not  sound  altogether  so  well,  to  say,  the  notion  of  red,  and  the 
•notion  of  a  horse  ;  as  the  idea,  of  red,  and  the  idea  of  a  horse.  But  if  any  one 
thinks  it  will,  I  contend  not ;  for  I  have  no  fondness  for,  nor  any  antipathy  to,  any 
particular  articulate  sounds  ;  nor  do  I  think  there  is  any  spell  or  fascination  in  any 
>>f  them. 

Hut  be  the  word  idea  proper  or  improper,  I  do  not  see  how  it  is  the  better  or  the 
'  e.  because  SI  men  have  made  use  of  it,  or  because  it  has  been  made  use  of  tc 


INTRODUCTION.  .7? 

had  purposes ;  for  ii  that  be  a  reason  to  condemn,  or  lay  ii  by,  \v<-  iuu*i.  lay  by  the 
terms  scripture,  reason,  perception,  distinct,  clear,  &c.  Nay,  the  name  of  God 
himself  will  not  escape  ;  fori  do  not  think  any  one  of  these,  or  any  other  term, 
can  be  produced,  which  hath  not  been  made  use  of  by  such  men,  and  to  such  pur- 
poses. And  therefore,  if  the  Unitarians,  in  their  late  pamphlet^  have  talked  vert) 
much  of,  and  strangely  amused  the  world  with  ideas,  I  cannot  believe  your  lordship 
will  think  that  word  one  jot  the  worse,  or  the  more  dangerous,  because  they  use 
it;  any  more  than,  for  their  use  of  them,  you  will  think  reason  or  scripture  terms 
ill  or  dangerous.  And  therefore  what  your  lordship  says,  that  I  might  have  enjoyed 
the  satisfaction  of  my  ideas  long  enough  before  your  lordship  had  taken  notice  of  them, 
i.mtess  you  had  found  them  employed  in  doing  mischief;  will,  1  presume,  when  your 
lordship  has  considered  again  of  this  matter,  prevail  with  your  lordship,  to  let  me 
enjoy  still  the  satisfaction  I  take  in  my  ideas, i.  e.  as  much  satisfaction  as  1  can  take 
in  so  small  a  matter,  as  is  the  using  of  a  proper  term,  notwithstanding  it  should  be 
employed  by  others  in  doing  mischief. 

For,  my  lord,  if  I  should  leave  it  wholly  out  of  my  book  and  substitute  the 
word  notion  every  where  in  the  room  of  it,  and  every  body  else  do  so  too,  (though 
your  lordship  does  not,  I  suppose,  suspect  that  I  have  the  vanity  to  think  they 
would  follow  my  example)  my  book  would  it  seems,  be  the  more  to  your  lord- 
ship's liking ;  but  I  do  not  see  how  this  would  one  jot  abate  the  mischief  youi 
lordship  complains  of.  For  the  Unitarians  might  as  much  employ  notions,  as  they 
do  now  ideas  to  do  mischief;  unless  they  are  such  fools  to  think  they  can  conjure 
with  this  notable  word  idea,  and  that  the  force  of  what  they  say  lies  in  the  sounda 
and  not  in  the  signification  of  their  terms. 

This  I  am  sure  of,  that  the  truths  of  the  Christian  religion  can  be  no  more  bat- 
tered by  one  word  than  another ;  nor  can  they  be  beaten  down  or  endangered  by 
any  sound  whatsoever.  And  1  am  apt  to  flatter  myself,  that  your  lordship  is  satis- 
fied that  there  is  no  harm  in  the  word  ideas,  because  you  say,  you  should  not  have 
taken  any  notice  of  my  ideas,  if  the  enemies  of  our  faith  had  not  taken  up  my  new 
way  of  ideas,  as  an  effectual  battery  against  the  mysteries  of  the  Christian  faith.  In 
which  place,  by  new  way  of  ideas,  nothing,  I  think,  can  be  construed  to  be  meant., 
but  my  expressing  myself  by  that  of  ideas  ;  and  not  by  other  more  common  words 
and  of  ancienter  standing  in  the  English  language. 

As  to  the  objection,  of  the  author's  way  by  ideas  being  a  new  way,  he  thus 
answers  :  my  new  ivay  by  ideas,  or  my  way  by  ideas,  which  often  occurs  in  your 
lordship's  letter,  is,  I  confess,  a  very  large  and  doubtful  expression,  and  may,  in  the 
full  latitude,  comprehend  my  whole  essay ;  because  treating  in  it  of  the  under- 
standing,  which  is  nothing  but  the  faculty  of  thinking,  I  could  not  well  treat  of 
iJiat  faculty  of  the  mind,  which  consists  in  thinking,  without  considering  the  imme- 
diate objects  of  the  mind  in  thinking,  which  I  call  ideas :  and  therefore  in  treating 
of  the  understanding,  I  guess  it  will  not  be  thought  strange,  that  the  greatest  part 
ef  my  book  has  been  taken  up,  in  considering  what  these  objects  of  the  mind,  in 
thinking,  are  ;  whence  they  come  ;  what  use  the  mind  makes  of  them,  in.  its  seve- 
ral ways  of  thinking  ;  and  what  are  the  outward  marks  whereby  it  signifies  them  to 
others,  or  records  them  for  its  own  use.  And  this,  in  short,  is  my  way  by  ideas,  that 
which  your  lordship  calls  my  nexo  way  by  ideas ;  which,  my  lord,  if  it  be  new,  it  is 
but  a  new  history  of  an  old  thing.  For  I  think  it  will  not  be  doubted,  that  men 
always  performed  the  actions  of  thinking,  reasoning,  believing,  and  knowing,  just 
after  the  same  manner  they  do  now ;  though  whether  the  same  account  lias  here- 
tofore been  given  of  the  way  how  they  performed  these  actions,  or  wherein  they 
consisted,  I  do  not  know.  Were  I  as  well  read  as  your  lordship,  I  should  have 
been  safe  from  that  gentle  reprimand  of  your  lordship's  for  thinking  my  way  of 
lieas  new,  for  want  of  looking  into  other  men's  thoughts,  which  appear  in  their 
hooks. 

Your  lordship's  words,  as  an  acknowledgment  of  your  instructions  in  the  case, 
and  as  a  warning  to  others,  who  will  be  so  bold  adventurers  as  to  spin  any  thing 
barely  out  of  their  own  thoughts,  I  shall  set  down  at  large.  And  they  run  thus : 
"  Whether  you  took  this  way  of  ideas  from  the  modern  philosopher  men- 
tioned by  you,  is  not  at  all  material;  but  I  intended  no  reflection  upon 
you  in  it  (for  that  you  mean,  by  my  commending  you  as  a  scholar  of  so 
great  a  master  ;)  I  never  meant  to  take  from  you  the  honour  of  your  own  inven- 
tions: and  1  do  believe  you  when  you  say,  That  you  wrote  from  your  own  thoughts, 
and  the  ideas  you  had  there.  But  many  things  may  seem  new  to  one,  who  con- 
vrrses  only  with  hi-  own  thoughts,  whieh  reallv  are  not  so  ;  as  he  may  find,,  wh§p 
VnL.  I.  B 


58  INTRODUCTION. 

he  looks  into  the  thoughts  of  other  men,  which  appear  in  their  books.  And  there- 
fore,  although  I  have  a  just  esteem  for  the  invention  of  such  who  can  spin  volumes 
barely  out  of  their  own  thoughts ;  yet  I  am  apt  to  think,  they  would  oblige  the 
world  more,  if,  after  they  have  thought  so  much  themselves,  they  would  examine 
what  thoughts  others  have  had  before  them  concerning  the  same  things ;  that  so 
those  may  not  be  thought  their  own  inventions  which  are  common  to  themselves 
and  others-  If  a  man  should  try  all  the  magnetical  experiments  himself,  and  pub- 
lish them  as  his  own  thoughts,  he  might  take  himself  to  be  the  inventor  of  them  ; 
but  he  that  examines  and  compares  with  them  what  Gilbert  and  others  have  done 
before  him,  will  not  diminish  the  praise  of  his  diligence,  but  may  wish  he  had 
compared  his  thoughts  with  other  men's ;  by  which  the  world  would  receive 
greater  advantage,  although  he  had  lost  the  honour  of  being  an  original." 

To  alleviate  my  fault  herein,  1  agree  with  your  lordship,  that  many  things  may 
seem  new  to  one  that  converses  only  with  his  own  thoughts,  ivhich  really  are  not  so  : 
but  I  must  crave  leave  to  suggest  to  your  lordship,  that  if,  in  the  spinning  them 
out  of  his  own  thoughts,  they  seem  new  to  him,  he  is  certainly  the  inventor  of 
them  ;  and  they  may  as  justly  be  thought  his  own  invention,  as  any  one's ;  and  he 
is  as  certainly  the  inventor  of  them,  as  any  one  who  thought  on  them  before  him  : 
the  distinction  of  invention,  or  not  invention,  lying  not  in  thinking  first,  or  not  first, 
but  in  borrowing,  or  not  borrowing  our  thoughts  from  another  :  and  he  to  whom 
spinning  them  out  of  his  own  thoughts,  they  seem  new,  could  not  certainly  borrow 
them  from  another.  So  he  truly  invented  printing  in  Europe,  who,  without  any 
communication  with  the  Chinese,  spun  it  out  of  his  own  thoughts ;  though  it  were 
ever  so  true,  that  the  Chinese  had  the  use  of  printing,  nay,  of  printing  in  the  very 
same  way  among  them,  many  ages  before  him.  So  that  he  that  spins  any  thing 
out  of  liis  own  thoughts,  that  seems  new  to  him,  cannot  cease  to  think  it  his  own  in- 
vention, should  he  examine  ever  so  far,  what  thoughts  others  have  had  before  him 
concerning  the  same  thing,  and  should  find,  by  examining,  that  they'had  the  same 
thoughts  too. 

But  what  great  obligation  this  would  be  to  the  world,  or  weighty  cause  of  turn- 
ing over  and  looking  into  books,  1  confess  i  do  not  see.  The  great  end  to  me,  in 
conversing  with  my  own  or  other  men's  thoughts,  in  matters  of  speculation,  is  to 
find  truth,  without  being  much  concerned  whether  my  own  spinning  of  it 
out  of  mine,  or  their  spinning  of  it  out  of  their  own  thoughts,  helps  me  to  it.  And 
how  little  1  affect  the  honour  of  an  original,  may  be  seen  at  that  place  of  my  bookT 
where,  if  any  where,  that  itch  of  vainglory  was  likeliest  to  have  shown  itself,  had 
I  been  so  overrun  with  it,  as  to  need  a  cure  :  it  is  where  I  speak  of  certainty,  in 
these  following  words,  taken  notice  of  by  your  lordship,  in  another  place :  "  I  think 
I  have  shown  wherein  it  is  that  certainty,  real  certainty,  consists;  which,  what- 
ever it  was  to  others,  was,  I  confess,  to  me,  heretofore,  one  of  those  desiderata 
which  I  found  great  want  of." 

Here,  my  lord,  however  new  this  seemed  to  me,  (and  the  more  so  because  possi- 
bly I  had  in  vain  hunted  for  it  in  the  books  of  others)  yet  I  spoke  of  it  as  new,  only 
to  myself;  leaving  others  in  the  undisturbed  possession  of  what,  either  by  inven- 
tion or  reading,  was  theirs  before ;  without  assuming  to  myself  any  other  honour, 
but  that  of  my  own  ignorance,  till  that  time,  if  others  before  had  shown  wherein 
certainty  lay.  And  yet,  my  lord, if  I  had,  upon  this  occasion,  been  forward  to  as- 
sume to  myself  the  honour  of  unoriginal,  I  think  I  had  been  pretty  safe  in  it ;  since 
I  should  have  had  your  lordship  for  my  guarantee  and  vindicator  in  that  point,  who 
are  pleased  to  call  it  new,  and,  as  such,  to  write  against  it. 

And  truly,  my  lord,  in  this  respect,  my  book  has  had  very  unlucky  stars,  since 
it  hath  had  the  misfortune  to  displease  your  lordship,  with  many  things  in  it,  for 
their  novelty  ;  as,  new  way  of  reasoning,  new  hypothesis  about  reason,  new  sort  of 
certainty,  new  terms,  new  way  of  ideas,  new  method  of  certainly,  Sic.  And  yet,  in 
other  places,  your  lordship  seems  to  think  it  worthy  in  me  of  your  lordship's  re- 
flection, for  saying  but  w'hat  others  have  said  before  :  as  where  I  say,  "  In  the  dif- 
ferent make  of  men's  tempers,  and  application  of  their  thoughts,  some  argu- 
ments prevail  more  on  one,  and  some  on  another,  for  the  confirmation  of  the  same 
truth."  Your  lordship  asks.  What  is  this  different  from  what  all  men  of  under- 
standing have  said  ?  Again,  I  take  it,  your  lordship  meant  not  these  words  for  a 
commendation  of  my  book,  where  you  say,  but  if  no  more  be  meant  by  "  The  sim- 
ple ideas  that  come  in  by  sensation,  or  reflection,  and  their  being  the  foundation 
of  o  ur  knowledge,"  but  that  our  notions  of  things  come  in,  either  from  our  senses  or 
tRt  exercise  of  our  fttindi ;  as  there  is  nothing  extraordinary  in  the  discovery,  so  yov.x 


INTRODUCTION.  69 

lordship  %s  far  enough  from  opposing  that,  irherein  you  think  all  mankind  are 
agreed. 

And  again,  But  what  need  all  this  great  noise  about  ideas  and  certainty,  true  and 
real  certainty  by  ideas,  if,  after  all,  it  comes  only  to  (Ids ;  that  our  ideas  only  re- 
present to  us  such  things,  from  whence  we  bring  arguments  to  prove  the  truth  of 
th  ings  ? 

But  the  world  hath  been  strangely  amused  with  ideas  of  laic ;  and  we  have  been 
told,  that  strange  things  might  be  done  by  the  help  of  ideas  ;  and  yet  these  ideas,  at 
last,  come  to  be,  only  common  notions  of  things,  which  we  must  make  use  of  in  our 
reasoning.     And  to  the  like  purpose  in  other  places. 

Whether,  therefore,  at  last,  your  lordship  will  resolve  that  it  is  new  or  no,  or 
more  faulty  by  its  being  new,  must  be  left  to  your  lordship.  This  I  find  by  it,  that 
my  book  cannot  avoid  being  condemned  on  the  one  side  or  the  other,  nor  do  I  see 
a  possibility  to  help  it.  If  there  be  readers  that  like  only  new  thoughts ;  or,  on 
the  other  side,  others  that  can  bear  nothing  but  what  can  be  justified  by  received 
authorities  in  print — I  must  desire  them  to  make  themselves  amends  in  that  part 
which  they  like,  for  the  displeasure  they  receive  in  the  other  ;  but  if  any  should  be 
so  exact,  as  to  find  fault  with  both,  truly  I  know  not  well  what  to  say  to  them. 
The  case  is  a  plain  case,  the  book  is  all  over  naught,  and  there  isnot  a  sentence  in 
it,  that  is  not,  either  for  its  antiquity  or  novelty,  to  be  condemned  ;  and  so  there  is 
a  short  end  of  it.  From  your  lordship,  indeed,  in  particular,  I  can  hope  for  some- 
thing better ;  for  your  lordship  thinks  the  general  design  of  it  so  good,  that  that,  I 
flatter  myself,  would  prevail  on  your  lordship  to  preserve  it  from  the  fire. 

But  as  to  the  way,  your  lordship  thinks,  I  should  have  taken  to  prevent  the 
having  it.  thought  my  invention,  when  it  teas  common  to  me  with  others,  it  unluckily 
so  fell  out,  in  the  subject  of  my  Essay  of  Human  Understanding,  that  I  could  not 
look  into  the  thoughts  of  other  men  to  inform  myself:  for  my  design  being,  as  well 
as  I  could,  to  copy  nature,  and  to  give  an  account  of  the  operations  of  the  mind  in 
thinking,  I  could  look  into  nobody's  understanding  but  my  own,  to  see  how  it 
wrought ;  nor  have  a  prospect  into  other  men's  minds,  to  view  their  thoughts  there, 
and  observe  what  steps  and  motions  they  took,  and  by  what  gradations  they  pro- 
ceeded in  their  acquainting  themselves  with  truth, and  their  advance  in  knowledge: 
what  we  find  of  their  thoughts  in  books,  is  but  the  result  of  this,  and  not  the  pro- 
gress and  working  of  their  minds,  in  coming  to  the  opinions  or  conclusions  they 
?et  down  and  published. 

All,  therefore,  that  I  can  say  of  my  book  is,  that  it  is  a  copy  of  my  own  mind,  in  its 
•everal  ways  of  operation :  and  all  that  I  can  say  for  the  publishing  of  it  is,  that  I 
think  the  intellectual  faculties  are  made,  and  operate  alike  in  most  men  ;  and  that 
some,  that  I  showed  it  to  before  I  published  it,  liked  it  so  well,  that  I  was  confirmed 
in  that  opinion.  And  therefore,  if  it  should  happen  that  it  should  not  be  so,  but 
that  some  men  should  have  ways  of  thinking,  reasoning,  or  arriving  at  certainty, 
different  from  others,  and  above  those  that  I  find  my  mind  to  use  and  acquiesce  in, 
I  do  not  see  of  what  use  my  book  can  be  to  them.  I  can  only  make  it  my  humble 
request,  in  my  own  name,  and  in  the  name  of  those  that  are  of  ray  size,  who  find 
their  minds  work,  reason,  and  know  in  the  same  low  way  that  mine  does,  that  those 
men  of  a  more  happy  genius  would  show  us  the  way  of  their  nobler  flights  ;  and 
particularly  would  discover  to  us  their  shorter  or  surer  way  to  certainty,  than  by 
ideas,  and  the  observing  their  agreement  or  disagreement. 

Your  lordship  adds,  But  noiv,  it  seems,  nothing  is  intelligible  but  what  suits  icith 
the  new  way  of  ideas.  My  lord,  the  new  way  of  ideas,  and  the  old  way  of  speak- 
ing intelligibly,*  was  always  and  ever  will  be  the  same ;  and  if  I  may  take  the 
liberty  to  declare  my  sense  of  it,  herein  it  consists  ;  1.  That  a  man  use  no  words, 
but  such  as  he  makes  the  signs  of  certain  determined  objects  of  his  mind  in 
thinking,  which  he  can  make  known  to  another.  2.  Next,  That  he  use  the  same 
word  steadily  for  the  sign  of  the  same  immediate  object  of  his  mind  in  thinking. 
3.  That  he  join  those  words  together  in  propositions,  according  to  the  grammatical 
rules  of  that  language  he  speaks  in.  4.  That  he  unites  those  sentences  in  a  coherent 
discourse.  Thus,  and  thus  only,  I  humbly  conceive,  any  one  may  preserve  him- 
self from  the  confines  and  suspicion  of  jargon,  whether  he  pleases  to  call  those  im~ 
modiatc  objects  of  his  mind,  which  his  words  do,  or  should  stand  for,  ideasxOT  n» 

Mr.  I.orlie's  Tbir.l  Letter  to  the  Bishop  of  WorT-sier  . 


«JG 


CHAPTER  II. 

]NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  IN  THE  MIND. 

i   1.    THE  WAY  SHOWN   HOW  WE  COME  BY  ANY  KNOWLEDGE,  SUFFICIENT 
TO  PROVE  IT  NOT  INNATE. 

It  is  an  established  opinion  among  some  men  that  there 
are  in  the  understanding  certain  innate  principles  some  primary 
notions,  Koivxt  evtotat  characters  as  it  were,  stamped  upon  the  mind 
of  man,  which  the  soul  receives  in  its  verv  first  being,  and  brings 
into  the  world  with  it.  It  would  be  sufficient  to  convince  unpre- 
judiced readers  of  the  falseness  of  this  supposition,  if  1  should 
only  show  (as  1  hope  1  shall  in  the  following  parts  of  this 
discourse)  how  men,  barely  by  the  use  of  their  natural  facul- 
ties, may  attain  to  all  the  knowledge  they  have,  without  the 
help  of  any  innate  impressions  ;  and  may  arrive  at  certainty, 
without  any  such  original  notions  or  principles.  For  I  imagine 
any  one  will  easily  grant,  that  it  would  be  impertinent  to  suppose 
the  ideas  of  colours  innate  in  a  creature,  to  whom  God  hath  given 
sight  and  a  power  to  receive  them  by  the  eyes,  from  external 
objects :  and  no  less  unreasonable  would  it  be  to  attribute  several 
truths  to  the  impressions  of  nature,  and  innate  characters,  when 
we  may  observe  in  ourselves  faculties  fit  to  attain  as  easy  and 
certain  knowledge  of  them,  as  if  they  were  originally  imprinted 
on  the  mind. 

But  because  a  man  is  not  permitted,  without  censure,  to  follow 
his  own  thoughts  in  the  search  of  truth,  when  they  lead  him  ever 
so  little  out  of  the  common  road,  I  shall  set  down  the  reasons 
that  made  me  doubt  of  the  truth  of  that  opinion,  as  an  excuse 
for  my  mistake,  if  I  be  in  one  ;  which  I  leave  to  be  considered 
by  those,  who,  with  me,  dispose  themselves  to  embrace  truth 
wherever  they  find  it. 

§  2.    GENERAL  ASSENT,  THE  GREAT  ARGUMENT. 

There  is  nothing  more  commonly  taken  for  granted,  than  that 
there  are  cerlain  principles,  both  speculative  and  practical  (for 
they  speak  of  both)  universally  agreed  upon  by  all  mankind ; 
which  therefore,  they  argue,  must  needs  be  constant  impressions 
which  the  souls  of  men  receive  in  their  first  beings,  and  which 
they  bring  into  the  world  with  them,  as  necessarily  and  really  as 
they  do  any  of  their  inherent  faculties. 

§  3.    UNIVERSAL  CONSENT  PROVES  NOTHING  INNATE. 

This  argument,  drawn  from  universal  consent,  has  this  misfor- 
tune in  it,  that  if  it  were  true  in  matter  of  fact,  that  there  were 
Certain  truths  wherein  all  mankind  agreed,  it  would  not  provr 


€H.  II.]  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  IN  THE  MIND.  Gl 

them  innate,  if  there  can  be  any  other  way  shown  how  men  may 
come  to  that  universal  agreement  in  the  things  they  do  consent 
in ;  which  I  presume  may  be  done. 

§  4.    "  WHAT  IS,  IS,"   AND  "  IT   IS   IMPOSSIBLE  FOR  THE  SAME   THING  TO 
BE,  AND  NOT   TO    BE,"   NOT  UNIVERSALLY   ASSENTED   TO. 

But,  which  is  worse,  this  argument  of  universal  consent,  which 
is  made  use  of  to  prove  innate  principles,  seems  to  me  a  demon- 
stration that  there  are  none  such  ;  because  there  are  none  to 
which  all  mankind  give  a  universal  assent.  1  shall  begin  with 
the  speculative,  and  instance  in  those  magnified  principles  of 
demonstration;  "  whatsoever  is,  is  ;"  and,  u  it  is  impossible  for 
the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be ;"  which,  of  all  others,  1  think 
have  the  most  allowed  title  to  innate.  These  have  so  settled  a 
reputation  of  maxims  universally  received,  that  it  will  no  doubt 
be  thought  strange,  if  any  one  should  seem  to  question  it.  But 
yet  I  take  liberty  to  say,  that  these  propositions  are  so  far  from 
having  a  universal  assent,  that  there  are  a  great  part  of  mankind 
to  whom  they  are  not  so  much  as  known. 

§  5.    NOT  ON  THE  MIND  NATURALLY   IMPRINTED,    BECAUSE     NOT  KNOWN 
TO  CHILDREN,  IDIOTS,  &C. 

For,  first,  it  is  evident,  that  all  children  and  idiots  have  not  the 
least  apprehension  or  thought  of  them ;  and  the  want  of  that  is 
enough  to  destroy  that  universal  assent,  which  must  needs  be  the 
necessary  concomitant  of  all  innate  truths  :  it  seeming  to  me 
near  a  contradiction  to  say,  that  there  are  truths  imprinted  on 
the  soul,  which  it  perceives  or  understands  not ;  imprinting,  if 
it  signify  any  thing,  being  nothing  else,  but  the  making  certain 
truths  to  be  perceived.  For,  to  imprint  any  thing  on  the  mind, 
without  the  mind's  perceiving  it,  seems  to  me  hardly  intelligible. 
If  therefore  children  and  idiots  have  souls,  have  minds,  with 
those  impressions  upon  them,  they  must  unavoidably  perceive 
them,  and  necessarily  know  and  assent  to  these  truths  ;  which, 
since  they  do  not,  it  is  evident  that  there  are  no  such  impressions: 
for  if  they  are  not  notions  naturally  imprinted,  how  can  they  be 
innate  ?  and  if  they  are  notions  imprinted,  how  can  they  be 
unknown  ?  To  say  a  notion  is  imprinted  on  the  mind,  and  yet 
at  the  same  time  to  say,  that  the  mind  is  ignorant  of  it,  and  never 
yet  took  notice  of  it,  is  to  make  this  impression  nothing.  No  pro- 
position can  be  said  to  be  in  the  mind,  which  it  never  yet  knew, 
which  it  was  never  yet  conscious  of:  for  if  any  one  may,  then 
by  the  same  reason,  all  propositions  that  are  true,  and  the  mind 
is  capable  of  ever  assenting  to,  may  be  said  to  be  in  the  mind, 
and  to  be  imprinted  :  since,  if  any  one  can  be  said  to  be  in  the 
mind,  which  it  never  yet  knew,  it  must  be  only  because  it  is 
capable  of  knowing  it  5  and  so  the  mind  is  of  all  truths  it  ever 
shall  know.  Nay,  thus  truths  may  be  imprinted  on  the  mind, 
which  it  never  did,  nor  ever  shall  know  :  for  a  man  may  live 


62  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  IN  THE  MIND.  [BOOK  I, 

long,  and  die  at  last  in  ignorance  of  many  truths,  which  his  mind 
was  capable  of  knowing,  and  that  with  certainty.     So  that  if  the 
capacity  of  knowing  be  the  natural  impression  contended  for,  all 
the  truths  a  man  ever  comes  to  know,  will,  by  this  account,  be 
every  one  of  them  innate  ;  and  this  great  point  will  amount  to 
no  more,  but  only  to  a  very  improper  way  of  speaking;  which, 
whilst  it  pretends  to  assert  the  contrary,  says  nothing  different 
from  those  who  deny  innate  principles  ;  for  nobody,  I  think,  ever 
denied  that  the  mind  was  capable  of  knowing  several  truths. 
The  capacity,  they  say,  is  innate,  the  knowledge  acquired.     But 
then  to  what  end  such  contest  for  certain  innate  maxims  ?     If 
truths  can  be  imprinted    on    the  understanding  without  being 
perceived,  I  can  see  no  difference  there  can  be  between  any 
truths  the  mind  is  capable  of  knowing,  in  respect  of  their  origi- 
nal :  they  must  all  be  innate,  or  all  adventitious  :  in  vain  shall  a 
man  go  about  to  distinguish  them.     He,  therefore,  that  talks  of 
innate  notions  in  the  understanding,  cannot  (if  he  intend  thereby 
any  distinct  sort  of  truths)  mean  such  truths  to  be  in  the  under- 
standing, as  it  never  perceived,  and  is  yet  wholly  ignorant  of: 
for  if  these  words  (to  be  in  the  understanding)  have  any  pro- 
priety, they  signify  to  be   understood  :    so   that,   to  be   in  the 
understanding,  and  not  to  be  understood — to  be  in  the  mind,  and 
never  to  be  perceived — is  all  one,  as  to  say,  any  thing  is,  and  is  not, 
in  the  mind  or  understanding.     If  therefore  these  two  proposi- 
tions, "  whatsoever  is,  is,"  and  "  it  is  impossible  for  the  same 
thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be,1'  are   by  nature  imprinted,  children 
cannot  be   ignorant  of  them ;  infants,  and  all   that  have  souls, 
must  necessarily  have  them  in  their  understandings,  know  the 
truth  of  them,  and  assent  to  it. 

§  6.    THAT  MEN  KNOW  THEM  WHEN  THEY  COME  TO  THE  USE  OF  REASON, 

ANSWERED. 

To  avoid  this,  it  is  usually  answered,  That  all  men  know  and 
assent  to  them,  when  they  come  to  the  use  of  reason,  and  this  is 
enough  to  prove  them  innate.     I  answer, 

§7. 
Doubtful  expressions,  that  have  scarce  any  signification,  go  for 
clear  reasons  to  those,  who,  being  prepossessed,  take  not  the 
pains  to  examine  even  what  they  themselves  say.  For  to  apply 
this  answer  with  any  tolerable  sense  to  our  present  purpose,  it 
must  signify  one  of  these  two  things  :  either,  that  as  soon  as  men 
come  to  the  use  of  reason,  these  supposed  native  inscriptions 
come  to  be  known  and  observed  by  them ;  or  else,  that  the  use 
and  exercise  of  men's  reason  assists  them  in  the  discovery  of 
these  principles,  and  certainly  makes  them  known  to  them. 


CH.  II.]  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  IN  THE  MIND.  63 

§  8.    IF  REASON   DISCOVERED    THEM,  THAT  WOULD    NOT  PROVE  THEM 

INNATE. 

If  they  mean,  that  by  the  use  of  reason  men  may  discover 
these  principles,  and  that  this  is  sufficient  to  prove  them  innate; 
their  way  of  arguing  will  stand  thus  :  viz.  that  whatever  truths 
reason  can  certainly  discover  to  us,  and  make  us  firmly  assent  to, 
those  are  all  naturally  imprinted  on  the  mind  ;  since  that  univer- 
sal assent,  which  is  made  the  mark  of  them,  amounts  to  no  more 
but  this ;  that  by  the  use  of  reason  we  are  capable  to  come  to  a 
certain  knowledge  of,  and  assent  to  them  ;  and,  by  this  means, 
there  will  be  no  difference  between  the  maxims  of  the  mathema- 
ticians, and  theorems  they  deduce  from  them :  all  must  be 
equally  allowed  innate  ;  they  being  all  discoveries  made  by  the 
use  of  reason,  and  truths  that  a  rational  creature  may  certainly 
come  to  know,  if  he  apply  his  thoughts  rightly  that  way. 

§9.    IT  IS  FALSE  THAT  REASON  DISCOVERS  THEM. 

But  how  can  these  men  think  the  use  of  reason  necessary  to 
discover  principles  that  are  supposed  innate,  when  reason,  (if  we 
may  believe  them)  is  nothing  else  but  the  faculty  of  deducing 
unknown  truths  from  principles,  or  propositions,  that  are  already 
known  ?  That  certainly  can  never  be  thought  innate,  which  we 
have  need  of  reason  to  discover;  unless,  as  I  have  said,  we  will 
have  all  the  certain  truths  that  reason  ever  teaches  us  to  be  innate. 
We  may  as  well  think  the  use  of  reason  necessary  to  make  our 
eyes  discover  visible  objects,  as  that  there  should  be  need  of  rea- 
son, or  the  exercise  thereof,  to  make  the  understanding  see  what 
is  originally  engraven  on  it,  and  cannot  be  in  the  understanding, 
before  it  be  perceived  by  it.  So  that  to  make  reason  discover 
those  truths  thus  imprinted,  is  to  say,  that  the  use  of  reason 
discovers  to  a  man  what  he  knew  before  ;  and  if  men  have  those 
innate  impressed  truths  originally  and  before  the  use  of  reason, 
and  yet  are  always  ignorant  of  them,  till  they  come  to  the  use  of 
reason  ;  it  is  in  effect  to  say,  that  men  know  and  know  them  not 
at  the  same  time. 

§  io. 

It  will  here  perhaps  be  said,  that  mathematical  demonstration- 
and  other  truths  that  are  not  innate,  are  not  assented  to  as  soon 
as  proposed,  wherein  they  are  distinguished  from  these  maxims, 
and  other  innate  truths.  1  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  of  assent 
upon  the  first  proposing,  more  particularly  by  and  by.  I  shall 
here  only,  and  that  very  readily,  allow,  that  these  maxims  and 
mathematical  demonstrations  are  in  this  different;  that  the  one 
have  need  of  reason,  using  of  proofs,  to  make  them  out,  and  to 
gain  our  assent;  but  the  other,  as  soon  as  understood,  are,  without 
any  the  least  reasoning,  embraced  and  assented  to.  But  I  withal 
beg  leave  to  observe,  that  it  lays  open  the  weakness  of  this  sub- 


64  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  IN  THE  MIND.  [BOOK  I. 

terfuge,  which  requires  the  use  of  reason  for  the  discovery  of 
these  general  truths  ;  since  it  must  be  confessed  that  in  their 
discovery  there  is  no  use  made  of  reasoning  at  all.  And  I  think 
those  who  give  this  answer  will  not  be  forward  to  affirm,  that  the 
knowledge  of  this  maxim,  "  That  it  is  impossible  for  the  same 
thing  to  be.  and  not  to  be,1'  is  a  deduction  of  our  reason  ;  for  this 
would  be  to  destroy  that  bounty  of  nature  they  seem  so  fond  of, 
whilst  they  make  the  knowledge  of  those  principles  to  depend  on 
the  labour  of  our  thoughts.  For  all  reasoning  is  search,  and 
casting  about,  and  requires  pains  and  application ;  and  how  can  it, 
with  any  tolerable  sense,  be  supposed,  that  what  was  imprinted  by 
nature,  as  the  foundation  and  guide  of  our  reason,  should  need 
the  use  of  reason  to  discover  it  ? 

§11. 
Those  who  will  take  the  pains  to  reflect  with  a  little  attention 
on  the  operations  of  the  understanding,  will  find,  that  this  ready 
assent  of  the  mind  to  some  truths  depends  not  either  on  native 
inscription,  or  on  the  use  of  reason  ;  but  on  a  faculty  of  the  mind 
quite  distinct  from  both  of  them,  as  we  shall  see  hereafter. 
Reason,  therefore,  having  nothing  to  do  in  procuring  our  assent 
to  these  maxims,  if  by  saying  that  men  know  and  assent  to  them 
when  they  come  to  the  use  of  reason,  be  meant,  that  the  use  of 
reason  assists  us  in  the  knowledge  of  these  maxims,  it  is  utterly 
false  ;  and  were  it  true,  would  prove  them  not  to  be  innate. 

§  12.    THE  COMING  TO   THE  USE  OF  REASON,   NOT  THE  TIME  WE  COME  TO 
KNOW  THESE   MAXIMS. 

If  by  knowing  and  assenting  to  them,  when  we  come  to  the 
use  of  reason,  be  meant,  that  this  is  the  time  when  they  come  to 
be  taken  notice  of  by  the  mind  5  and  that,  as  soon  as  chil- 
dren come  to  the  use  of  reason,  they  come  also  to  know 
and  assent  to  these  maxims ;  this  also  is  false  and  frivolous. 
First,  it  is  false  :  because  it  is  evident  these  maxims  are  not 
in  the  mind  so  early  as  the  use  of  reason,  and  therefore  the 
coming  to  the  use  of  reason  is  falsely  assigned  as  the  time  of  their 
discovery.  How  many  instances  of  the  use  of  reason  may  we 
observe  in  children,  a  long  time  before  they  have  any  knowledge 
of  this  maxim,  "  That  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be, 
and  not  to  be  ?"  And  a  great  part  of  illiterate  people,  and  sava- 
ges, pass  many  years  even  of  their  rational  age,  without  ever 
thinking  on  this,  and  the  like  general  propositions.  I  grant,  men 
come  not  to  the  knowledge  of  these  general  and  more  abstract 
truths,  which  are  thought  innate,  till  they  come  to  the  use  of  rea- 
son ;  and  I  add,  nor  then  neither  :  which  is  so,  because,  till  after 
they  come  to  the  use  of  reason,  those  general  abstract  ideas  are 
not  framed  in  the  mind,  about  which  those  general  maxims  are, 
which  are  mistaken  for  innate  principles :  but  are  indeed  disco- 


•CH.  II.J  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  IN  THE  .MIND.  G5 

veries  made,  and  verities  introduced  and  brought  into  the  mind, 
by  the  same  way,  and  discovered  by  the  same  steps,  as  several 
other  propositions,  which  nobody  was  ever  so  extravagant  as  to 
suppose  innate.  This  I  hope  to  make  plain  in  the  sequel  of  this 
discourse.  I  allow  therefore  a  necessity  that  men  should  come 
to  the  use  of  reason  before  they  get  the  knowledge  of  those 
general  truths,  but  deny  that  men's  coming  to  the  use  of  reason 
is  the  time  of  their  discovery. 

§   13.    BY  THrS  THEY  ARE  NOT  DISTINGUISHED  FROM  OTHER  KNOWABLF. 

TRUTHS. 

In  the  mean  time  it  is  observable,  that  this  saying,  That  men 
know  and  assent  to  these  maxims  when  they  come  to  the  use  of 
reason,  amounts,  in  reality  of  fact,  to  no  more  but  this,  That  they 
are  never  known  nor  taken  notice  of,  before  the  use  of  reason, 
but  may  possibly  be  assented  to,  $omc  time  after,  during  a  man's 
life,  but  when  is  uncertain  ;  and  so  may  all  other  knowable 
truths,  as  well  as  these  ;  which  therefore  have  no  advantage  nor 
distinction  from  others,  by  this  note  of  being  known  when  we 
come  to  the  use  of  reason,  nor  are  thereby  proved  to  be  innate, 
but  quite  the  contrary. 

§   14.    IF  COMING  TO  THE  USE  OF    REASON  WERE  THE  TIME  OF  THEIR 
DISCOVERY,  IT  WOULD   NOT   PROVE   THEM  INNATE. 

But,  secondly,  were  it  true  that  the  precise  time  of  their  being 
known  and  assented  to  were  when  men  come  to  the  use  of  rea- 
son, neither  would  that  prove  them  innate.  This  way  of  arguing 
is  as  frivolous  as  the  supposition  of  itself  is  false.  For  by  what 
kind  of  logic  will  it  appear,  that  any  notion  is  originally  by 
nature  imprinted  in  the  mind  in  its  first  constitution,  because  it 
comes  first  to  be  observed  and  assented  to,  when  a  faculty  of 
the  mind,  which  has  quite  a  distinct  province,  begins  to  exert, 
itself?  And  therefore,  the  coming  to  the  use  of  speech,  if  it 
were  supposed  the  time  that  these  maxims  are  first  assented  to, 
(which  it  may  be  with  as  much  truth  as  the  time  when  men  come 
to  the  use  of  reason)  would  be  as  good  a  proof  that  they  were 
innate,  as  to  say,  they  are  innate,  because  men  assent  to  them 
when  they  come  to  the  use  of  reason.  I  agree  then  with  these 
men  of  innate  principles,  that  there  is  no  knowledge  of  these 
general  and  self-evident  maxims  in  the  mind,  till  it  comes  to  the 
exercise  of  reason  ;  but  I  deny  that  the  coming  to  the  use  of 
reason  is  the  precise  lime  when  they  are  first  taken  notice  of; 
and  if  that  were  the  precise  time,  I  deny  that  it  would  prove 
them  innate.  All  that  can,  with  any  truth,  be  meant  by  I  In- 
proposition,  that  men  assent  to  them  when  they  come  to  the  use 
of  reason,  is  no  more  but  this ;  that  the  making  of  general  ab- 
stract ideas,  and  the  understanding  of  general  names,  being  a 
concomitant  of  the  rational  faculty,  and  growing  up  wilh  it.  chil- 

Voi     I  o 


[';t;  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  IN  THE  MIND.  [BOOK  1. 

drcn  commonly  get  not  those  general  ideas,  nor  learn  the  names 
that  stand  for  them,  till,  having  for  a  good  while  exercised  their 
reason  about  familiar  and  more  particular  ideas,  they  are,  by 
their  ordinary  discourse  and  actions  with  others,  acknowledged 
to  be  capable  of  rational  conversation.  If  assenting  to  these 
maxims,  when  men  come  to  the  use  of  reason,  can  be  true  in  any 
other  sense,  I  desire  it  may  be  shown,  or  at  least,  how  in  this, 
or  any  other  sense,  it  proves  them  innate. 

§   15.  THE  STEPS  BY  WHICH  THE  MIND  ATTAINS  SEVERAL  TRUTHS. 

The  senses  at  first  let  in  particular  ideas,  and  furnish  the  yet 
empty  cabinet ;  and  the  mind  by  degrees  growing  familiar  with 
some  of  them,  they  arc  lodged  in  the  memory,  and  names  got  to 
them  :  afterward  the  mind,  proceeding  farther,  abstracts  them, 
and  by  degrees  learns  the  use  of  general  names.  In  this  manner, 
the  mind  comes  to  be  furnished  with  ideas  and  language,  the 
materials  about  which  to  exercise  its  discursive  faculty  ;  and  the: 
use  of  reason  becomes  daily  more  visible,  as  these  materials  that 
give  it  employment  increase.  But  though  the  having  of  generoi 
Tdeas,  and  the  use  of  general  words  and  reason,  usually  grow 
together,  yet,  I  see  not  how  this  any  way  proves  them  innate. 
The  knowledge  of  some  truths,  I  confess,  is  very  early  in  the 
mind,  but  in  a  way  that  shows  them  not  to  be  innate.  For,  if 
we  will  observe,  we  shall  find  it  still  to  be  about  ideas,  not  innate, 
but  acquired  ;  it  being  about  those  first  which  are  imprinted  by 
external  things,  with  which  infants  have  earliest  to  do,  which 
make  the  most  frequent  impressions  on  their  senses.  In  ideas 
thus  got,  the  mind  discovers  that  some  agree  and  others  differ, 
probably  as  soon  as  it  has  any  use  of  memory ;  as  soon  as  it  is 
able  to  retain  and  perceive  distinct  ideas.  But  whether  it  be 
then,  or  no,  this  is  certain  ;  it  docs  so  long  before  it  has  the  use 
of  words,  or  comes  to  that,  which  we  commonly  call  "  the  use  of 
reason.*'  For  a  child  knows  as  certainly,  before  it  can  speak,  the 
difference  between  the  ideas  of  sweet  and  bitter  (?'.  e.  that  sweet 
is  not  bitter)  as  it  knows  afterward  (when  it  comes  to  speak 
lhat  wormwood  and  sugar  plums  are  not  the  same  thing. 

A  child  knows  not  that  three  and  four  are  equal  to  seven,  till 
he  comes  to  be  able  to  count  seven,  and  has  got  the  name  and 
idea  of  equality ;  and  then,  upon  explaining  those  words,  he  pre- 
sently assents  to,  or  rather  perceives  the  truth  of,  that  proposi- 
tion. But  neither  does  he  then  readily  assent,  because  it  is  an 
innate  truth,  nor  was  his  assent  wanting  till  then,  because  h'^ 
wanted  the  use  of  reason  ;  but  the  truth  of  it  appears  to  him,  as 
soon  as  he  has  settled  in  his  mind  the  clear  and  distinct  ideas  that 
these  names  stand  for;  and  then  he  knows  the  truth  of  that  pro- 
position, upon  the  same  grounds,  and  by  the  same  means,  that  he 
lenew before  that  a  rod  and  a  cherrvare  not  the  same  thing;  and 


■11.  II.J  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  IN  THE  >U.\t».  ti7 

upon  the  same  grounds  also,  that  he  may  come  to  know  after- 
ward, "  that  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to 
be,"  as  shall  be  more  fully  shown  hereafter.  So  that  the  later  it 
is  before  any  one  comes  to  have  those  general  ideas,  about  which 
those  maxims  are  ;  or  to  know  the  signification  of  those  general 
lerms  that  stand  for  them  ;  or  to  put  together  in  his  mind  the 
ideas  they  stand  for  ;  the  later  also  will  it  be  before  he  comes  to 
assent  to  those  maxims,  whose  terms,  with  the  ideas  they  stand 
for,  being  no  more  innate  than  those  of  a  cat  or  a  weasel,  he  must 
stay  till  time  and  observation  have  acquainted  him  with  them  ; 
and  then  he  will  be  in  a  capacity  to  know  the  truth  of  these 
maxims,  upon  the  first  occasion  that  shall  make  him  put  together 
those  ideas  in  his  mind,  and  observe  whether  they  agree  or  disa- 
gree, according  as  is  expressed  in  those  propositions.  And  there- 
fore it  is,  that  a  man  knows  that  eighteen  and  nineteen  are  equal 
to  thirty-seven,  by  the  same  self-evidence  that  he  knows  one  and 
two  to  be  equal  to  three ;  yet  a  child  knows  this  not  so  soon  as 
the  other,  not  for  want  of  the  use  of  reason,  but  because  the 
ideas  the  words  eighteen,  nineteen,  and  thirty- seven  stand  for, 
are  not  so  soon  got,  as  those  which  are  signified  by  one,  two,  and 
three.  « 

§   17.    ASSENTING   AS  SOON  AS  PROPOSED  AND   CNDERSTOOD.   PROVES 
THEM   NOT    INNATE. 

This  evasion  therefore  of  general  assent,  when  men  come  to 
'ihe  use  of  reason,  failing  as  it  does,  and  leaving  no  difference 
between  those  supposed  innate,  and  other  truths  that  are  after- 
ward acquired  and  learnt,  men  have  endeavoured  to  secure  a 
universal  assent  to  those  they  call  maxima,  by  saying,  they  are 
generally  assented  to  as  soon  as  proposed,  and  the  terms  they  are 
proposed  in,  understood  :  seeing  all  men,  even  children,  as  soon 
as  they  hear  and  understand  the  terms,  assent  to  these  proposi- 
tions, they  think  it  is  sufficient  to  prove  them  innate.  For  since 
men  never  fail,  after  they  have  once  understood  the  words,  to 
acknowledge  them  for  undoubted  truths  they  would  infer,  that 
certainly  these  propositions  were  first  lodged  in  the  understand- 
ing, which,  without  any  teaching,  the  mind,  at  the  very  first  pro- 
posal, immediately  closes  with,  and  assents  to,  and  after  that  never 
doubts  again. 

§  18.  IF  HVC.U  A.\  ASSENT  LE  A  MARK  OF  l.W  V  l  E,  THEN  "  THAT  ONE  AN7> 
TWO  ARE  EQUAL  SO  THREE,  THAT  SWEETNESS  IS  NOT  BITTERNESS," 
AND  A  THOUSAND  THE  LIKE,  ML'ST  BE   [INNATE. 

In  answer  to  this,  I  demand  '•  whether  ready  assent  given  to  a. 
proposition  upon  first  hearing,  and  understanding  the  terms,  be  a 
certain  mark  of  an  innate  principle  ?"  If  it  be  not,  such  a  gene- 
•  tl  assent  is  in  vain  urged  as  a  proof  of  them  :  if  it  be  said,  that 
it  is  a  mark  of  innate,  they  must  then  allow  all  such  proposition^- 
o  be  innate  which  are  generally  assented  t<">  as  soon  as  beard. 


68  N'Ql  INNATE  I'KlM-ll'LES  IN  T«E  MIND.  [BOOK  I. 

whereby  they  will  find  themselves  plentifully  stored  with  innate 
principles.     For  upon  the  same  ground,  viz.  of  ascent  at  first 
hearing  and  understanding  the  terms,  that  men  would  have  those 
maxims  pass  for  innate,  they  must  also  admit  several  proposition? 
about  numbers  to  be  innate ;  and  thus,   that  one  and  two  are 
equal  to  three  ;  that  two  and  two  are  equal  to  four ;  and  a  mul- 
titude of  other  the  like  propositions  in  numbers,  that  every  body 
assents  to  at  first  hearing  and  understanding  the  terms,  must  have 
a  place  among  these  innate  axioms.     Nor  is  this  the  prerogative 
of  numbers  alone,  and  propositions  made  about  several  of  them; 
but  even  natural  philosophy  and  all  the  other  sciences,  afford 
propositions  which  are  sure  to  meet  with  assent  as  soon  as  they 
are  understood.     That  two  bodies  cannot  be  in  the  same  place, 
is  a  truth  that  nobody  any  more  sticks  at,  than  at  these  maxims, 
that  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be  ;  that 
white  is  not  black  ;  that  a  square  is  not  a  circle ;  that  yellowness 
is  not  sweetness :"  these,  and  a  million  of  other  such  proposi- 
tions,  (as  many  at  least  as  we  have  distinct  ideas  of)  every  man 
in  his  wits,  at  first  hearing,  and  knowing  what  the  names  stand 
for,  must  necessarily  assent  to.     If  these  men  will  be  true  to 
their  own  rule,  and  have  assent  at  first  hearing  and  understanding 
the  terms  to  be  a  mark  of  innate,  they  must  allow,  not  only  as 
many  innate  propositions  as  men  have  distinct  ideas,  but  as  many 
as   men    can    make    propositions,  wherein    different  ideas  are 
denied  one  of  another.     Since  every  proposition,  wherein  one 
different  idea  is  denied  of  another,  will  as  certainly  find  assent  ai 
first  hearing  and  understanding  the  terms,  as  this  general  one, 
"  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be;"  or 
that  which  is  the  foundation  of  it,  and  is  the  easier  understood  ot 
the  two,  "the  same  is  not  different:"  by  which  account  they 
will  have  legions  of  innate  propositions  of  this  one  sort,  without 
mentioning  any  other.     But  since  no  proposition  can  be  innate, 
unless  the  ideas,  about  which  it  is,  be  innate;  this  will  be,  to 
suppose  all  our   ideas  of  colours,  sounds,  taste,  figure,  &c.  in- 
nate, than  which  there  cannot  be  any  thing  more  opposite  to 
reason  and  experience.     Universal  and  ready  assent,  upon  hear- 
ing and  understanding  the  terms,  is,  (1  grant)  a  mark  of  self- 
evidence  ;  but  self-evidence,   depending  not  on  innate  impres- 
sions, but  on  something  else  (as  we  shall  show  hereafter,)  belongs 
to  several  propositions,  which  nobody  was  yet  so  extravagant  as 
to  pretend  to  be  innate. 

§   19.    SUCH  LESS  GENERAL  PROPOSITIONS  KNOWN  EEFORE  THESE 
UNIVERSAL  MAXIMS. 

Nor  let  it  be  said,  that  those  more  particular  self-evident  pro- 
positions, which  are  assented  to  at  first  hearing,  as,  that  one  and 
two  are  equal  to  three  ;  that  green  is  not  red,  &c. ;  are  received 
as  the  consequences  of  (hose  more  universal  propositions,  which 
are  looked  on  as  innate  principles  :  since  any  one,  who  wiU  bid 


OH.  II.]  XO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  IX  THE  M1NU.  69 

take  the  pains  to  observe  what  passes  in  the  understanding,  will 
certainly  find,  that  these,  and  the  like  less  general  propositions, 
are  certainly  known,  and  firmly  assented  to,  by  those  who  are 
utterly  ignorant  of  those  more  general  maxims  ;  and  so,  beinu 
earlier  in  the  mind  than  those  (as  they  are  called)  first  principles, 
cannot  owe  to  them  the  assent  wherewith  they  are  received  at 
first  hearing. 

<3  20.  ONE  AND  ONE  EQUAL  TO  TWO,  &C.  NOT  GENERAL  NOR  USEI  L  !  . 

ANSWERED. 

If  it  be  said,  that  "  these  propositions,  viz.  two  and  two  are 
equal  to  four ;  red  is  not  blue,  &c.  are  not  general  maxims, 
nor  of  any  great  use  ;"  I  answer,  that  makes  nothing  to  the  ar- 
gument of  universal  assent,  upon  hearing  and  understanding : 
for,  if  that  be  the  certain  mark  of  innate,  whatever  proposition 
can  be  found  that  receives  general  assent  as  soon  as  heard  and 
understood,  that  must  be  admitted  for  an  innate  proposition,  as 
well  as  this  maxim,  "  that  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to 
be,  and  not  to  be  ;"  they  being  upon  this  ground  equal.  And 
as  to  the  difference  of  being  more  general,  that  makes  this  maxim 
more  remote  from  being  innate  ;  those  general  and  abstract  ideas 
being  more  strangers  to  our  first  apprehensions,  than  those  of 
more  particular  self-evident  propositions,  and  therefore  it  is 
longer  before  they  are  admitted  and  assented  to  by  the  growing 
understanding.  And  as  to  the  usefulness  of  these  magnified 
maxims,  that  perhaps  will  not  be  found  so  great  as  is  generaliy 
conceived,  when  it  comes  in  its  due  place  to  be  more  fully  con- 
sidered. 

§  21.    THESE  MAXIMS  NOT  BEING  KNOWN  SOMETIMES  TILL  PK0POS     I 
PROVES  THEM  NOT  INNATE. 

But  we  have  not  yet  done  with  assenting  to  propositions  at 
first  hearing  and  understanding  their  terms ;  it  is  fit  we  first  tak 
notice,  that  this,  instead  of  being  a  mark  that  they  arc  innate, 
is  a  proof  of  the  contrary  ;  since  it  supposes  that  several,  who 
understand  and  know  other  things,  are  ignorant  of  these  princi- 
ples, till  they  are  proposed  to  them ;  and  that  one  may  be  unac- 
quainted with  these  truths,  till  he  hears  them  from  others.  For 
if  they  were  innate,  what  need  they  be  proposed  in  order  to 
gaining  assent ;  when,  by  being  in  the  understanding,  by  a  natu- 
ral and  original  impression,  (if  there  were  any  such)  they  could 
not  but  be  known  before  ?  Or  doth  the  proposing  them  print 
them  clearer  in  the  mind  than  nature  did  ?  If  so,  then  the  con- 
sequence will  be,  that  a  man  knows  them  better  after  he  has 
been  thus  taught  them  than  he  did  before.  Whence  it  will 
follow,  that  these  principles  may  be  made  more  evident  to  u;^ 
by  others'  teaching,  than  nature  has  made  them  by  impression  ; 
which  will  ill  agree  with  the  opinion  of  innate  principles,  and 
•4;iv<*  but  little  authority  to  them;  but,  on  the  contrary,  makes 


70  l\0  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  IN  THE  MIND.  [BOOK  I. 

them  unfit  to  be  the  foundations  of  all  our  other  knowledge,  as 
they  are  pretended  to  be.  This  cannot  be  denied ;  that  men 
grow  first  acquainted  with  many  of  these  self-evident  truths, 
upon  their  being  proposed  ;  but  it  is  clear,  that  whosoever  does 
so,  finds  in  himself  that  he  then  begins  to  know  a  proposition 
which  he  knew  not  before,  and  which,  from  thenceforth,  he 
never  questions  ;  not  because  it  was  innate,  but  because  the 
consideration  of  the  nature  of  the  things  contained  in  those 
words,  would  not  suffer  him  to  think  otherwise,  how  or  whenso- 
ever he  is  brought  to  reflect  on  them :  and  if  whatever  is  assent- 
ed to,  at  first  hearing  and  understanding  the  terms,  must  pass 
for  an  innate  principle,  every  well-grounded  observation,  drawn 
from  particulars  into  a  general  rule,  must  be  innate ;  when  yet 
it  is  certain,  that  not  all,  but  only  sagacious  heads,  light  at  first 
on  these  observations,  and  reduce  them  into  general  propositions, 
not  innate,  but  collected  from  a  preceding  acquaintance,  and 
reflection  on  particular  instances.  These,  when  observing  men 
have  made  them,  unobserving  men,  when  they  are  proposed  to 
them,  cannot  refuse  their  assent  to. 

§  22.  IMPLICITLY  KNOWN  BEFORE  PROPOSING,  SIGNIFIES,  THAT  THF. 
MIND  IS  CAPABLE  OF  UNDERSTANDING  THEM,  OR  ELSE  SIGNIFIES 
NOTHING. 

If  it  be  said,  "  the  understanding  hath  an  implicit  knowledge 
of  these  principles,  but  not  an  explicit,  before  this  first  hear- 
ing," (as  they  must,  who  will  say,  "  that  they  are  in  the  under- 
standing before  they  are  known")  it  will  be  hard  to  conceive 
what  is  meant  by  a  principle  imprinted  on  the  understanding 
implicitly,  unless  it  be  this ;  that  the  mind  is  capable  of  under- 
standing and  assenting  firmly  to  such  propositions.  And  thus  all 
mathematical  demonstrations,  as  well  as  first  principles,  must  he 
received  as  native  impressions  on  the  mind ;  which  I  fear  they 
will  scarce  allow  them  to  be,  who  find  it  harder  to  demonstrate 
a  proposition,  than  assent  to  it  when  demonstrated.  And  few 
mathematicians  will  be  forward  to  believe,  that  all  the  diagrams 
they  have  drawn  were  but  copies  of  those  innate  characters 
which  nature  had  engraven  upon  their  minds. 

<$  23.    THE  ARGUMENT  OF  ASSENTING  ON  FIRST  HEARING,  IS  UPON  A 
FALSE  SUPPOSITION  OF  NO  PRECEDENT  TEACHING. 

There  is,  I  fear,  this  farther  weakness  in  the  foregoing  argu- 
ment, which  would  persuade  us,  that  therefore  those  maxims 
are  to  be  thought  innate,  which  men  admit  at  first  hearing  be- 
cause  they  assent  to  propositions,  which  they  are  not  taught 
nor  do  receive  from  the  force  of  any  argument  or  demonstration. 
but  a  bare  explication  or  understanding  of  the  terms.  Under 
which,  there  seems  to  me  to  lie  this  fallacy  ;  that  men  are  sup- 
pbsed  not  to  be  taught,  nor  to  learn  any  thing  de  novo :  when 


CH.  II. j  XO  ix.yate  pr^xiples  in*  the  hind. 

in  truth,  they  arc  taught,  and  do  learn  something  they  were  igno- 
rant of  before.  For  first,  it  is  evident,  that  they  have  learned 
the  terms  and  their  signification,  neither  of  which  was  born 
with  them.  But  this  is  not  all  the  acquired  knowledge  in  the 
case  :  the  ideas  themselves,  about  which  the  proposition  is,  are 
not  born  with  them,  no  more  than  their  names,  but  got  after- 
ward. So  that  in  all  propositions  that  are  assented  to  at  first, 
hearing,  the  terms  of  the  proposition,  their  standing  for  such 
ideas,  and  the  ideas  themselves  that  they  stand  for,  being  neither 
of  them  innate,  I  would  fain  know  what  there  is  remaining  in 
such  propositions  that  is  innate.  For  I  would  gladly  have  any- 
one name  that  proposition,  whose  terms  or  ideas  were  either  of 
them  innate.  We  by  degrees  get  ideas  and  names,  and  learn 
their  appropriated  connexion  one  with  another;  and  then  to  pro- 
positions made  in  such  terms,  whose  signification  we  have  learnt, 
and  wherein  the  agreement  or  disagreement  we  can  perceive  in 
our  ideas,  when  put  together,  is  expressed,  we  at  first  hearing 
assent  •  though  to  other  propositions,  in  themselves  as  certain 
and  evident,  but  which  are  concerning  ideas  not  so  soon  or  so 
easily  got,  we  are  at  the  same  time  noway  capable  of  assenting. 
For  though  a  child  quickly  assents  to  this  proposition,  "  that  an 
apple  is  not  fire,"  when,  by  familiar  acquaintance,  he  has  got 
the  ideas  of  those  two  different  things  distinctly  imprinted  on  his 
mind,  and  has  learnt  that  the  names  apple  and  fire  stand  for 
them ;  yet,  it  will  be  some  years  after,  perhaps,  before  the 
same  child  will  assent  to  this  proposition,  "  that  it  is  impossible 
for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be  ;"  because,  that  though, 
perhaps,  the  words  are  as  easy  to  be  learnt,  yet  the  signification 
of  them  being  more  large,  comprehensive,  and  abstract,  than  of 
1he  names  annexed  to  those  sensible  things  the  child  hath  to  do 
with,  it  is  longer  before  he  learns  their  precise  meaning,  and  it 
requires  more  time  plainly  to  form  in  his  mind  those  general 
ideas  they  stand  for.  Till  that  be  done,  you  will  in  vain  endea- 
vour to  make  any  child  assent  to  a  proposition  made  up  of  such 
general  terms  :  but  as  soon  as  ever  he  has  got  those  ideas,  and 
learned  their  names,  he  forwardly  closes  with  the  one  as  well  as 
the  other  of  the  fore-mentioned  propositions,  and  with  both  for 
the  same  reason  ;  viz.  because  he  finds  the  ideas  he  has  in  his 
mind  to  agree  or  disagree,  according  as  the  words  standing  for 
ihem  are  affirmed  or  denied  one  of  another  in  the  proposition. 
Hut  if  propositions  be  brought  to  him  in  words,  which  stand  for 
ideas  he  has  not  yet  in  his  mind  •  to  such  propositions,  however 
evidently  true  or  false  in  themselves,  he  affords  neither  assent  nor 
dissent;  but  is  ignorant:  for  words  being  birt  empty  sounds,  any 
farther  than  they  are  signs  of  our  ideas,  we  cannot  but  assent  to 
them,  as  they  correspond  to  those  ideas  we  have,  but  no  farther 
than  that.  But  the  showing  by  what  steps  and  ways  knowledge 
comes  into  our  minds,  and  the  grounds  of  several  degrees  of  as- 
sent,  beinor  the  business  of  the  following  discourse,  it  may  suffice 


72  NO  TNNATE  PRINCIPLES  INTHE  MIND.  [BOOK  t. 

to  have  only  touched  on  it  here,  as  one  reason  that  made  mc 
doubt  of  those  innate  principles. 

§  24.  NOT  INNATE,  BECAUSE  NOT  UNIVERSALLY  ASSENTED  TO. 

To  conclude  this  argument  of  universal  consent,  I  agree,  with 
these  defenders  of  innate  principles,  that  if  they  are  innate,  they 
must  needs  have  universal  assent ;  for  that  a  truth  should  be 
innate,  and  yet  not  assented  to,  is  to  me  as  unintelligible,  as  for  a 
man  to  know  a  truth,  and  be  ignorant  of  it  at  the  same  time. 
But  then,  by  these  men's  own  confession,  they  cannot  be  innate  ; 
since  they  are  not  assented  to  by  those  who  understand  not  the 
terms,  nor  by  a  great  part  of  those  who  do  understand  them,  but 
have  yet  never  heard  nor  thought  of  those  propositions  ;  which, 
I  think,  is  at  least  one  half  of  mankind.  But  were  the  number 
for  less,  it  would  be  enough  to  destroy  universal  assent,  and 
thereby  show  these  propositions  not  to  be  innate,  if  children  alone 
were  ignorant  of  them. 

<}  25.    THESE  MAXIMS  NOT  THE  FIRST  KNOWN. 

But  that  1  may  not  be  accused  to  argue  from  the  thoughts  of 
infants,  which  are  unknown  to  us,  and  to  conclude  from  what 
passes  in  their  understandings  before  they  express  it ;  I  say  next, 
that  these  two  general  propositions  are  not  the  truths  that  first 
possess  the  minds  of  children,  nor  are  antecedent  to  all  acquired 
and  adventitious  notions  :  which,  if  they  were  innate,  they  must 
needs  be.  Whether  we  can  determine  it  or  not,  it  matters  not ; 
there  is  certainly  a  time  when  children  begin  to  think,  and  their 
words  and  actions  do  assure  us  that  they  do  so.  When  therefore 
they  are  capable  of  thought,  of  knowledge,  of  assent,  can  it 
rationally  be  supposed  they  can  be  ignorant  of  those  notions  that 
nature  has  imprinted,  were  there  any  such  ?  Can  it  be  imagined 
with  any  appearance  of  reason,  that  they  perceive  the  impres- 
sions from  things  without,  and  be  at  the  same  time  ignorant  of 
those  characters  which  nature  itself  has  taken  care  to  stamp 
within  ?  Can  they  receive  and  assent  to  adventitious  notions, 
and  be  ignorant  of  those  which  are  supposed  woven  into  the 
very  principles  of  their  being,  and  imprinted  there  in  indelible 
characters,  to  be  the  foundation  and  guide  of  all  their  acquired 
knowledge  and  future  reasonings  ?  This  would  be  to  make  nature 
take  pains  to  no  purpose,  or  at  least,  to  write  very  ill ;  since  its 
characters  could  not  be  read  by  those  eyes  which  saw  other 
things  very  well ;  and  those  are  very  ill  supposed  the  clearest 
parts  of  truth,  and  the  foundations  of  all  our  knowledge,  which 
are  not  first  known,  and  without  which  the  undoubted  know- 
ledge of  several  other  things  may  be  had.  The  child  cer- 
tainly knows  that  the  nurse  that  feeds  it  is  neither  the  cat  it 
plays  with,  nor  the  blackamoor  it  is  afraid  of;  that  the  wormseed 
or  mustard  it  refuses  is  not  the  apple  or  sugar  it  cries  for  ;  this  it 
is  certainlv  and  undoubtodlv  assured  of:  but  will  anv  one  sav.  v 


OH.  II.]  \<J  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  IN  THK  MINI).  J  3 

is  by  virtue  of  this  principle,  "  that  it  is  impossible  for  the  same 
thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be,"  that  it  so  firmly  assents  to  these  and 
other  parts  of  its  knowledge  ;  or  that  the  child  has  any  notion  or 
apprehension  of  that  proposition,  at  an  age,  wherein  yet,  it  is 
plain,  it  knows  a  great  many  other  truths  ?  He  that  will  say, 
children  join  these  general  abstract  speculations  with  their  sucking 
bottles,  and  their  rattles,  may,  perhaps,  with  justice,  be  thought 
to  have  more  passion  and  zeal  for  his  opinion,  but  less  sincerity 
and  truth,  than  one  of  that  age. 

§26.    AND  SO  NOT  IfSNATE. 

Though  therefore  there  be  several  general  propositions  that 
meet  with  constant  and  ready  assent,  as  soon  as  proposed  to  men 
grown  up,  who  have  attained  the  use  of  more  general  and  abstract 
ideas,  and  names  standing  for  them  ;  yet  they  not  being  to  be 
found  in  those  of  tender  years,  who  nevertheless  know  other 
things,  they  cannot  pretend  to  universal  assent  of  intelligent 
persons,  and  so  by  no  means  can  be  supposed  innate  ;  it  being 
impossible  that  any  truth  which  is  innate  (if  there  were  any 
such)  should  be  unknown,  at  least  to  any  one  who  knows  any 
thing  else  :  since,  if  there  are  innate  truths,  they  must  be  innate 
thoughts  ;  there  being  nothing  a  truth  in  the  mind  that  it  has 
never  thought  on.  Whereby  it  is  evident,  if  there  be  any  innate 
truths  in  the  mind,  they  must  necessarily  be  the  first  of  any  thought: 
on  ;  the  first  that  appear  there. 

§  27.    NOT  INNATE,  BECAUSE  THEY  APPEAR  LEAST,  WHERE  WHAT  IS 
INNATE  SHOWS  ITSELF  CLEAREST. 

That  the  general  maxims  we  are  discoursing  of  are  not  known 
to  children,  idiots,  and  a  great  part  of  mankind,  we  have  already 
sufficiently  proved  ;  whereby  it  is  evident,  they  have  not  a  uni- 
versal assent,  nor  are  general  impressions.  But  there  is  this 
farther  argument  in  it  against  their  being  innate  ;  that  these 
characters,  if  they  were  native  and  original  impressions,  should 
appear  fairest  and  clearest  in  those  persons  in  whom  yet  we  find 
no  footsteps  of  them  :  and  it  is,  in  my  opinion,  a  strong  presump- 
tion that  they  are  not  innate,  since  they  are  least  known  to  those, 
in  whom,  if  they  were  innate,  they  must  needs  exert  themselves 
with  most  force  and  vigour.  For  children,  idiots,  savages,  and 
illiterate  people,  being  of  all  others  the  least  corrupted  by  custom 
or  borrowed  opinions,  learning  and  education  having  not  cast  their 
native  thoughts  into  new  moulds,  nor,  by  superinducing  foreign 
and  studied  doctrines,  confounded  those  fair  characters  nature 
had  written  there ;  one  might  reasonably  imagine,  that  in  their 
minds,  these  innate  notions  should  lie  open  fairly  to  every  one's 
view,  as  it  is  certain  the  thoughts  of  children  do.  It  might  very 
well  be  expected,  that  these  principles  should  be  perfectly  known 
to  naturals,  which  being  stamped  immediately  on  the  soul,  (as 
these  men  suppose)  can  have  no  dependence  on  the  constitutions 

Vol.  I.  10 


74  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  IN  THE  MIND*  [BOOK  S» 

or  organs  of  the  body,  the  only  confessed  difference  between 
them  and  others.  One  would  think,  according  to  these  men's 
principles,  that  all  these  native  beams  of  light,  (were  there  any 
such)  should  in  those  who  have  no  reserves,  no  arts  of  conceal- 
ment, shine  out  in  their  full  lustre,  and  leave  us  in  no  more  doubt 
of  their  being  there,  than  we  are  of  their  love  of  pleasure 
and  abhorrence  of  pain.  But  alas!  among  children,  idiots, 
savages,  and  the  grossly  illiterate,  what  general  maxims  are  to  be 
found  ?  what  universal  principles  of  knowledge  ?  Their  notions 
are  few  and  narrow,  borrowed  only  from  those  objects  they  have 
had  most  to  do  with,  and  which  have  made  upon  their  senses  the 
frequentest  and  strongest  impressions.  A  child  knows  his  nurse 
and  his  cradle,  and  by  degrees,  the  playthings  of  a  little  more 
advanced  age ;  and  a  young  savage  has,  perhaps,  his  head  filled 
with  love  and  hunting,  according  to  the  fashion  of  his  tribe.  But 
lie  that  from  a  child  untaught,  or  a  wild  inhabitant  of  the  woods, 
would  expect  these  abstract  maxims  and  reputed  principles  of 
sciences,  will,  I  fear,  find  himself  mistaken.  Such  kind  of  gene- 
ral propositions  are  seldom  mentioned  in  the  huts  of  Indians, 
much,  less  are  they  to  be  found  in  the  thoughts  of  children,  or 
any  impressions  of  them  on  the  minds  of  naturals.  They  are 
the  language  and  business  of  the  schools  and  academies  of  learn- 
ed nations,  accustomed  to  that  sprt  of  conversation  or  learning, 
where  disputes  are  frequent ;  these  maxims  being  suited  to  arti- 
ficial argumentation,  and  useful  for  conviction,  but  not  much 
conducing  to  the  discovery  of  truth  or  advancement  of  knowledge, 
but  of  their  small  use  for  the  improvement  of  knowledge,  I  shall 
have  occasion  to  speak  more  at  large,  I.  4.  c.  7. 

§28.  RECAPITULATION. 

L  know  not  how  absurd  this  may  seem  to  the  masters  ol 
demonstration  :  and  probably  it  will  hardly  down  with  any  body 
;tt  first  hearing.  I  must  therefore  beg  a  little  truce  with  prejudice, 
and  the  forbearance  of  censure,  till  I  have  been  heard  out  in  the 
sequel  of  this  discourse,  being  very  willing  to  submit  to  better 
judgments.  And  since  I  impartially  search  after  truth,  I  shall 
not  be  sorry  to  be  convinced  that  I  have  been  too  fond  of  my 
own  notions  ;  which,  I  confess,  we  are  all  apt  to  be,  when  appli- 
cation and  btudy  have  warmed  our  heads  with  them. 

Upon  the  whole  matter,  I  cannot  see  any  ground  to  think 
these  two  speculative  maxims  innate,  since  they  are  not  univer- 
sally assented  to  ;  and  the  assent  they  so  generally  find  is  no 
other  than  what  several  propositions,  not  allowed  to  be  innate, 
equally  partake  in  with  them;  and  since  the  assent  that  is  given 
them  is  produced  another  way,  and  comes  not  from  natural 
inscription,  as  I  doubt  not  but  to  make  appear  in  the  following 
discourse.  And  if  these  first  principles  of  knowledge  and  science 
are  found  not  to  be  innate,  no  other  speculative  maxims  can  (I 
suppose.)  with  better  right  pretend  to  be  so, 


CHAPTER  III. 

NO  INNATE  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES 

<§  1.  NO  MORAL    PRINCIPLES  SO  CLEAR,  AND  SO  GENERALLY  RECEIVE©,   IS 
THE  KORKMfc'.NTIONED    SPECUEATfVtE    MAXIMS. 

If  those  speculative  maxims,  whereof  we  discoursed  in  the 
foregoing  chapter,  have  not  an  actual  universal  assent  from 
all  mankind,  as  we  there  proved,  it  is  much  more  visible  con- 
cerning practical  principles,  that  they  come  short  of  a  universal 
reception :  and  I  think  it  will  be  hard  to  instance  any  one  moral 
rule  which  can  pretend  to  so  general  and  ready  an  assent,  as, 
"  what  is,  is  ;"  or  to  be  so  manifest  a  truth  as  this,  "  that  it  is 
impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be/'  Whereby  it 
is  evident  that  they  are  farther  removed  from  a  title  to  be 
innate  ;  and  the  doubt  of  their  being  native  impressions  on  the 
mind  is  stronger  against  those  moral  principles  than  the  other. 
Not  that  it  brings  their  truth  at  all  in  question  :  they  are  equally 
true,  though  not  equally  evident.  Those  speculative  maxims  carry 
their  own  evidence  with  them  :  but  moral  principles  require  rea- 
soning and  discourse,  and  some  exercise  of  the  mind,  to  discover 
the  certainty  of  their  truth.  They  lie  not  open  as  natural  cha- 
racters engraven  on  the  mind ;  which,  if  any  such  were,  they  must 
needs  be  visible  by  themselves,  and  by  their  own  hght  be  certain 
and  known  to  every  body.  But  this  is  no  derogation  to  their  truth 
and  certainty,  no  more  than  it  is  to  the  truth  or  certainty  of  the 
three  angles  of  a  triangle  being  equal  to  two  right  ones  ;  because 
it  is  not  so  evident,  as,  "  the  whole  is  bigger  than  a  part ;"  nor  so 
apt  to  be  assented  to  at  first  hearing.  It  may  suffice,  that  these 
moral  rules  are  capable  of  demonstration  ;  and  therefore  it  is 
our  own  fault,  if  we  come  not  to  a  certain  knowledge  of  them. 
But  the  ignorance  wherein  many  men  are  of  them,  and  the  slow- 
ness of  assent  wherewith  others  receive  them,  are  manifest  proofs 
that  they  are  not  innate,  and  such  as  offer  themselves  to  their 
view  without  searching. 

§  2.    FAITH  AND  JUSTICE  NOT  OWNED   AS   PRINCIPLES  EV   ALL   MEN. 

Whether  there  be  any  such  moral  principles,  wherein  all  men 
do  agree,  I  appeal  to  any  who  have  been  but  moderately  conver- 
sant in  the  history  of  mankind,  and  looked  abroad  beyond  the 
smoke  of  their  own  chimneys.  Where  is  that  practical  truth, 
that  is  universally  received  without  doubt  or  question,  as  it 
must  be  if  innate  ?  Justice,  and  keeping  of  contracts,  is  that 
which  most  men  seem  to  agree  in.  This  is  a  principle  which  is 
thought  to  extend  itself  to  the  dens  of  thieves,  and  the  confede- 
racies of  the  greatest  villains  ;  and  they  who  have  gone  farthest 
towards  the  putting  off  of  humanity  itself,  keep  faith  and  rules  of 
justice  one  with  another.     I  grant  (hat  outlaws  themselves  do 


't^  yto  INNATE  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES.  [BOOK 

this  one  among  another  ;  but  it  is  without  receiving  these  as  the 
innate  laws  of  nature.  They  practise  them  as  rules  of  conve- 
nience within  their  own  communities :  but  it  is  impossible  to 
conceive,  that  he  embraccs*justice  as  a  practical  principle,  who 
acts  fairly  with  his  fellow-highwayman,  and  at  the  same  time 
plunders  or  kills  the  next  honest  man  he  meets  with.  Justice 
and  truth  are  the  common  ties  of  society  ;  and,  therefore,  even 
outlaws  and  robbers,  who  break  with  all  the  world  besides,  must 
keep  faith  and  rules  of  equity  among  themselves,  or  else  they 
cannot  hold  together.  But  will  any  one  say,  that  those  that  live 
by  fraud  or  rapine  have  innate  principles  of  truth  and  justice 
which  they  allow  and  assent  to. 

§  3.    OBJECTION*.        THOUGH   MEN  DENY  THEM  IN   THEIR  PRACTICE,  YET 
THEY   ADMIT   THEM  IN  THEIR  THOUGHTS,  ANSWERED. 

Perhaps  it  will  be  urged,  that  the  tacit  assent  of  their  minds 
agrees  to  what  their  practice  contradicts.     1  answer,  first,  1  have 
always  thought  the  actions  of  men  the  best  interpreters  of  their 
thoughts.     But  since  it  is  certain,  that  most  men's  practices,  and 
some  men's  open  professions,  have  either  questioned  or  denied 
these  principles,  it  is  impossible  to  establish  a  universal  consent 
(though  we  should  look  for  it  only  among  grown  men,)  without 
which  it  is  impossible  to  conclude  them  innate.  Secondly,  it  is  very 
strange  and  unreasonable  to  suppose  innate  practical  principles 
that  terminate  only  in  contemplation.  Practical  principles  derived 
from  nature  are  there  for  operation,  and  must,  produce  conformity 
of  action,  not  barely  speculative  assent  to  their  truth,  or  else  they 
are  in  vain  distinguished  from  speculative  maxims.     Nature,  I 
confess,  has  put  into  man  a  desire  of  happiness,  and  an  aversion 
to  misery ;  these  indeed  are  innate  practical  principles,  which 
(as  practical  principles  ought)  do  continue  constantly  to  operate 
and  influence  all  our  actions  without  ceasing ;  these  may  be  ob- 
served, in  all  persons  and  all  ages,  steady  and  universal ;  but 
these  are  inclinations  of  the  appetite  to  good,  not  impressions  of 
truth  on  the  understanding,     i  deny  not  that  there  are  natural 
tendencies  imprinted  on  the  minds  of  men :  and  that,  from  the 
very  first    instances  of  sense  and  perception,  there  are  some 
things  that  arc  grateful,  and  others  unwelcome  to  them ;  some 
things  that  they  incline  to,  and  others  that  they  fly  ;  but  this 
makes  nothing  for  innate  characters  on  the  mind,  which  are  to 
be  the  principles  of«knowledge,  regulating  our  practice.     Such 
natural  impressions  on  the  understanding  are  so  far  from  being 
confirmed  hereby,  that  this  is  an  argument  against  them  ;  since, 
if  there  were  certain  characters  imprinted  by  nature  on  the  un- 
derstanding, as  the  principles  of  knowledge,  we  could  not  but 
perceive  them  constantly  operate  in  us,  and  influence  our  know- 
ledge, as  we  do  those  others  on  the  will  and  appetite  ;  which 
never  cease  to  be  the  constant  springs  and  motives  of  all  our 
actions,  to  which  we  perpetually  feel  them  strongly  impelling  us. 


CB.  II!.]       NO   INNATE  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLE?. 

§  4.  MORAL  RULES  NEED  A  PROOF,  ERGO  NOT  INNATE. 

Another  reason  that  makes  me  doubt  of  any  innate,  practical 
principles,  is,  That  I  think  there  cannot  any  one  moral  rule  be 
proposed,  whereof  a  man  may  not  justly  demand  a  reason  ;  which 
would  be  perfectly  ridiculous  and  absurd,  if  they  were  innate,  or 
so  much  as  self-evident ;  which  every  innate  principle  must  needs 
be,  and  not  need  any  proof  to  ascertain  its  truth,  nor  want  any 
reason  to  gain  it  approbation.  He  would  be  thought  void  of 
common  sense,  who  asked,  on  the  one  side,  or.  on  the  other  side, 
went  to  give  a  reason  why  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing 
to  be,  and  not  to  be.  It  carries  its  own  light  and  evidence  with 
it,  and  needs  no  other  proof:  he  that  understands  the  terms, 
assents  to  it  for  its  own  sake,  or  else  nothing  will  ever  be  able  to 
prevail  with  him  to  do  it.  But  should  that  most  unshaken  rule  of 
morality,  and  foundation  of  all  social  virtue,  That  one  should  do 
as  he  would  be  done  unto,  be  proposed  to  one  who  never  heard  it 
before,  but  yet  is  of  capacity  to  understand  its  meaning,  might 
he  not  without  any  absurdity  ask  a  reason  why  ?  And  were  not 
he  that  proposed  it  bound  to  make  out  the  truth  and  reasonable- 
ness of  it  to  him?  which  plainly  shows  it  not  to  be  innate  ;  for  if  it 
were,  it  could  neither  want  nor  receive  any  proof,  but  must  needs 
(at  least,  as  soon  as  heard  and  understood)  be  received  and  as- 
sented to,  as  an  unquestionable  truth,  which  a  man  can  by  no 
means  doubt  of.  So  that  the  truth  of  all  these  moral  rules  plainly 
depends  upon  some  other  antecedent  to  them,  and  from  which 
they  must  be  deduced  ;  which  could  not  be,  if  either  they  were 
innate,  or  so  much  as  self-evident. 

§  5.  INSTANCE  IN  KEEPING  COMPACTS. 

That  men  should  keep  their  compacts  is  certainly  a  great  and 
undeniable  rule  in  morality.  But  yet,  if  a  Christian,  who  has 
the  view  of  happiness  and  misery  in  another  life,  be  asked 
why  a  man  must  keep  his  word,  he  will  give  this  as  a  reason  ; 
Because  God,  who  has  the  power  of  eternal  life  and  death,  re- 
quires it  of  us.  But  if  an  Hobbist  be  asked  why,  he  will  answer, 
Because  the  public  requires  it,  and  the  Leviathan  will  punish 
you,  if  you  do  not.  And  if  one  of  the  old  philosophers  had 
been  asked,  he  would  have  answered,  Because  it  was  dishonest, 
below  the  dignity  of  a  man,  and  opposite  to  virtue,  the  highest 
perfection  of  human  nature,  to  do  otherwise. 

§  6.  VIRTUE  GENERALLY  APPROVED,  NOT  BECAUSE  INNATE,  B1 
BECAUSE  PROFITABLE. 

Hence  naturally  flows  the  great  variety  of  opinions  concerning 
moral  rules  which  are  to  be  found  among  men.  according  to  the 
different  sorts  of  happiness  they  have  a  prospect  of,  or  propose 
to  themselves:  which  could  not  be,  if  practical  principles  were 
innate,  and  imprinted  in  our  minds  immediately  by  the  hand  of 
God.     I  grant  the  existence  of  God  is  so  many  ways  manifest. 


TO  KO  ISNATE  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES.  [BOOK  T. 

and  the  obedience  we  owe  him  so  congruous  to  the  light  of  reason, 
that  a  great  part  of  mankind  give  testimony  to  the  law  of  nature; 
but  yet  I  think  it  must  be  allowed,  that  several  moral  rules  may 
receive  from  mankind  a  very  general  approbation,  without  either 
knowing  or  admitting  the  true  ground  of  morality  ;  which  can 
only  be  the  will  and  law  of  a  God,  who  sees  men  in  the  dark,  has 
in  his  hand  rewards  and  punishments,  and  power  enough  to 
call  to  account  the  proudest  offender :  for  God  having,  by  an 
inseparable  connexion,  joined  virtue  and  public  happiness  to- 
gether, and  made  the  practice  thereof  necessary  to  the  preserva- 
tion of  society,  and  visibly  beneficial  to  all  with  whom  the  virtu- 
ous man  has  to  do,  it  is  no  wonder  that  every  one  should  not 
only  allow,  but  recommend  and  magnify,  those  rule^  to  others, 
from  whose  observance  of  them  he  is  sure  to  reap  advantage  to 
himself.  He  may,  Out  of  interest  as  well  as  conviction,  cry  up 
that  for  sacred,  which,  if  once  trampled  on  and  profaned,  he  him- 
self cannot  be  safe  nor  secure.  This,  though  it  takes  nothing 
from  the  moral  and  eternal  obligation  which  these  rules  evidently 
have,  yet  it  shows  that  the  outward  acknowledgment  men  pay  to 
them  in  their  words,  proves  not  that  they  are  innate  principles  ; 
nay,  it  proves  not  so  much  as  that  men  assent  to  them  inwardly 
in  their  own  minds,  as  the  inviolable  rules  of  their  own  practice; 
since  we  find  that  self-interest,  and  the  conveniences  of  this  life, 
make  many  men  own  an  outward  profession  and  approbation  of 
them,  whose  actions  sufficiently  prove  that  they  very  little  consi- 
der the  lawgiver  that  prescribed  these  rules,  nor  the  hell  that  he 
has  ordained  for  the  punishment  of  those  that  transgress  them. 

o  7.  men's  actions  convince  us  that  the  rule  of  virtue  is  not 

THEIR  INTERNAL   PRINCIPLE. 

For  if  we  will  not  in  civility  allow  too  much  sincerity  to  the 
professions  of  most  men,  but  think  their  actions  to  be  the  inter- 
preters of  their  thoughts,  we  ?hall  find  that  they  have  no  such 
internal  veneration  for  these  rules,  nor  so  full  a  persuasion  of 
their  certainty  and  obligation.  The  great  principle  of  morality, 
"  to  do  as  one  would  be  done  to,"  is  more  commenced  than 
practised.  But  the  breach  of  this  rule  cannot  be  a  greater  vice 
than  to  teach  others  that  it  is  no  moral  rule,  nor  obligatory, 
would  be  thought  madness,  and  contrary  to  that  interest  men 
sacrifice  to,  when  they  break  it  themselves.  Perhaps  conscience 
will  be  urged  as  checking  us  for  such  breaches,  and  so  the  inter- 
nal obligation  and  establishment  of  the  rule  be  preserved. 

§  8.  CONSCIENCE  NO  PROOF  OF  ANY  INNATE  MORAL  RULE. 

To  which  I  answer,  that  I  doubt  not  but,  without  being  writ- 
ten on  their  hearts,  many  men  may,  by  the  same  way  that  they 
come  to  the  knowledge  of  other  th'ngs,  come  to  assent  to  several 
moral  rules,  and  be  convinced  of  their  obligation.  Others  also 
mav  com*1  to  be  of  the  same  mind,  from  their  education,  com- 


«-;h.  hi.]  no  innate  practical  PRINCIPLES.  T'J 

pany,  and  customs  of  their  country  ;  which  persuasion,  however 
got,  will  serve  to  set  conscience  on  work,  which  is  nothing  else 
but  our  own  opinion  or  judgment  of  the  moral  rectitude  or  pra- 
vity  of  our  own  actions.  And  if  conscience  be  a  proof  of  innate 
principles,  contraries  may  be  innate  principles ;  since  some  men, 
with  the  same  bent  of  conscience,  prosecute  what  others  avoid. 

§  9.    INSTANCES  OF  ENORMITIES  PRACTISED  WITHOUT  REMORSE. 

But  I  cannot  see  how  any  men  should  ever  transgress  those 
moral  rules,  with  confidence  and  serenity,  were  they  innate, 
and  stamped  upon  their  minds.  View  but  an  army  at  the  sack- 
ing of  a  town,  and  see  what  observation  or  sense  of  moral  prin- 
ciples, or  what  touch  of  conscience  for  all  the  outrages  they  do. 
Robberies,  murders,  rapes,  are  the  sports  of  men  set  at  liberty 
from  punishment  and  censure.  Have  there  not  been  whole  na- 
tions, and  those  of  the  most  civilized  people,  among  whom  the 
exposing  their  children,  and  leaving  them  in  the  fields  to  perish 
by  want  or  wild  beasts,  has  been  the  practice,  as  little  condemned 
or  scrupled  as  the  begetting  them  /  Do  they  not  still,  in  some 
countries,  put  them  into  the  same  graves  with  their  mothers,  if 
they  die  in  childbirth  ;  or  despatch  them,  if  a  pretended  astro- 
loger declares  them  to  have  unhappy  stars  ?  And  are  there  not 
places  where,  at  a  certain  age,  they  kill  or  expose  their  parents 
without  any  remorse  at  all  ?  In  a  part  of  Asia,  the  sick,  when 
their  case  comes  to  be  thought  desperate,  are  carried  out  and 
laid  on  the  earth,  before  they  are  dead  ;  and  left  there,  exposed 
to  wind  and  weather,  to  perish  without  assistance  or  pity. (a) 
It  is  familiar  among  the  Vlingrelians,  a  people  professing  Chris- 
tianity, to  bury  their  children  alive  without  scruple. (6)  There 
are  places  where  they  eat  their  own  children. (c)  The  Carib- 
bees  were  wont  to  geld  their  children,  on  purpose  to  fat  and  eat 
them.(rf)  And  Garcilasso  de  la  Vega  tells  us  of  a  people  in  Peru 
which  were  wont  to  fat  and  eat  the  children  they  got  on  their 
female  captives,  whom  they  kept  as  concubines  for  that  purpose  ; 
and  when  they  were  past  breeding,  the  mothers  themselves  were 
killed  too  and  eaten.(e)  The  virtues  whereby  the  Tououpin- 
ambos  believed  they  merited  paradise  were  revenge,  and  eating 
abundance  of  their  enemies.  They  have  not  so  much  as  a  name 
for  God,(/)  and  have  no  religion,  no  worship.  The  saints  who 
are  canonized  among  the  Turks  lead  lives  which  one  cannot 
with  modesty  relate.  A  remarkable  passage  to  this  purpose, 
out  of  the  voyage  of  Baumgarten,  which  is  a  book  not  every  day 
to  be  met  with,  I  shall  set  down  at  large  tn  the  language  it  is  pub- 
lished in.     lOi   (sc.  prope  Bclhes  in  /Egypto)  vidimus  sanctum 

(.*)  Gruher  apud  Thcvenot,  pan  4,  p.  13.    (b)  La'mbei't  apud  Thevcnot,  p.  38, 
(c)  Vessiusde  Nili  Ori<jine,c.  18, 19.  (d)  P.  Mart.  Dec.  1. 

1  ■  I..Q.12.  (/)Lerv,c.  16,316^1. 


80  NO  INNATE  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES.  [BOOK  I. 

unum  Saracenicum  inter  arenarum  cumidos,  ita  ut  ex  utero  matrix 
prodiit,  nudum  sedentem.  Mos  est,  ut  didicimus,  Mahometistis, 
ut  eos,  qui  amentes  et  sine  ratione  sunt,  pro  Sanctis  colant  et  vene- 
rentur  Insuper  et  eos,  qui  cum  diu  vitam  egerint  inquinatissimam, 
volunlariam  demum  pcenitentiam  et  paupertatem.  sanctitate  vene- 
randos  deputant.  Ejusmodi  verb  genus  hominum  libertatem 
quondam  effrcenem  habent,  domos  quas  volunt  intrandi,  edendi,  bi- 
bendi,  et  quod  majus  est,  concumbcndi ;  ex  quo  concubitu  si  proles 
secuta  fuerit,  sancta  similiter  habetur.  His  ergo  hominibus  dum 
vivunt,  magnos  exhibent  honores  ;  mortuis  verb  vel  templa  vel 
monumenta  extruunt  amplissima,  eosque  contingere  ac  sepelire 
maximcB  fortunes  ducunt  loco.  Audivimus  hcec  dicta  et  dicenda 
per  interpretem  a  Mucrelo  nostro.  Insuper  sanctum  ilium,  quern 
to  loco  vidimus,  publicitus  apprime  commendari,  eum  esse  hominem 
sanctum,  divinumac  integritate  prcecipuum  ;  eo  quod,  nee  fozmina- 
rum  unquam  esset,  nee  puerorum  sed  tantummodo  asellarum  con- 
cubitor  atque  mularum — Peregr.  Baumgarten,  1.  2.  c.  1.  p.  73. 
More  of  the  same  kind,  concerning  these  precious  saints  among 
the  Turks,  may  be  seen  in  Pietro  della  Valle,  in  his  letter  of  the 
25th  of  January,  1616.  Where  then  are  those  innate  principles 
of  justice,  piety,  gratitude,  equity,  chastity  1  Or,  where  is  that  uni- 
versal consent,  that  assures  us  there  are  such  inbred  rules  ?  Mur- 
ders in  duels,  when  fashion  has  made  them  honourable,  are  com- 
mitted without  remorse  of  conscience  ;  nay,  in  many  places,  in- 
nocence in  this  case  is  the  greatest  ignominy.  And  if  we  look 
abroad,  to  take  a  view  of  men  as  they  are,  we  shall  find  that  they 
have  remorse  in  one  place  for  doing  or  omitting  that,  which 
others,  in  another  place,  think  they  merit  by. 

§   10.    MEN  HAVE  CONTRARY  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES. 

He  that  will  carefully  peruse  the  history  of  mankind,  and  look 
abroad  into  the  several  tribes  of  men,  and  with  indifferency  sur- 
vey their  actions,  will  be  able  to  satisfy  himself  that  there  is  scarce 
that  principle  of  morality  to  be  named,  or  rule  of  virtue  to  be 
thought  on,  (those  only  excepted  that  are  absolutely  necessary  to 
hold  society  together,  which  commonly,  too,  are  neglected  be- 
twixt distinct  societies,)  which  is  not,  somewhere  or  other,  slight- 
ed and  condemned  by  the  general  fashion  of  whole  societies  of 
men,  governed  by  practical  opinions  and  rules  of  living  quite  op- 
posite to  others. 

§  11.    WHOLE  NATIONS  REJECT  SEVERAL  MORAL  RULES. 

Here,  perhaps,  it  will  be  objected,  that  it  is  no  argument  thai; 
the  rule  is  not  known,  because  it  is  broken.  I  grant  the  objec- 
tion good  where  men,  though  they  transgress,  yet  disown  not  the 
law ;  where  fear  of  shame,  censure,  or  punishment,  carries  the 
mark  of  some  awe  it  has  upon  them.  But  it  is  impossible  to  con- 
ceive that  a  whole  nation  of  men  should  all  publicly  reject  and 


CH.  in.]  [no  innate  practical  principles.  SI 

renounce  what  every  one  of  them,  certainly  and  infallibly,  knew 
to  be  a  law  ;  for  so  they  must,  who  have  it  naturally  imprinted 
on  their  minds.  It  is  possible  men  may  sometimes  own  rules  of 
morality  which,  in  their  private  thoughts,  they  do  not  believe  to 
be  true,  only  to  keep  themselves  in  reputation  and  esteem 
among  those  who  are  persuaded  of  their  obligation.  But  it  is 
not  to  be  imagined  that  a  whole  society  of  men  should  publicly 
and  professedly  disown  and  cast  off  a  rule,  which  they  could  not, 
in  their  own  minds,  but  be  infallibly  certain  was  a  law  ;  nor  be 
ignorant  that  all  men  they  should  have  to  do  with  knew  it  to  be 
.such  :  and  therefore  must  every  one  of  them  apprehend  from 
others  all  the  contempt  and  abhorrence  due  to  one  who  professes 
himself  void  of  humanity  :  and  one,  who,  confounding  the  known 
and  natural  measures  of  right  and  wrong,  cannot  but  be  looked 
i  >n  as  the  professed  enemy  of  their  peace  and  happiness.  What- 
ever practical  principle  is  innate  cannot  be  known  to  every  one 
to  be  just  and  good.  It  is  therefore  little  less  than  a  contradic- 
tion to  suppose  that  whole  nations  of  men  should,  both  in  their 
professions  and  practice,  unanimously  and  universally  give  the 
lie  to  what,  by  the  most  invincible  evidence,  every  one  of  them 
knew  to  be  true,  right,  and  good.  This  is  enough  to  satisfy  us 
that  no  practical  rule,  which  is  any  where  universally,  and  with 
public  approbation  or  allowance,  transgressed,  can  be  supposed 
innate.  But  I  have  something  further  to  add,  in  answer  to  this 
objection. 

12. 

The  breaking  of  a  rule,  say  you,  is  no  argument  that  it  is  un- 
known. I  grant  it :  but  the  generally  allowed  breach  of  it  any 
where,  I  say,  is  a  proof  that  it  is  not  innate.  For  example  :  let 
us  take  any  of  these  rules,  which  being  the  most  obvious  deduc- 
tions of  human  reason,  and  conformable  to  the  natural  inclination 
of  the  greatest  part  of  men,  fewest  people  have  had  the  impu- 
dence to  deny,  or  inconsideration  to  doubt  of.  If  any  can  be 
thought  to  be  naturally  imprinted,  none,  I  think,  can  have  a  fairer 
pretence  to  be  innate  than  this ;  "  parents,  preserve  and  cherish 
your  children."  When  therefore  you  say  that  this  is  on  innate 
rule,  what  do  you  mean  ?  Either  that  it  is  an  innate  principle, 
which  upon  all  occasions  excites  and  directs  the  actions  of  ail 
men  ;  or  else  that  it  is  a  truth,  which  all  men  have  imprinted  on 
their  minds,  and  which  therefore  they  know  and  assent  to.  But 
in  neither  of  these  senses  is  it  innate.  First,  that  it  is  not  a  prin- 
ciple which  influences  all  men's  actions,  is  what  I  have  proved 
by  the  examples  before  cited  :  nor  need  we  seek  so  far  as  Min- 
grelia  or  Peru  to  find  instances  of  such  as  neglect,  abuse,  nay,  and 
destroy  their  children;  or  look  on  it  only  as  the  more  than  brutality 
of  some  savage  and  barbarous  nations,  when  we  remember  that  it 
was  a  familiar  and  uncondemued  practice  among  the  Creeks  and 
Romans  to  expose,  without  pity  or  remorse,  their  innocent  in- 

VOL.  I.  11 


il  NO  INNATE  PRACTICAL  I'RINi  ll'LL-.  [BOOK  I, 

fants.  Secondly,  that  it  is  an  innate  truth,  known  to  all  men,  is 
also  false.  For  "  parents,  preserve  your  children,"  is  so  far 
from  an  innate  truth,  that  it  is  no  truth  at  all :  it  being  a  com- 
mand, and  not  a  proposition,  and  so  not  capable  of  truth  or  false- 
hood. To  make  it  capable  of  being  assented  to  as  true,  it  must 
be  reduced  to  some  such  proposition  as  this  :  "  it  is  the  duty  of 
parents  to  preserve  their  children."  But  what  duty  is  cannot  be 
understood  without  a  law,  nor  a  law  be  known,  or  supposed, 
without  a  lawmaker,  or  without  reward  and  punishment :  so  that 
it  is  impossible  that  this,  or  any  other  practical  principle,  should 
be  innate,  i,  e.  be  imprinted  on  the  mind  as  a  duty,  without  sup- 
posing the  ideas  of  God,  of  law,  of  obligation,  of  punishment,  of 
a  life  after  this,  innate ;  for  that  punishment  follows  not,  in  this 
life,  the  breach  of  this  rule,  and  consequently,  that  it  has  not  the 
force  of  a  law  in  countries  where  the  generally  allowed  practice 
runs  counter  to  it,  is  in  itself  evident.  But  these  ideas  (which 
must  be  all  of  them  innate,  if  any  thing  as  a  duty  be  so)  are  so 
far  from  being  innate,  that  it  is  not  every  studious  or  thinking 
man,  much  less  every  one  that  is  born,  in  whom  they  are  to  be 
found  clear  and  distinct :  and  that  one  of  them,  which  of  all 
others  seems  most  likely  to  be  innate,  is  not  so  (I  mean  the  idea 
of  God)  1  think,  in  the  next  chapter,  will  appear  very  evident  to 
any  considering  man. 


From  what  has  been  said,  I  think  we  may  safely  conclude,  thai 
whatever  practical  rule  is,  in  any  place,  generally  and  with  allow- 
ance broken,  cannot  be  supposed  innate  :  it  being  impossible 
that  men  should,  without  shame  or  fear,  confidently  and  serenely 
break  a  rule,  which  they  could  not  but  evidently  know  that  God 
had  set  up,  and  would  certainly  punish  the  breach  of  (which 
they  must,  if  it  were  innate)  to  a  degree  to  make  it  a  very  ill 
bargain  to  the  transgressor.  Without  such  a  knowledge  as  this,  a 
man  can  never  be  certain  that  any  thing  is  his  duty.  Ignorance, 
or  doubt  of  the  law,  hopes  to  escape  the  knowledge  or  power  of 
the  lawmaker  or  the  like,  may  make  men  give  way  to  a  present 
appetite ;  but  let  any  one  see  the  fault,  and  the  rod  by  it,  and 
with  the  transgression  a  fire  ready  to  punish  it ;  a  pleasure 
tempting,  and  the  hand  of  the  Almighty  visibly  held  up,  and 
prepared  to  take  vengeance  (for  this  must  be  the  case,  where 
any  duty  is  imprinted  on  the  mind  ;)  and  then  tell  me  whether  if 
be  possible  for  people,  with  such  a  prospect,  such  a  certain 
knowledge  as  this,  wantonly,  and  without  scruple,  to  offend 
against  a  law,  which  they  carry  about  them  in  indelible  charac- 
ters, and  that  stares  them  in  the  face  whilst  they  are  breaking  it  .' 
Whether  men,  at  the  same  time  that  they  feel  in  themselves  the 
imprinted  edicts  of  an  omnipotent  lawmaker,  can  with  assurance 
and  gayety  slight  and  trample  under  foot  his  most  sacred  injunc- 
tions?    And.  lastly,  whether  it  be  possible,  that  whilst  a  reran 


ch.  ar.j  \u  i.w.nx  practical  principles*  «5* 

thus  openly  bids  defiance  to  this  innate  law  and  supreme  law- 
giver, all  the  by-standers,  yea,  even  the  governors  and  rulers  of 
the  people,  full" of  the  same  sense  both  of  the  law  and  law-maker, 
should  silently  connive,  without  testifying  their  dislike,  or  laying 
the  least  blamo  on  it  ?  Principles  of  actions  indeed  there  are 
lodged  in  men's  appetites,  but  these  are  so  far  from  being  innate 
moral  principles,  that,  if  they  were  left  to  their  full  swing,  they 
would  carry  men  to  the  overturning  of  all  morality.  .Moral  laws 
are  set  as  a  curb  and  restraint  to  these  exorbitant  desires,  which 
they  cannot  be  but  by  rewards  and  punishments,  that  will  over- 
balance the  satisfaction  any  one  shall  propose  to  himself  in  the 
breach  of  the  law.  If  therefore  any  thing  be  imprinted  on  the 
minds  of  all  men  as  a  law,  all  men  must  have  a  certain  and  una- 
voidable knowledge  that  certain  and  unavoidable  punishment  will 
attend  the  breach  of  it.  For  if  men  can  be  ignorant  or  doubtful 
of  what  is  innate,  innate  principles  are  insisted  on  and  urged  to 
no  purpose  ;  truth  and  certainty  (the  things  pretended)  are  not 
at  all  secured  by  them  ;  but  men  are  in  the  same  uncertain  float- 
ing estate  with,  as  without  them.  An  evident  indubitable  know- 
ledge of  unavoidable  punishment,  great  enough  to  make  the 
transgression  very  uneligible,  must  accompany  an  innate  law ; 
unless,  with  an  innate  law,  they  can  suppose  an  innate  gospel 
loo.  I  would  not  here  be  mistaken,  as  if,  because  1  deny  an 
innate  law,  I  thought  there  were  none  but  positive  laws.  There 
is  a  great  deal  of  difference  between  an  innate  law,  and  a  law  of 
nature  ;  between  something  imprinted  on  our  minds  in  their  very 
original,  and  something  that  we  being  ignorant  of  may  attain  to 
the  knowledge  of  by  the  use  and  application  of  our  natural 
faculties.  And  I  think  they  equally  forsake  the  truth,  who, 
running  into  contrary  extremes,  either  affirm  an  innate  law,  or, 
deny  that  there  is  a  law  knowable  by  the  light  of  nature,  i.  e„ 
without  the  help  of  positive  revelation. 

}    14.    THOSK  WHO  MAINTAIN   I.WVVH;   PiUCTWSU. -PRIXjOIPtES  TELL  l."s 
NOT  WHAT  THEY   A  UK. 

The  dilference  there  is  among  men  in  their  practical  princi- 
ples is  so  evident,  that,  1  think,  1  need  say  no  more  to  evince  that 
it  will  be  impossible  to  find  any  innate  moral  rules  by  this  mark 
of  general  assent :  and  it  is  enough  to  make  one  suspect  that  the 
supposition  of  such  innate  principles  is  but  an  opinion  taken  up 
at  pleasure,  since  those  who  talk  so  confidently  of  them  are  so 
sparing  to  tell  us  which  they  are.  This  might  with  justice  be 
expected  from  those  men  who  lay  stress  upon  this  opinion  ;  and 
it  gives  occasion  to  distrust  either  their  knowledge  or  charity, 
who  declaring  that  Cod  has  imprinted  on  the  minds  of  men  the 
foundations  of  knowledge,  and  the  rules  of  living,  are  yet  so  little 
favourable  to  the  information  of  their  neighbours,  or  the  quiet 
of  mankind,  as  not  to  point  out  to  them  which  they  are  in  the 
variety  men  are  distracted  with,      But,  hi  truth,  were  there 


84  NO  INNATE  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES.  [BOOK  I. 

any  such  innate  principles,  there  would  be  no  need  to  teach 
them.  Did  men  find  such  innate  propositions  stamped  on  their 
minds,  they  would  easily  be  able  to  distinguish  them  from  other 
truths,  that  they  afterward  learned,  and  deduced  from  them ; 
and  there  would  be  nothing  more  easy  than  to  know  what,  and 
how  many  they  were.  There  could  be  no  more  doubt  about 
their  number  than  there  is  about  the  number  of  our  fingers  ;  and 
it  is  like  then  every  system  would  be  ready  to  give  them  us  by 
tale.  But  since  nobody,  that  I  know,  has  yet  ventured  to  give 
a  catalogue  of  them,  they  cannot  blame  those  who  doubt  of 
these  innate  principles ;  since  even  they  who  require  men  to 
believe  that  there  are  such  innate  propositions,  do  not  tell  us 
what  they  are.  It  is  easy  to  foresee,  that  if  different  men  of  dif- 
ferent sects  should  go  about  to  give  us  a  list  of  those  innate  prac- 
tical principles,  they  would  set  down  only  such  as  suited  their 
distinct  hypotheses,  and  were  fit  to  support  the  doctrines  of  their 
particular  schools  or  churches  ;  a  plain  evidence  that  there  are 
no  such  innate  truths.  Nay,  a  great  part  of  men  are  so  far  from 
finding  any  such  innate  moral  principles  in  themselves,  that  by 
denying  freedom  to  mankind,  and  thereby  making  men  no  other 
than  bare  machines,  they  take  away  not  only  innate  but  all  moral 
rules  whatsoever,  and  leave  not  a  possibility  to  believe  any  such, 
to  those  who  cannot  conceive  how  any  thing  can  be  capable  of  a 
law  that  is  not  a  free  agent;  and,  upon  that  ground,  they  must 
necessarily  reject  all  principles  of  virtue,  who  cannot  put  mo- 
rality and  mechanism  together ;  which  are  not  very  easy  to  be 
reconciled  or  made  consistent. 

§    15.    LORD  HERBERT'S  INNATE  PRINCIPLES  EXAMINED. 

When  I  had  writ  this,  being  informed  that  my  lord  Herbert 
had,  in  his  book  De  Veritate,  assigned  these  innate  principles,  I 
presently  consulted  him,  hoping  to  find,  in  a  man  of  so  great 
parts,  something  that  might  satisfy  me  in  this  point,  and  put  an 
end  to  my  inquiry.  In  his  chapter  de  Instinctu  Naturali,  p.  72. 
edit.  1650,  I  met  with  these  six  marks  of  his  Notitice  Commune*  : 
1.  Prioritas.  2-  Indrpendentia.  3.  Universalitas.  4.  Certi- 
tudo.  5.  Kecessilas,  i.  e.  as  he  explains  it,  faciunt  ad  hornini>- 
conservationem.  G.  Modus  conformationis,  i.  e.  Assensus  nulla 
irtt'erpositd  mora.  And  at  the  latter  end  of  his  little  treatise,  Dc 
Religione  Laid,  he  says  this  of  these  innate  principles:  Adeo  id 
noil  uniuscujusvis  rdigionis  confinio  arctentur  qua.  ubique  vigenl 
xcritates.  Sunt  enim  in  ipsa  mcnle  ccclilus  descriptor,  nullisquc 
traditionibus,  sivc  scriptis,  sive  non  scriptis,  obnoxice,  p.  3.  And 
T\ rilat/s  uostrie  catholica>  quas  lanquam indubia  Dei  cjfata  inforo 
■interiori  descriptor.  Thus  having  given  the  marks  of  the  innate 
principles  or  common  notions,  and  asserted  their  being  printed 
on  the  minds  of  men  by  the  hand  of  God,  he  proceeds  to  sen 
them  down ;  and  they  are  these:  1.  Esse  aliquod  dupremum 
'iumert*     :y-  Numcn  Hind  coli  debere.     ->.    Virtuterni  dum  " 


CII.  UI.j  NO  INNATE  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES'.  85 

conjvnctam  optimam  esse  ralionem  cullus  dirini.  4.  Resijnscen- 
dum  esse  a  pecatis.  o.  J)ari  premium  xcl  pcenam  post  hanc  vi- 
tam  transactam.  Though  I  allow  these  to  be  clear  truths,  and 
such  as,  if  rightly  explained,  a  rational  creature  can  hardly  avoid 
giving  his  assent  to  ;  yet  I  think  he  is  far  from  proving  them  innate 
impressions  inforo  inlcriori  descriptor.  For  I  must  take  leave  to 
observe, 

First,  that  these  live  propositions  are  either  not  all,  or  more 
than  all,  those  common  notions  writ  on  our  minds  by  the  finger 
of  God,  if  it  were  reasonable  to  believe  any  at  all  to  be  so  writ- 
ten :  since  there  are  other  propositions,  which,  even  by  his  own 
rules,  have  as  just  a  pretence  to  such  an  original,  and  may  be  as 
well  admitted  for  innate  principles,  as  at  least  some  of  these  five 
he  enumerates,  viz.  "  do  as  thou  wouldst  be  done  unto  ;"  and 
perhaps  some  hundreds  of  others,  when  well  considered. 

§17, 

Secondly,  that  all  his  marks  are  not  to  be  found  in  each  of  his' 
five  propositions,  viz.  his  first,  second,  and  third  marks  agree 
perfectly  to  neither  of  them;  and  the  first,  second,  third,  fourth, 
and  sixth  marks  agree  but  ill  to  his  third,  fourth,  and  fifth  propo- 
sitions. For  besides  that  we  are  assured  from  history  of  many 
men,  nay,  whole  nations,  who  doubt  or  disbelieve  some  or  all  of 
them,  I  cannot  see  how  the  third,  viz.  "  that  virtue  joined  with 
piety  is  the  best  worship  of  God,"  can  be  an  innate  principle, 
when  the  name  or  sound,  virtue,  is  so  hard  to  be  understood  ; 
liable  to  so  much  uncertainty  in  its  signification  :  and  the  thing  it 
stands  for  so  much  contended  about,  and  difficult  to  be  known. 
And  therefore  this  cannot  but  be  a  very  uncertain  rule  of  human 
practice,  and  serve  but  very  little  to  the  conduct  of  our  lives, 
and  is  therefore  very  unfit  to  be  assigned  as  au  innate  practical 
principle. 

£??\ 

For  let  us  consider  this  proposition  as  to  its  meaning  (for  it  is 

the  sense,  and  not  sound,  that  is  and  must  be  the  principle 
or  common  notion,)  viz.  "  virtue  is  the  best  worship  of  God  ;" 
;.  e«  is  most  acceptable  to  him;  which,  if  virtue  be  taken,  as 
most  commonly  it  is,  for  those  actions  which,  according  to  the 
different  opinions  of  several  countries,  are  accounted  laudable, 
will  be  a  proposition  so  far  from  being  certain,  that  it  will  not 
be  true.  If  virtue  be  taken  for  actions  conformable  to  God's 
will,  or  to  the  rule  prescribed  by  God,  which  is  the  true  and  only 
measure  of  virtue,  when  virtue  is  used  to  signify  what  is  in  its 
own  nature  right  and  good  :  then  this  proposition,  "  that  virtue  i- 
the  best  worship  of  God.*1  will  be  most  true  and  certain,  but  of 
very  little  use  in  human  life:  since,  it  will  amount  to  no  more 
"but  this,  viz?.   "that'Gtfc!  is  pleased  with  the  doing  of  what  hi 


86  _\0  INNATE  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES.  [liOOK  I. 

commands ;"  which  a  man  may  certainly  know  to  be  true,  without 
knowing  what  it  is.  that  God  doth  command ;  and  so  be  as  far 
from  any  rule  or  principle  of  his  actions  as  he  was  before. 
And  I  think  very  few  will  take  a  proposition  which  amounts  to 
no  more  than  this,  viz.  that  God  is  pleased  with  the  doing  of 
what  he  himself  commands,  for  an  innate  moral  principle  writ 
on  the  minds  of  all  men  (however  true  and  certain  it  may  be,) 
since  it  teaches  so  little.  Whosoever  does  so,  will  have  reason 
to  think  hundreds  of  propositions  innate  principles  ;  since  there 
are  many  which  have  as  good  a  title  to  be  received  for  such, 
which  nobody  yet  ever  put  into  that  rank  of  innate  principles. 

§  19. 
Nor  is  the  fourth  proposition  (viz.  i:  men  must  repent  of  their 
sins")  much  more  instructive,  till  those  actions  are,  that  are 
meant  by  sins,  be  set  down.     For  the  word  peccata,  or  sins,  being 
put,  as  it  usually  is,  to  signify  in  general  ill  actions,  that  will  draw 
punishment  upon  the  doers,  what  great  principle  of  morality  can 
that  be,  to  tell  us  we  should  be  sorry,  and  cease  to  do  that  which 
will  bring  mischief  upon  us,  without  knowing  what  those  parti- 
cular actions  are,  that  will  do  so  ?     Indeed,  this  is  a  very  true 
proposition,  and  fit  to  be  inculcated  on,  and  received  by  those, 
who  are  supposed  to  have  been  taught,  what  actions  in  all  kinds 
are  sins  ;  but  neither  this  nor  the  former  can  be  imagined  to  be 
innate  principles,  nor  to  be  of  any  use,    if  they  were  innate, 
unless  the  particular  measures  and  bounds  of  all  virtues  and  vices, 
were  engraven  in  men's  minds,  and  were  innate  principles  also; 
which  I  think  is  very  much  to  be  doubted.     And  therefore,  1 
imagine,  it  will  scarce  seem  possible  that  God  should  engrave 
principles  in  men's  minds,  in  words  of  uncertain  signification, 
such  as  virtues  and  sins,  which,  among  different  men,  stand  for 
different  things ;  nay,  it  cannot  be  supposed  to  be  in  words  at  all : 
which,  being  in  most  of  these  principles  very  general  names, 
cannot  be  understood,  but  by  knowing  the  particulars  compre- 
hended under  them.     And  in  the  practical  instances,  the  mea- 
sures must  be  taken  from  the  knowledge  of  the  actions  themselves, 
and  the  rules  of  them,  abstracted  from  words,  and  antecedent  to 
the  knowledge  of  names  ;  which  rules  a  man  must  know,  what 
language  soever  he  chance  to  learn,  whether  English  or  Japan, 
or  if  he  should  learn  no  language  at  all,  or  never  should  under- 
stand the  use  of  words,  as  happens  in  the  case  of  dumb  and  deaf 
men.     When  it  shall  be  made  out  that  men  ignorant  of  words,  or 
untaught  by  the  laws  and  customs  of  their  country,  know  that  it 
is  part  of  the  worship  of  God  not  to  kill  another  man ;  or  to 
know  more  women  than  one  ;  not  to  procure  abortion  ;  not  to 
expose  their  children ;   not  to  take  from  another  what  is  his, 
iliough  we  want  it  ourselves,  but,  on  the  contrary,  relieve  and 
supply  his  wants ;  and  whenever  we  have  done  to  the  contrarv 
we  ought  to  repent,  be  sorry,  and  resolve  to  dp  so  no  more  : 
when,  {  suv,  all  men  shall  be  proved  actually  to  know  and  allow 


CH.  IXI.3  NO  (tfXATE  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLED.  87 

all  these,  and  a  thousand  other  such  rules,  all  which  come  under 
these  two  general  words  made  use  of  above,  viz.  "  virtutcs  et 
peccata,"  virtues  and  sins,  there  will  be  more  reason  for  admit- 
ting these  and  the  like  for  common  notions  and  practical  princi- 
ples. Yet,  after  all.  universal  consent  (were  there  any  in  moral 
principles)  to  truths,  the  knowledge  whereof  may  be  attained 
otherwise,  would  scarce  prove  them  innate  ;  which  is  all  I  con- 
tend for. 

§  20.    OEJ.-r-lNNATC  PRINCIPLES  MAY  BE  CORRUPTED,  ANSWERED. 

Nor  will  it  be  of  much  moment  here  to  offer  that  very  ready, 
but  not  very  material  answer,  (viz.)  that  the  innate  principles  of 
morality  may,  by  education  and  custom,  and  the  general  opinion 
of  those  among  whom  we  converse,  he  darkened,  and  at  last 
quite  worn  out  of  the  minds  of  men.     Which  assertion  of  theirs, 
if  true,  quite  takes  away  the  argument  of  universal  consent,  by 
which  this  opinion  of  innate  principles  is   endeavoured  to  be 
proved ;    unless  those  men  will  think  it  reasonable  that  their 
private  persuasions,  or  that  of  their  party,  should  pass  for  uni- 
versal consent:    a  thing  not  unfrequently    done,    when    men, 
presuming  themselves  to  be  the  only  masters  of  right  reason,  cast 
by  the  votes  and  opinions  of  the  rest  of  mankind  as  not  worthy 
the  reckoning.      And  then  their  argument  stands  thus :  "  the 
principles  which  all  mankind  allow  for  true  are  innate ;  those  that 
men  of   right  reason  admit,  are  the  principles  allowed  by  all 
mankind  ;  we,  and  those  of  our  mind,  are  men  of  reason  ;  there- 
fore we  agreeing,  our  principles  are  innate  ;"  which  is  a  very 
pretty  way   of   arguing,  and  a  short  cut  to  infallibility.      For 
otherwise  it  will  be  hard  to  understand,  how  there  be  some  prin- 
ciples which  all  men  do  acknowledge  and  agree  in  ;  and  yet  there 
are  none  of  those  principles,  which  are  not  by  depraved  custom 
and  ill  education  blotted  out  of  the  minds  of  many  men  ;  which 
is  to  say,  that  all  men   admit,  but  yet  many  men  do  deny  and 
dissent  from  them.     And  indeed  the  supposition  of  such  first 
principles  will  serve  us  to  very  little  purpose  ;  and  we  shall  be 
as  much  at  a  loss  with  as  without  them,  if  they  may,  by  any 
human  power,  such  as  the  will  of  our  teachers,  or  opinions  of  our 
companions,  be  altered  or  lost  in  us  :  and  notwithstanding  all  this 
boast  of  first  principles  and  innate  light,  we  shall  be  as  much  in 
the  dark  and  uncertainty,  as  if  there  were  no  such  thing  at  all : 
it  being  all  one,  to  have  no  rule,  and  one  that  will  warp  any  way; 
or,  among  various  and  contrary  rules,  not  to  know  which  is  the 
right.     But  concerning  innate  principles,  i  desire  these  men  to 
say,  whether  they  can,  or  cannot,  by  education  and  custom,  be 
blurred  and  blotted  out:  if  they  cannot,  we  must  find  them  in  all 
mankind  alike,  and  they  must  be  clear  in  every  body  :  and  if 
ihey  may  suffer  variation  from  adventitious  notions,  we  must  then 
find  them  clearest  and  most  perspicuous,  nearest  the  fountain,  in 
children  and  illiterate  people,  who  have  received  least  impression 
from  foreign  opinions.     Let  them  take  which  side  they  please. 


ii8  KO  INNATE  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES.  [BOOK.  I. 

they  will  certainly  find  it  inconsistent  with  visible  matter  of  fact 
and  daily  observation. 

§  21.  CONTRARY  PRINCIPLES  IN   THE  WORLD. 

I  easily  grant  that  there  are  great  numbers  of  opinions,  which 
by  men  of  different  countries,  educations,  and  tempers,  are  re- 
ceived and  embraced  as  iirst  and  unquestionable  principles;  many 
whereof,  both  for  their  absurdity,  as  well  as  oppositions  to  one 
another,  it  is  impossible  should  be  true.  But  yet  all  those  propo- 
sitions, how  remote  soever  from  reason,  are  so  sacred  somewhere 
or  other,  that  men,  even  of  good  understanding  in  other  matters, 
will  sooner  part  with  their  lives,  and  whatever  is  dearest  to  them, 
than  suffer  themselves  to  doubt,  or  others  to  question,  the  truth 
of  them. 

•     §  22.    HOW  MEN  COMMONLY  COME  BY  THEIR  PRINCIPLES. 

This,  however  strange  it  may  seem,  is  that  which  every  day's 
experience  confirms  ;  and  will  not,  perhaps,  appear  so  wonderful, 
if  we  consider  the  ways  and  steps  by  which  it  is  brought  about ; 
and  how  really  it  may  come  to  pass,  that  doctrines  that  have  been 
derived  from  no  better  original  than  the  superstition  of  a  nurse, 
or  the  authority  of  an  old  woman,  may,  by  length  of  time,  and 
consent  of  neighbours,  grow  up  to  the  dignity  of  principles  in 
religion  or  morality.  For  such  who  are  careful  (as  they  call  it) 
to  principle  children  well  (and  few  there  be  who  have  not  a  set 
of  those  principles  for  them,  which  they  believe  in)  instil  into 
the  unwary,  and  as  yet  unprejudiced  understanding  (for  white 
paper  receives  any  characters,)  those  doctrines  they  would  have 
them  retain  and  profess.  These  being  taught  them  as  soon  as 
they  have  any  apprehension  ;  and  still  as  they  grow  up  confirmed 
to  them,  either  by  the  open  profession  or  tacit  consent,  of  all 
they  have  to  do  with :  or  at  least  by  those,  of  whose  wisdom, 
knowledge,  and  piety,  they  have  an  opinion,  who  never  suffer 
these  propositions  to  be  otherwise  mentioned,  but  as  the  basis 
and  foundation  on  which  they  build  their  religion  and  manners  j 
come,  by  these  means,  to  have  the  reputation  of  unquestionable, 
self-evident,  and  innate  truths. 

§23. 
To  which  we  may  add,  that  when  men,  so  instructed,  are 
grown  up,  and  reflect  on  their  own  minds,  they  cannot  find  any- 
thing more  ancient  there  than  those  opinions  which  were  taught 
them  before  their  memory  began  to  keep  a  register  of  their 
actions,  date  the  time  when  any  new  thing  appeared  to  them  ; 
and  therefore  make  no  scruple  to  conclude,  that  those  proposi- 
tions, of  whose  knowledge  they  can  find  in  themselves  no  original, 
were  certainly  the  impress  of  God  and  nature  upon  their  minds, 
and  not  taught  them  by  any  one  else.  These  they  entertain  and 
submit  to,  as  many  do  to  their  parents,  with  veneration ;  not 
because  h  is  natural  {  nor  do  children  d^  it.  where  thev  are  not 


CH.   III.j  NO  INSATfi  PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES.  39 

so  taught ;  but  because,  having  been  always  so  educated,  and 
having  no  remembrance  of  the  beginning  of  this  respect,  they 
think  it  is  natural. 

§24. 

This  will  appear  very  likely,  and  almost  unavoidably  to  come 
to  pass,  if  we  consider  the  nature  of  mankind,  and  the  constitu- 
tion of  human  affairs  ;  wherein  most  men  cannot  live  without 
employing  their  time  in  the  daily  labours  of  their  callings  :  nor 
be  at  quiet  in  their  minds  without  some  foundation  or  principle 
to  rest  their  thoughts  on.  There  is  scarce  any  one  so  floating 
and  superficial  in  his  understanding,  who  hath  not  some  reverenced 
propositions,  which  arc  to  him  the  principles  on  which  he  bottoms 
his  reasonings  ;  and  by  which  he  judgeth  of  truth  and  falsehood, 
right  and  wrong  :  which  some,  wanting  skill  and  leisure,  and 
others  the  inclination,  and  some  being  taught  that  they  ought 
not  to  examine,  they  are  few  to  be  found  who  are  not  exposed 
by  their  ignorance,  laziness,  education,  or  precipitancy,  to  take 
them  upon  trust. 

§25. 

This  is  evidently  the  case  of  all  children  and  young  folk;  and 
custom,  a  greater  power  than  nature,  seldom  failing  to  make  them 
worship  for  divine  what  she  hath  inured  them  to  bow  their  minds 
and  submit  their  understandings  to,  it  is  no  wonder  that  grown 
men,  either  perplexed  in  the  necessary  affairs  of  life,  or  hot  in 
the  pursuit  of  pleasures,  should  not  seriously  sit  down  to  examine 
their  own  tenets  ;  especially  when  one  of  their  principles  is,  that 
principles  ought  not  to  be  questioned.     And  had  men  leisure, 
parts,  and  will,  who  is  there  almost  that  dare  shake  the  founda- 
tions of  all  his  past  thoughts  and  actions,  and  endure  to  bring 
upon  himself  the  shame  of  having  been  a  long  time  wholly  in 
mistake  and  error  ?     Who  is  there  hardy  enough  to  contend  with 
the  reproach  which  is  every  where  prepared  for  those  who  dare 
venture  to  dissent  from  the  received  opinions  of  their  country 
or  party  ?     And  where  is  the  man  to  be  found  that  can  patiently 
prepare  himself  to  bear  the  name  of  whimsical,  skeptical,  or 
atheist,  which  he  is  sure  to  meet  with,  who  does  in  the  least 
scruple  any  of  the  common  opinions  ?     And  he  will  be  much 
more  afraid  to  question  those  principles,  when  he  shall  think  them, 
as  most  men  do,  the  standards  set  up  by  God  in  his  mind,  to  be 
the  rule  and  touchstone  of  all  other  opinions.     And  what  can 
hinder  him  from  thinking  them  sacred,  when  he  finds  them  the 
earliest  of  all  his  own  thoughts,  and  the  most  reverenced  by 
others. 

§26. 

It  is  easy  to  imagine  how  by  these  means  it  comes  to  pass  that 
men  worship  the  idols  that  have  been  set  up  in  their  minds ; 
grow  fond  of  the  notions  they  have  long  been  acquainted  with 

Vol,  I,  12 


90  NO  INNATE' PRACTICAL  PRINCIPLES:  [_BOOK   !■> 

(here ;  and  stamp  the  characters  of  divinity  upon  absurdities 
and  errors ;  become  zealous  votaries  to  bulls  and  monkeys  ; 
and  contend  too,  fight,  and  die  in  defence  of  their  opinions  ; 
"  Dum  solos  credit  habendos  esse  deos,  quos  ipse  colit."  For 
since  the  "reasoning  faculties  of  the  soul,  which  are  almost  con- 
stantly, though  not  always  warily  nor  wisely,  employed,  would 
not  know  how  to  move,  for  want  of  a  foundation  and  footing,  in 
most  men ;  who  through  laziness  or  avocation  do  not,  or  for 
want  of  time,  or  true  helps,  or  for  other  causes,  cannot  penetrate 
into  the  principles  of  knowledge,  and  trace  truth  to  its  fountain 
and  original;  it  is  natural  for  them,  and  almost  unavoidable,  to 
take  up  with  some  borrowed  principles  :  which  being  reputed 
and  presumed  to  be  the  evident  proofs  of  other  things,  are 
thought  not  to  need  any  other  proof  themselves.  Whoever  shall 
receive  any  of  these  into  his  mind,  and  entertain  them  there, 
with  the  reverence  usually  paid  to  principles,  never  venturing 
to  examine  them,  but  accustoming  himself  to  believe  them,  be- 
cause they  are  to  be  believed,  may  take  up  from  his  education, 
and  the  fashions  of  his  country,  any  absurdity  for  innate  princi- 
ples ;  and  by  long  poring  on  the  same  objects,  to  dim  his  sight, 
as  to  take  monsters  lodged  in  his  own  brain  for  the  images  of  the 
Deity,  and  the  workmanship  of  his  hands. 

§  27.    PIUXCIl'LES  MUST  BE  EXAMINED. 

By  this  progress  how  many  there  are  who  arrive  at  principles 
which  they  believe  innate  may  be  easily  observed,  in  the  variety 
of  opposite  principles  held  and  contended  for  by  all  sorts  and 
degrees  of  men.  And  he  that  shall  deny  this  to  be  the  method 
wherein  most  men  proceed  to  the  assurance  they  have  of  the 
truth  and  evidence  of  their  principles,  will  perhaps  rind  it  a  hard 
matter  any  other  way  to  account  for  the  contrary  tenets  which 
are  firmly  believed,  confidently  asserted,  and  which  great  num- 
bers are  ready  at  any  time  to  seal  with  their  blood.  And,  indeed, 
if  it  be  the  privilege  of  innate  principles  to  be  received  upon 
their  own  authority,  without  examination,  I  know  not  what  may 
not  be  believed,  or  how  any  one's  principles  can  be  questioned, 
if  they  may  and  ought  to  be  examined,  and  tried,  I  desire  to 
know  how  first  and  innate  principles  can  be  tried  ;  or  at  least  it 
is  reasonable  to  demand  the  marks  and  characters,  whereby  the 
genuine  innate  principles  may  be  distinguished  from  others  ;  that 
so,  amidst  the  great  variety  of  pretenders,  1  may  be  kept  from 
mistakes,  in  so  material  a  point  as  this.  When  this  is  done,  I 
shall  be  ready  to  embrace  such  welcome  and  useful  propositions ; 
and  till  then  I  may  with  modesty  doubt,  since  I  fear  universal 
consent,  which  is  the  only  one  produced,  will  scarce  prove  a 
sufficient  mark  to  direct  my  choice,  and  assure  me  of  any  innate 
principles.  From  what  has  been  said,  I  think  it  past  doubt  that 
there  are  no  practical  principles  wherein  all  men  agree,  apd 
therefore'  rrone  innate.. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OTHER  CONSIDERATIONS  CONCERNING  INNATE  PRINCIPLES 
BOTH  SPECULATIVE   WD  PRACTICAL. 

§   1.    PRINCIPLES  NOT  INNATE,  UNLESS  THEIR  IDEAS  BE  INNATE. 

Had  those  who  would  persuade  us  that  there  arc  innate  prin- 
ciples not  taken  them  together  in  dross,  but  considered  sepa- 
rately the  parts  out  of  which  those  propositions  are  made,  they 
would  not,  perhaps,  have  been  so  forward  to  believe  they  were 
innate:  since,  if  the  ideas  which  made  up  those. truths  were 
not,  it  was  impossible  that  the  propositions  made  up  of  them 
should  be  innate,  or  the  knowledge  of  them  be  born  with  us. 
For  if  the  ideas  be  not  innate,  there  was  a  time  when  the  mind 
was  without  those  principles  ;  and  then  they  will  not  be  innate, 
but  be  derived  from  some  other  original.  For  where  the  ideas 
themselves  are  not,  there  can  be  no  knowledge,  no  assent,  no 
mental  or  verbal  propositions  about  them. 

§  ~.    IDEAS,  ESPECIALLY     THOSE    BELONGING  TO  PRINCIPLES,  NOT  BORN 
WITH  CHILDREN. 

]f  we  will  attentively  consider  new-born  children,  we  shall 
have  little  reason  to  think  that  they  bring  many  ideas  into  the 
world  with  them.  For  bating  perhaps  some  faint  ideas  of  hun- 
ger and  thirst,  and  warmth,  and  some  pains  which  they  may  have 
felt  in  the  womb,  there  is  not  the  least  appearance  of  any  settled 
ideas  at  all  in  them  ;  especially  of  ideas,  answering  the  terms 
which  make  up  those  universal  propositions,  that  are  esteemed 
innate  principles.  One  may  perceive  how,  by  degrees,  after- 
ward, ideas  come  into  their  minds  ;  and  that  they  get  no  more, 
nor  no  other,  than  what  experience,  and  the  observation  of  things 
that  come  in  their  way,  furnish  them  with  :  which  might  be 
enough  to  satisfy  us  that  they  are  not  original  characters  stamped 
on  the  mind. 

Ci  It  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be,"  is 
•  ertainly  (if  there  be  any  such)  an  innate  principle.  But  can 
any  one  think,  or  will  any  one  say,  that  impossibility  and  identity, 
are  two  innate  ideas  ?  Are  they  such  as  all  mankind  have,  and 
bring  into  the  world  with  them  ?  And  are  they  those  which  are 
the  first  in  children,  and  antecedent  to  all  acquired  ones  ?  If  they 
are  innate,  they  must  needs  be  so  ?  Hath  a  child  an  idea  of  im- 
possibility and  identity  before  it  has  of  white  or  black,  sweet  or 
bitter  ?  And  is  it  from  the  knowledge  of  this  principle  that  it 
concludes,  that  wormwood  rubbed  on  the  nipple  hath  not  the. 
same  taste  that  it  used  to  receive  from  thence  ?  Is  it  the  actual 
knowledge  of   "  impossibile  est  idem  esse,  ef.  noa  esse,"  that 


9£  no  innate  principles.  [booki. 

makes  a  child  distinguish  between  its  mother  and  a  stranger  ?  or 
that  makes  it  fond  of  the  one  and  fly  the  other  ?  Or  does  the 
mind  regulate  itself  and  its  assent  by  ideas  that  it  never  yet  had  ? 
or  the  understanding  draw  conclusions  from  principles  which  it 
never  yet  knew  nor  understood  ?  The  names  impossibility  and 
identity  stand  for  two  ideas,  so  far  from  being  innate,  or  born 
with  us,  that  1  think  it  requires  great  care  and  attention  to  form 
them  right  in  our  understandings.  They  are  so  far  from  being 
brought  into  the  world  with  us,  so  remote  from  the  thoughts  of 
infancy  and  childhood,  that  I  believe,  upon  examination  it  will 
be  found,  that  many  grown  men  want  them. 

§  4.  IDENTITY,  AN  IDEA  NOT  INNATE. 

If  identity  (to  instance  in  that  alone)  be  a  native  impression, 
and  consequently  so  clear  and  obvious  to  us,  that  we  must  needs 
know  it  even  from  our  cradles,  I  would  gladly  be  resolved  by 
one  of  seven,  or  seventy  years  old,  whether  a  man,  being  a  crea- 
ture consisting  of  soul  and  body,  be  the  same  man  when  his  body 
is  changed.  "Whether  Euphorbus  and  Pythagoras,  having  had  the 
same  soul,  were  the  same  men,  though  they  lived  several  ages 
usunder?  Nay,  whether  the  cock  too,  which  had  the  same 
soul,  were  not  the  same  with  both  of  them  ?  Whereby,  perhaps, 
it  will  appear  that  our  idea  of  sameness  is  not  so  settled  and  clear 
as  to  deserve  to  be  thought  innate  in  us.  For  if  those  innate  ideas 
are  not  clear  and  distinct,  so  as  to  be  universally  known,  and 
naturally  agreed  on,  they  cannot  be  subjects  of  universal  and 
undoubted  truths ;  but  will  be  the  unavoidable  occasion  of  per- 
•  petual  uncertainty.  For,  I  suppose,  every  one's  idea  of  identity 
will  not  be  the  same  that  Pythagoras  and  others  of  his  followers 
have:  And  which  then  shall  be  true ?  Which  innate?  Or  are 
there  two  different  ideas  of  identity,  both  innate? 

§5. 

Nor  let  any  one  think  that  the  questions  I  have  here  proposed 
about  the  identity  of  man,  are  bare  empty  speculations  ;  which  if 
they  were,  would  be  enough  to  show  that  there  was  in  the  under- 
standings of  men  no  innate  idea  of  identity.  He  that  shall,  with 
a  little  attention,  reflect  on  the  resurrection,  and  consider  that 
divine  justice  will  bring  to  judgment,  at  the  last  day,  the  very 
same  persons,  to  be  happy  or  miserable  in  the  other,  who  did  well 
or  ill  in  this  life,  will  rind  it  perhaps  not  easy  to  resolve  with  him- 
self what  makes  the  same  man.  or  wherein  identity  consists :  and 
will  not  be  forward  to  think  he,  and  every  one,  even  children 
themselves,  have  naturally  a  clear  idea  of  it. 

§  6.    WHOLE  AND  PART  NOT  INNATE  IDEAS. 

Let  us  examine  that  principle  of  mathematics,  viz.  "  that  the 
whole  is  bigger  than  a  part.''  This,  I  take  it,  is  reckoned 
among  innate  principles.      1  am  sure  it  has  as  good  a   title  as 


<  II.  IV.]  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES.  93 

any  to  be  thought  so  ;  which  yet  nobody  can  think  it  to  be,  when 
he  considers  the  ideas  it  comprehends  in  it,  "  whole  and  part," 
are  perfectly  relative  ;  but  the  positive  ideas,  to  which  they  pro- 
perly and  immediately  belong,  are  extension  and  number,  of 
which  alone  whole  and  part  arc  relations.  So  that  if  whole  and 
part  are  innate  ideas,  extension  and  number  must  be  so  too  ;  it 
being  impossible  to  have  an  idea  of  a  relation,  without  having 
any  at  all  of  the  thing  to  which  it  belongs,  and  in  which  it  is 
founded.  Now  whether  the  minds  of  men  have  naturally  im- 
printed on  them  the  ideas  of  extension  and  number,  I  leave  to 
be  considered  by  those  who  are  the  patrons  of  innate  principles. 

§  7.    IDEA  OF  WORSHIP   NOT   INNATE. 

"  That  God  is  to  be  worshipped^"  is.  without  doubt,  as  great  a 
truth  as  any  can  enter  into  the  mind  of  man,  and  deserves  the 
first  place  among  all  practical  principles.  But  yet  it  can  by  no 
means  be  thought  innate,  unless  the  ideas  of  God  and  worship 
arc  innate.  That  the  idea  the  term  worship  stands  for  is  not  in 
ihe  understanding  of  children,  and  a  character  stamped  on  the 
mind  in  its  first  original,  I  think,  will  be  easily  granted  by  any 
one  that  considers  how  tew  there  be,  among  grown  men,  who 
have  a  clear  and  distinct  notion  of  it.  And,  I  suppose,  there 
cannot  be  any  thing  more  ridiculous  than  to  say  that  children 
have  this  practical  principle  innate,  "that  God  is  to  be  worship- 
ped ;"  and  yet,  that  they  know  not  what  that  worship  of  God  is, 
which  is  their  duty.     But  to  pass  by  this: 

§  8.    IDEA  OF  GOD   NOT   INNATE. 

If  any  idea  can  be  imagined  innate,  the  idea  of  God  may,  of 
all  others,  for  many  reasons,  be  thought  so  ;  since  it  is  hard  to 
conceive  how  there  should  be  innate  moral  principles  without  an 
innate  idea  of  a  Deity  :  without  a  notion  of  a  lawmaker,  it  is 
impossible  to  have  a  notion  of  a  law,  and  an  obligation  to  observe 
it.  Besides  the  atheists  taken  notice  of  among  the  ancients,  and 
left  branded  upon'the  records  of  history,  hath  not  navigation  dis- 
covered, in  these  later  ages,  whole  nations,  at  the  ba\  of  Soldania, 
(a)  in  Brazil, (4)  in  Boranday,fc)  and  in  the  Caribee  islands, 
&c.  among  whom  there  was  to  be  found  no  notion  of  a  God,  no 
religion  ?  Nicholaus  del  Techo  in  literis,  ex  Paraquaria  de  Caai- 
guarum  conversione,  has  these  words  :(d)  "Reperi  earn  gentem 
nullum  nomen habere,  quod  Deum  et  hominis  animam  signiricet, 
nulla  sacra  habet,  nulla  idola."  These  are  instances  of  nations 
where  uncultivated  nature  has  been  left  to  itself,  without  the 
help  of  letters,  and  discipline,  and  the  improvements  of  arts  and 
sciences.     But  there  are  others  to  be  found,  who  have  enjoyed 

(a)  Roe  apud  Thevenot,  p. '_'.  (J>)  Jo.  de  Lery,  c.  16. 

(<•)  Mavtmiere!f£.  Terry  ^  and  -/fa.  Ovingtoli  ,'  § ,' . 

'.<>   Relatio  triplex  de  rebus   [nda  ruarum^- 


94  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES.  [BOOK  I. 

these  in  a  very  great  measure  ;  who  yet,  for  want  of  a  due  ap 
plication  of  their  thoughts  this  way,  want  the  idea  and  knowledge 
of  God.  It  will,  I  doubt  not,  be  a  surprise  to  others,  as  it  was 
to  me,  to  find  the  Siamites  of  this  number.  But  for  this  let  them 
consult  the  king  of  France's  late  envoy  thither.(e)  who  gives  no 
better  account  of  the  Chinese  themselves.  (/)  And  if  we  will 
not  believe  La  Loubere,  the  missionaries  of  China,  even  the  Je- 
suits themselves,  the  great  encomiasts  of  the  Chinese,  do  all  to  a 
man  agree,  and  will  convince  us  that  the  sect  of  the  literati,  or 
learned,  keeping  to  the  old  religion  of  China,  and  the  ruling  party 
there,  are  all  of  them  atheists.  Vid.  Navarette,  in  the  collection 
of  voyages,  vol.  the  first,  and  Historia  cultus  Sinensium.  And 
perhaps  if  we  should,  with  attention,  mind  the  lives  and  dis- 
courses of  people  not  so  far  off,  we  should  have  too  much  reason 
to  fear,  that  many  in  more  civilized  countries  have  no  very  strong 
and  clear  impressions  of  a  deity  upon  their  minds  ;  and  that 
the  complaints  of  atheism,  made  from  the  pulpit,  are  not  without 
reason.  And  though  only  some  profligate  wretches  own  it  too 
barefacedly  now ;  yet  perhaps  we  should  hear  more  than  we  do 
of  it  from  others,  did  not  the  fear  of  the  magistrate's  sword,  or 
their  neighbour's  censure,  tie  up  people's  tongues  :  which,  were 
the  apprehensions  of  punishment  or  shame  taken  away,  would  as 
openly  proclaim  their  atheism,  as  their  lives  do.  (2) 

(e)  La  Loubere  du  Royaume  Je  Siam,  t.  1,  c.  9,  sect.  15,  and  c.  20,  seel.  22, 
ande.  22,  sect.  6. 

(f)  lb.  1. 1,  c.  20,  sect.  4,  andc.  23. 

(2)  On  this  reasoning  of  the  author  against  innate  ideas,  great  blame  hath  been 
"iaid  ;  because  it  seems  to  invalidate  an  argument  commonly  used  to  prove  the 
bein<"  of  a  God,  viz.  universal  consent :  to  which  our  author  answers,*  I  think 
that  the  universal  consent  of  mankind,  as  to  the  being  of  a  God,  amounts  to  thus 
much,  that  the  vastly  greater  majority  of  mankind  have  in  all  ages  of  the  world 
actually  believed  a  God ;  that  the  majority  of  the  remaining  part  have  not 
actually  disbelieved  it ;  and  consequently  those  who  have  actually  opposed 
(he  belief  of  a  God  have  truly  been  very  few.  So  that  comparing  those  that 
huve  actually  disbelieved,  with  those  who  have  actually  believed  a  God,  their 
number  is  so  inconsiderable,  that  in  respect  of  this  incomparably  greater  majority, 
of  those  who  have  owned  the  belief  of  a  God, it  may  be  said  to  be  the  universal 
consent  of  mankind. 

This  is  all  the  universal  consent  which  truth  or  matter  of  fact  will  allow  ; 
and  therefore  all  that  can  be  made  use  of  to  prove  a  God.  But  if  any  one 
would  extend  it  farther,  and  speak  deceitfully  for  God  ;  if  this  universality 
should  be  urged  in  a  strict  sense,  not  for  much  the  majority,  but  for  a  gene- 
ral consent  of  every  one,  even  to  a  man,  in  all  ages  and  countries  ;  this  would 
make  it  either  no  argument,  or  a  perfectly  useless  and  unnecessary  one.  For  if 
any  one  deny  a  God,  such  a  universality  of  consent  is  destroyed;  and  if  nobody 
does  deny  a  God,  what  need  of  arguments  to  convince  atheists  ? 

I  would  crave  leave  to  ask  your  lordship,  were  there  ever  in  the  world  any 
utheists  or  no  ?  If  there  were  not,  what  need  is  thereof  raising  a  question  about 
the  bein"-  of  a  God,  when  nobody  questions  it  ?  What  need  of  provisional  argu- 
ments against  a  fault,  from  which  mankind  are  so.  wholly  free,  and  which,  by  a 
universal  consent,  they  may  be  presumed  to  be  secure  from?  If  you  say,  (as  I 
doubt  not  but  you  will)  that  there  have  been  atheists  in  the  world,  then  your 
lordship's  universal  consent  reduces  itself  to  only  a  great  majority ;  and  then 
make  that  majority  as  great  as  you  will,  what  I  have  said  in  the  place  quoted  by 

•  In  his  third  letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Worcester. 


■■  jl.  IV.  j  NO  INNATE  PUINC1PLL-  95 

ft  0. 

But  had  all  mankind,  every  where,  a  notion  of  a  God,  (where 
yet  history  tells  us  the  contrary)  it  would  not  from  thence  follow 
that  the  idea  of  him  was  innate.  For  though  no  nation  were  to 
be  found  without  a  name,  and  some  few  dark  notions  of  him,  yet 

your  lordship  leave?  it  in  its  full  force  ;  and  I  have  not  said  one  word  that  does 
in  the  least  invalidate  this  argument  for.a  God.  The  argument  1  was  upon  there 
was  to  show,  that  the  idea  of  God  was  not  innate  ;  aud  to  my  purpose  it  was 
sufficient,  if  there  were  but  a  less  number  found  in  the  world,  who  had  no  ide;t 
of  God,  than  your  lordship  will  allow  there  have  been  of  professed  atheists ;  for 
whatsoever  is  innate  must  be  universal  in  the  strictest  sense.  One  exception  is 
a  sufficient  proof  against  it.  So  that  all  that  I  said,  and  which  was  quite  to  ano- 
ther purpose,  did  not  at  all  tend,  nor  can  be  made  use  of,  to  invalidate  the  argu- 
ment for  a  Deity,  grounded  on  such  a  universal  consent,  as  your  lordship,  and 
ull  that  build  on  it,  must  own  ;  which  is  only  a  very  disproportioned  majority  : 
Mich  a  universal  consent  my  argument  there  neither  affirms  nor  requires  to  be 
less  than  you  will  be  pleased  to  allow  it.  Your  lordship  therefore  might,  without 
any  prejudice  to  those  declarations  of  good-will  and  favour  you  have  for  the 
author  of  the  "Essay  of  Human  Understanding,"  have  spared  the  mentioning 
his  quoting  authors  that  are  in  print,  for  matters  of  fact  to  quite  another  purpose, 
"  as  going  about  to  invalidate  the  argument  for  a  Deity,  from  the  universal  con- 
sent of  mankind ;  since  he  leaves  that  universal  consent  as  entire  and  as  large 
as  you  yourself  do,  or  can  own,  or  suppose  it.  But  here  I  have  no  reason  to  be 
sorry  that  your  lordship  has  given  me  this  occasion  for  the  vindication  of  this 
passage  of  my  book  ;  if  there  should  be  any  one  besides  your  lordship,  who  should 
so  far  mistake  it,  as  to  think  it  in  the  least  invalidates  the  argument  for  a  God, 
from  the  universal  consent  of  mankind. 

But  because  you  question  the  credibility  of  those  authors  I  have  quoted,  which 
you  say  were  very  ill-chosen  ;  I  will  crave  leave  to  say,  that  he  whom!  relied  on 
for  his  testimony  concerning  the  Hottentots  of  Soldania,  was  no  less  a  man  than 
an  ambassador  from  the  king  of  England  to  the  Great  Mogul ;  of  whose  rela- 
i  ion,  Monsieur  Thevenot,  no  ill  judge  in  the  case,  had  so  great  an  esteem, 
that  he  was  at  the  pains  to  translate  into  French,  and  publish  it  in  his 
(which  is  counted  no  injudicious)  collection  of  Travels.  But  to  intercede  with 
your  lordship  for  a  little  more  favourable  allowance  of  credit  to  Sir  Thomas 
Hoe's  relation ;  Coorc,  an  inhabitant  of  the  country,  who  could  speak  English, 
assured  Mr.  Terry,*  that  they  of  Soldania  had  no  God.  But  if  he  too  have  the 
ill  luck  to  find  no  credit  with  you,  I  hope  you  will  be  a  little  more  favourable  to 
.i  divine  of  the  church  of  England,  now  living,  and  admit  of  his  testimony  in 
confirmation  of  Sir  Thomas  Roe's.  This  worthy  gentleman,  in  the  relation 
of  his  voyage  to  Surat,  printed  but  two  years  since,  speaking  of  the  same 
people,  has  these  words  :t  "  They  are  sunk  even  below  idolatry,  are  desti- 
tute of  both  priest  and  temple,  and  saving  a  little  show  of  rejoicing,  which 
is  made  at  the  full  and  new  moon,  have  lost  all  kind  of  religious  devotion. 
Nature  has  so  richly  provided  for  their  convenience  in  this  life,  that  they 
have  drowned  all  sense  of  the  God  of  it,  and  are  grown  quite  careless  of  the 
next."  . 

But  to  provide  against  the  clearest  evidence  of  atheism  in  these  people,  you 
?ny,  "  that  the  account  given  of  them  makes  them  not  fit  to  be  a  standard 
for  the  sense  of  mankind."  This,  I  think,  may  pass  for  nothing,  till  some- 
body be  found,  that  makes  them  to  be  a  standard  for  the  sense  of  mankind . 
All  the  use  I  made  of  them  was  to  show,  that  there  were  men  in  the  work! 
that  had  no  innate  idea  of  a  God.  But  to  ksep  something  like  an  argument 
?omo»  (f°r  what  will  not  that  do?)  you  go  near  denying  those  Cafers  to  be  men. 
What  else  do  these  words  signify?  "a  people  so  strangely  bereft  of  common 
sense,  that  they  can  hardly  be  reckoned  among  mankind,  as  appears  by  the. 
best  accounts  of  the  Cafers  of  Soldania,  i*Ce."  I  hope,  if  any  of  them  were 
called  Peter,  Jamfee,  or  John,  it  would  be  past  scruple  that  they  were  men: 
however  Courwee,  Wcwcna,  and  Cowsheda,  and  those  others  who  had  names. 

•  Terry's  Voyage,  p,  17, 23.  I  Mr.  Ovin^toi).  p.  W. 


96  M5  IiNNATE  PRINCIPLES.  [BOOK  I- 

that  would  not  prove  them  to  be  natural  impressions  on  the  mind 
any  more  than  the  names  of  tire,  or  the  sun,  heat,  or  number,  do 
prove  the  ideas  they  stand  for  to  be  innate  :  because  the  names 
of  those  things,  and  the  ideas  of  them,  are  so  universally  received 
and  known  among  mankind.  Nor,  on  the  contrary,  is  the  want 
of  such  a  name,  or  the  absence  of  such  a  notion,  out  of  men's 
minds,  any  argument  against  the  being  of  a  God  ;  any  more  than 
it  would  be  a  proof  that  there  was  no  loadstone  in  the  world, 
because  a  great  part  of  mankind  had  neither  a  notion  of  any  such 
thing,  nor  a  name  for  it ;  or  be  any  show  of  argument  to  prove, 
that  there  are  no  distinct  and  various  species  of  angels  or  intel- 
ligent beings  above  us,  because  we  have  no  ideas  of  such  distinct 
species,  or  names  for  them  :  for  men  being  furnished  with  words, 
by  the  common  language  of  their  own  countries,  can  scarce  avoid 
having  some  kind  of  ideas  of  those  things,  whose  names  those 
they  converse  with  have  occasion  frequently  to  mention  to  them. 
And  if  they  carry  with  it  the  notion  of  excellency,  greatness,  and 
something  extraordinary ;  if  apprehension  and  concernment 
accompany  it ;  if  the  fear  of  absolute  and  irresistible  power  set 
it  on  upon  the  mind,  the  idea  is  likely  to  sink  the  deeper,  and 
spread  the  farther :  especially  if  it  be  such  an  idea  as  is  agree- 
able to  the  common  light  of  reason,  and  naturally  deducible  from 
every  part  of  our  knowledge,  as  that  of  a  God  is.  For  the  visible 
marks  of  extraordinary  wisdom  and  power  appear  so  plainly  in 
all  the  works  of  the  creation,  that  a  rational  creature,  who  will 
but  seriously  reflect  on  them,  cannot  miss  the  discovery  of  a 
Deity.  And  the  influence  that  the  discovery  of  such  a  being 
must  necessarily  have  on  the  minds  of  all,  that  have  but  once 
heard  of  it,  is  so  great,  and  carries  such  a  weight  of  thought  and 
communication  with  it,  that  it  seems  stranger  to  me  that  a  whole 
nation  of  men  should  be  any  where  found  so  brutish  as  to  want 
the  notion  of  a  God,  than  that  they  should  be  without  any  notion 
of  numbers  or  fire. 

§  10. 
The  name  of  God  being  once  mentioned  in  any  part  of  the 
world,  to  express  a  superior,  powerful,  wise,  invisible  being,  the 
suitableness  of  such  a  notion  to  the  principles  of  common  reason, 
and  the  interest  men  will  always  have  to  mention  it  often,-  must 
necessarily  spread  it  far  and  wide,  and  continue  it  down  to  all 

that  had  no  places   in  your  nomenclator,  would  hardly  pass  muster  with  your 
lordship. 

My  lord,  I  should  not  mention  this,  but  that  what  you  yourself  say  here 
may  be  a  motive  to  you  to  consider,  that  what  you  have  laid  such  a  stress 
on  concerning  the  general  nature  of  man,  as  a  real  being,  and  the  subject  of 
properties,  amounts  to  nothing  for  the  distinguishing  of  species  ;  since  you 
yourself  own  that  there  may  be  individuals,  wherein  there  is  a  common  nature 
with  a  particular  subsistence  proper  to  each  of  them  ;  whereby  you  are  so 
little  able  to  know  of  which  of  the  ranks  or  sorts  they  are,  into  which  you 
say  God  has  ordered  beings,  and  which  he  hath  distinguished,  by  essential 
properties,  that  you  are  in  doubt  whether  they  ought  to  be  reckoned  among  man- 
kind or  no. 


fcli.    IV.  |  No   J.N.NATI.   PRINCIPLES  •    !)T 

generations  ;  though  yet  the  general  reception  of  tins  name,  and 
some  imperfect  and  unsteady  notions  conveyed  thereby  to  the 
unthinking  part  of  mankind,  prove  not  the  idea  to  he  innate  ; 
but  only  that  they  who  made  the  discovery  had  made  a  right  use 
of  their  reason,  thought  maturely  of  the  causes  of  things,  and 
traced  them  to  their  original ;  from  whom  other  less  considering 
people,  having  once  received  so  important  a  notion,  it  could  not 
easily  he  lost  again. 

§11. 
This  is  all  could  he  inferred  from  the  notion  of  a  God,  were  if 
to  he  found  universally  in  all  the  tribes  nf  mankind,  and  generally 
acknowledged  by  men  grown  to  maturity  in  all  countries.  For 
the  generality  of  the  acknowledging  of  a  God,  as  I  imagine,  is 
extended  no  farther  than  that ;  which  if  it  be  sufficient  to  prove 
the  idea  of  God  innate,  will  as  well  prove  the  idea  of  tire  innate  ; 
<ince,  I  think,  it  may  be  truly  said,  that  there  is  not  a  person  in 
the  world,  who  has  a  notion  of  a  God,  who  has  not  also  the  idea 
of  fire.  I  doubt  not,  but  if  a  colony  of  young  children  should  be 
placed  in  an  island  whereno  lire  was,  they  would  certainly  neither 
have  any  notion  of  such  a  thing,  nor  name  for  it ;  how  generally 
soever  it  were  received  and  known  in  all  the  world  besides  : 
and  perhaps  too  their  apprehensions  would  be  as  far  removed 
from  any  name  or  notion  of  a  God,  till  some  one  among  them  had 
employed  his  thoughts,  to  inquire  into  the  constitution  and  causes 
of  things,  which  would  easily  lead  him  to  the  notion  of  a  God  ; 
which  having  once  taught  to  others,  reason  and  the  natural  pro- 
pensity of  their  own  thoughts,  would  afterward  propagate  and 
continue  among  them. 

§  12.  SUITABLE  TO  GOD?S  GOODNESS,  THAT  ALL  MEN  SHOULD  HAVE  AN 
IDEA  OK    HIM,  THEREFORE    NATURALLY  IMPRINTED  BY  HIM,  ANSWERED. 

Indeed  it  is  urged,  that  it  is  suitable  to  the  goodness  of  God  to 
imprint  upon  the  minds  of  men  characters  and  notions  of  himself, 
and  not  to  leave  them  in  the  dark  and  doubt  in  so  grand  a  con- 
cernment ;  and  also  by  that  means  to  secure  to  himself  the 
homage  and  veneration  due  from  so  intelligent  a  creature  as  man; 
and  therefore  he  has  done  it. 

This  argument,  if  it  be  of  any  force,  will  prove  much  more 
than  those  who  use  it  in  this  case  expect  from  it.  For  if  we  may 
conclude  that  God  hath  done  for  men  all  that  men  shall  judge  is 
best  for  them,  because  it  is  suitable  to  his  goodness  so  to  do  ;  it 
will  prove  not  only  that  God  has  imprinted  on  the  minds  of  men 
an  idea  of  himself,  but  that  he  hath  plainly  stamped  there,  in  fair 
characters,  all  that  men  ought  to  know  or  believe  of  him,  all 
that  they  ought  to  do  in  obedience  to  his  will;  and  that  he  hath 
given  them  a  will  and  affections  conformable  to  it.  This,  no 
doubt,  every  one  will  think  better  lor  men,  than  that  they  should 
in  the  dark  grope  after  knowledge,  as  St.  Paul  tells  us  all  nations 


9i>     •  No   INNATE  PRINCIPLES.  [BOOK  f. 

s 
did  after  God,  Acts  xvii.  27,  than  that  their  wills  should  clash 
with  their  understandings,  and  their  appetites  cross  their  duty. 
The  Romanists  say,  it  is  best  for  men,  and  so  suitable  to  the  good- 
ness of  God,  that  there  should  be  an  infallible  judge  of  contro- 
versies on  earth  ;  and  therefore  there  is  one.  And  I,  by  the  same 
reason,  say,  it  is  better  for  men  that  every  man  himself  should  be 
infallible.     I  leave  them  to  consider,  whether  by  the  force  of  this 
argument  they  shall  think,  that  every  man  is  so.  I  think  it  a  very 
^ood  argument  to  say,  the  infinitely  wise  God  hath  made  it  so  ; 
and  therefore  it  is  best.     But  it  seems  to  me  a  little  too  much 
confidence  of  our  own  wisdom  to  say,  "  1  think  it  best,  and  there- 
fore God  hath  made  it  so  ;".and,  in  the  matter  in  hand,  it  will  be 
in  vain  to  argue  from  such  a  topic  that  God  hath  done  so,  when 
certain  experience  shows  us  that  he  hath  not.     But  the  goodness 
of  God  hath  not  been  wanting  to  men  without  such  original 
impressions  of  knowledge,  or  ideas  stamped  on  the-  mind  :  since 
he  hath  furnished  man  with  those  faculties,  which  will  serve  for 
the  sufficient  discovery  of  all  (kings  requisite  to  the  end  of  such 
a  being.     And  1  doubt  not  but  to  show  that  a  man,  by  the  right 
use  of  his  natural  abilities  may,  without  any  innate  principles, 
attain  a  knowledge  of  a  God,  and  other  things  that  concern  him. 
God  having  endued  man  with  those  faculties  of  knowing  which 
he  hath,  was  no  more  obliged  by  his  goodness  to  plant  those  innate 
notions  in  his  mind,  than  that,  having  given  him  reason,  hands, 
and  materials,  he  should  build  him   bridges   or  houses  ;  which 
some  people  in  the  world,  however,  of  good  parts,  do  either 
totally  want,  or  are  but  ill  provided  of,  as  well  as  others  are 
wholly  without  ideas  of  God,  and  principles  of  morality;  or  at 
least  have  but  very  ill  ones.     The  reason  in  "both  cases  being, 
that  they  never  employed  their  parts,  faculties,  and  powers  in- 
dustriously that  way,  but  contented  themselves  with  the  opinions, 
fashions,  and  things  of  their  country,  as  they  found  them,  without 
looking  any  farther.     Had  you  or  I  been  born  at  the  bay  of 
Soldania,  possibly  our  thoughts  and  notions  had  not  exceeded 
those  brutish  ones  of  the  Hottentots  that  inhabit  there  :  and  had 
the  Virginia  king  Apochancanabeen  educated  in  England,  he  had 
been  perhaps  as  knowing  a  divine,  and  as  good  a  mathematician, 
as  any  in  it.     The  difference  between  him  and  a  more  improved 
Englishman  lying  barely  in  this,  that  the  exercise  of  his  faculties 
was  bounded  within  the  ways,  modes,  and  notions   of  his  owu 
country,  and  never  directed  to  any. other  or  farther  inquiries; 
and  if  he  had  not  any  idea  of  a  God,  it  was  only  because  he 
pursued  not  those  thoughts  that  would  have  led  him  to  it. 

§  3.    IDEAS  OF  GOD  VARIOUS  IN  DIFFERENT   MEN. 

I  grant  that  if  there  were  any  idea  to  be  found  imprinted  on 
the  minds  of  men,  we  have  reason  to  expect  it  should  be  the  notion 
of  his  Maker,  as  a  mark  God  set  on  his  own  workmanship,  to 
mind  man  of  his  dependence  and  duty  ;  and  that  herein  should 


CH.  IV.]  NO  INNJCTE  PRINCIPLE^  99 

appear  the  firet  instances  of  human  knowledge.  But  how  late  is 
it  before  any  such  notion  is  discoverable  in  children  .'  And  when 
we  find  it  there,  how  much  more  does  it  resemble  the  opinion  and 
notion  of  the  teacher,  than  represent  the  true  God.''  Me  that 
shall  observe  in  children  the  progress  whereby  their  minds  attain 
the  knowledge  they  have,  will  think  that  the  objects  they  do  first 
and  most  familiarly  converse  with  are  those  that  make  the  first 
impressions  on  their  understandings ;  nor  will  he  find  the  least 
footsteps  of  any  other.  It  is  easy  to  take  notice  how  their 
thoughts  enlarge  themselves,  only  as  they  come  to  be  acquainted 
with  a  greater  variety  of  sensible  objects,  to  retain  the  ideas  of 
them  in  their  memories  ;  and  to  get  the  skill  to  compound  and 
enlarge  them,  and  several  ways  put  them  together.  How  by  these 
means  they  come  to  frame  in  their  minds  an  idea  men  have  of  a 
Deity  I  shall  hereafter  show. 

I  V-L 

Can  it  be  thought  that  the  ideas  men  have  of  God  are  the  cha- 
racters and  marks  of  himself,  engraven  on  their  minds  by  his  own 
linger,  when  we  see  that  in  the  same  country,  under  one  and  the 
same  name,  men  have  far  different,  nay,  often  contrary  and  incon- 
sistent ideas  and  conceptions  of  him  i?  Their  agreeing  in  a  name. 
or  sound,  will  scarce  prove  an  innate  notion  of  him. 

§  15. 

What  true  or  tolerable  notion  of  a  Deity  could  they  have, 
who  acknowledged  and  worshipped  hundreds .;  Every  deity 
that  they  owned  above  one  was  an  infallible  evidence  of  their 
ignorance  of  him,  and  a  proof  that  they  had  no  true  notion  of 
God,  where  unity,  infinity,  and  eternity  were  excluded.  To 
which  if  we  add  their  gross  conceptions  of  corporeity,  expressed 
in  their  images  and  representations  of  their  deities  ;  the  amours, 
marriages,  copulations,  lusts,  quarrels,  and  other  mean  qualities 
attributed  by  them  to  their  gods,  we  shall  have  little  reason  to 
think,  that  the  heathen  world,  i.  c.  the  greatest  part  of  mankind, 
had  such  ideas  of  God  in  their  minds,  as  he  himself,  out  of  care 
that  they  should  not  be  mistaken  about  him,  was  author  of. 
And  this  universality  of  consent,  so  much  argued,  if  it  prove  any 
native  impressions,  it  will  be  only  this,  that  God  imprinted  on  the 
minds  of  all  men,  speaking  the  same  language,  a  name  for  him- 
self, but  not  any  idea  ;  since  those  people,  who  agreed  "in  tin 
name,  had  at  the  same  time  far  different  apprehensions  about  the 
thing  signified.  If  they  say,  that  the  variety  of  deities  worship- 
ped by  the  heathen  world  were  but  figurative  ways  of  expressing 
the  several  attributes  of  that  incomprehensible  being,  or  several 
parts  of  his  providence. ;  1  answer,  what  they  might  be  in  the 
original  1  will  not  here  inquire;  but  that  they  were  so  in  the 
thoughts  of  the  vulgar,  I  think  nobody  will  affirm.  And  he  that 
will  consult  the  voyage  of  tin-  bishop  of  Beryte,  c.  13,  (not  to 


100  MJ   LVNATE  PRINCIPLES.  [BOOK  1, 

mention  other  testimonies)  will  find  that  the  theology  of  the  Si- 
amites  professedly  owns  a  plurality  of  gods  :  or  as  the  Abbe  de 
Choisy  more  judiciously  remarks,  in  his  Journal  du  Voyage  d< 
iSiam,  |-£i?  it  consists  properly  in  acknowledging  no  God  at  all. 

If  it  be  said,  that  wise  men  of  all  nations  came  to  have  true 
conceptions  of  the  unity  and  infinity  of  the  Deity,  I  grant  it.  But 
then  this, 

First,  Excludes  universality  of  consent  in  any  thing  but  the 
name ;  for  those  wise  men  being  very  few,  perhaps  one  of  a 
thousand,  this  universality  is  very  narrow. 

Secondly,  It  seems  to  me  plainly  to  prove,  that  the  truest  and 
best  notions  men  had  of  God  were  not  imprinted,  but  acquired 
by  thought  and  meditation,  and  a  right  use  of  their  faculties  : 
since  the  wise  and  considerate  men  of  the  world,  by  a  right  and 
careful  employment  of  their  thoughts  and  reason,  attained  true 
notions  in  this  as  well  as  other  things  ;  whilst  the  lazy  and  incon- 
siderate part  of  men,  making  far  the  greater  number,  took  up 
their  notions  by  chance,  from  common  tradition  and  vulgar  con- 
ceptions, without  much  beating  their  heads  about  them.  And  if 
it  be  a  reason  to  think  the  notion  of  God  innate,  because  all  wise 
men  had  it,  virtue  too  must  be  thought  innate,  for  that  also  wise 
men  have  always  had. 

§  16. 

This  was  evidently  the  case  of  all  Gentilism  :  nor  hatli  even 
among  Jews,  Christians,  and  Mahometans,  who  acknowledge  but 
oneGod,  this  doctrine,  and  the  care  taken  in  those  nations  to  teach 
men  to  have  true  notions  of  a  God,  prevailed  so  far  as  to  make  men 
to  have  the  same,  and  the  true  ideas  of  him.  How  many,  even 
among  us,  will  be  found,  upon  inquiry,  to  fancy  him  in  the  shape 
of  a  man  sitting  in  heaven,  and  to  have  many  other  absurd  and 
unfit  conceptions  of  him  ?  Christians,  as  well  as  Turks,  have 
had  whole  sects  owning  and  contending  earnestly  for  it,  and  that 
the  Deity  was  corporeal,  and  of  human  shape  :  and  though  we 
find  few  among  us  who  profess  themselves  anthropomorphites. 
(though  some  I  have  met  with  that  own  it)  yet,  I  believe,  he  thai 
will  make  it  his  business  may  find,  among  the  ignorant  and  unin- 
structed  Christians,  many  of  that  opinion.  Talk  but  with  coun- 
try people,  almost  of  any  age,  or  young  people  of  almost  any 
condition;  and  you  shall  find  that  though  the  name  of  God  be 
frequently  in  their  mouths,  yet  the  notions  they  apply  this  name 
to  are  so  odd,  low,  and  pitiful,  that  nobody  can  imagine  they 
were  taught  by  a  rational  man,  much  less  that  they  were  charac- 
ters written  by  the  finger  of  God  himself.  Nor  do  I  see  how  it 
derogates  more  from  the  goodness  of  God,  that  he  has  given  us 
minds  unfurnished  with  these  ideas  of  himself,  than  that  he  hath 
Bent  us  into  the  world  with  bodies  unclothed,  and  that  there  is  no 
art  or  skill  born  with  us  :  for,  being  fitted  with  faculties  to  attain 
these,  il  is  want  of  industry  and  consideration  in  us,  and  riot  of 


(  il.  IV. ]  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES.  l(Jt 

"bounty  ia  him  if  we  have  them  not.  It  is  as  certain  that  there 
is  awiod,  as  (hat  the  opposite  angles,  made  by  the  intersection  of 
two  straight  lines,  are  equal.  There  was  never  any  rational 
creature,  that  set  himself  sincerely  to  examine  the  truth  of  these 
propositions,  that  could  fail  to  assent  to  them  ;  though  yet  it  be 
past  doubt  that  there  are  many  men,  who,  having  not  applied 
their  thoughts  that  way,  are  ignorant  both  of  the  one  and  the 
other.  If  any  one  think  (it  to  call  this,  (which  is  the  utmost  of 
its  extent)  universal  consent,  such  an  one  I  easily  allow ;  but 
such  a  universal  consent  as  this  proves  not  the  idea  of  God,  any 
more  than  it  docs  the  idea  of  such  angles,  innate. 

§    17.    IF  THE  IDEA  OF  GOD  BE  NOT  INNATE,  NO  OTHEIl  CAN  BE  SUP- 
POSED  INNATE. 

Since,  then,  though  the  knowledge  of  a  God  be  the  most  natu- 
ral discovery  of  human  reason,  yet  the  idea  of  him  is  not  innate, 
as,  I  think,  is  evident  from  what  has  been  said  ;  1  imagine  there 
will  scarce  be  any  other  idea  found,  that  can  pretend  to  it :  since 
if  God  hath  set  any  impression,  any  character  on  the  under- 
standing of  men,  it  is  most  reasonable  to  expect  it  should  have 
been  some  clear  and  uniform  idea  of  himself,  as  far  as  our  weak 
capacities  were  capable  to  receive  so  incomprehensible  and  infi- 
nite an  object.  But  our  minds  being  at  first  void  of  that  idea, 
which  we  are  most  concerned  to  have,  it  is  a  strong  presumption 
against  all  other  innate  characters.  I  must  own,  as  far  as  I  can 
observe,  I  can  (hid  none,  and  would  be  glad  to  be  informed  by 
any  other. 

§  18.  IDEA  OF  SUBSTANCE  NOT  INNATE. 

I  confess  there  is  another  idea,  which  would  be  of  general  u<<- 
for  mankind  to  have,  as  it  is  of  general  taik.  as  if  they  had  it ; 
and  (hat  is  the  idea  of  substance,  which  we  neither  have,  nor 
can  have,  by  sensation  or  reflection.  If  nature  took  care  to 
provide  us  any  ideas,  we  might  well  expect  they  should  be  such 
as  by  our  own  faculties  we  cannot  procure  to  ourselves  ;  but  wo 
see.  on  the  contrary,  that  since  by  tbose  ways,  whereby  our  ideas 
are  brought  into  our  minds,  this  is  not,  we  have  no  such  clear 
idea  at  all,  and  therefore  signify  nothing  by  the  word  substance, 
but  only  an  uncertain  supposition  of  we  know  not  what,  i.  e.  of 
something  whereof  we  have  no  particular  distinct  positive  idea, 
which  we  take  to  be  the  substratum,  or  support,  of  those  ideas 
we  know. 

§    10.    NO   FKOrOSITIONS  CAN  BE  INNATE,    SINCE  NO  IDEAS  ARE    INNATE. 

Whatever  then  we  talk  of  innate,  either  speculative  or  practi- 
cal principles  it  may,  with  as  much  probability,  be  said,  that  a 
man  Math  100/.  sterling  iii  his  pocket,  and  yet  denied  that  he 
hath  either  penny,  shilling,  crown,  or  other  coin  out  of  which 
the  sum  is  to  be  made  up,  as  to  think  that  certain  propositions 


102  NO    INNATE    PRINCIPLES.  [BOOK  I, 

are  innate,  when  the  ideas  about  which  they  arc  can  by  no 
means  be  supposed  to  be  so.  The  general  reception  and  assent 
that  is  given  doth  not  at  all  prove  that  the  ideas  expressed  in 
them  are  innate  :  for  in  many  cases,  however  the  ideas  came 
there,  the  assent  to  words,  expressing  the  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment of  such  ideas,  will  necessarily  follow.  Every  one,  that 
hath  a  true  idea  of  God  and  worship,  will  assent  to  this  proposi- 
tion, "  that  God  is  to  be  worshipped,"  when  expressed  in  a  lan- 
guage he  understands  :  and  every  rational  man,  that  hath  not 
thought  on  it  to-day,  may  be  ready  to  assent  to  this  proposition 
to-morrow  ;  and  yet  millions  of  men  may  be  well  supposed  to 
want  one  or  both  those  ideas  to-day.  For  if  we  will  allow  sava- 
ges and  most  country  people  to  have  ideas  of  God  and  worship, 
(which  conversation  with  them  will  not  make  one  forward  to 
believe,)  yet  1  think  few  children  can  be  supposed  to  have  those 
ideas,  which  therefore  they  must  begin  to  have  some  time  or 
other;  and  then  they  will  also  begin  to  assent  to  that  proposi- 
tion, and  make  very  little  question  of  it  ever  after.  But  such  an 
assent  upon  hearing  no  more  proves  the  ideas  to  be  innate  than 
it  does  that  one  born  blind  (with  cataracts,  which  will  be  couched 
to-morrow)  had  the  innate  ideas  of  the  sun,  or  light,  or  saffron, 
or  yellow  ;  because,  when  his  sight  is  cleared,  he  will  certainly 
assent  to  this  proposition,  "  that  the  sun  is  lucid,  or  that  saffron 
is  yellow ;"  and  therefore,  if  such  an  assent  upon  hearing  cannot 
prove  the  ideas  innate,  it  can  much  less  the  propositions  made 
up  of  those  ideas.  If  they  have  any  innate  ideas,  I  would  bo 
glad  to  be  told  what,  and  how  many  they  arc. 

§  20.    NO  INNATE  IDEAS  IN  THE  MEMORZ. 

To  which  let  me  add  :  if  there  be  any  innate  ideas,  any  ideas 
in  the  mind,  which  the  mind  does  not  actually  think  on,  they 
must  be  lodged  in  the  memory,  and  from  thence  must  be  brought 
into  view  by  remembrance  :  i,  e.  must  be  known,  when  they  are 
remembered,  to  have  been  perceptions  in  the  mind  before,  un- 
less remembrance  can  be  without  remembrance.  For  to  re- 
member is  to  perceive  any  thing  with  memory,  or  with  a  con- 
sciousness, that  it  was  known  or  perceived  before:  without  this, 
whatever  idea  comes  into  the  mind  is  new,  and  not  remembered  : 
this  consciousness  of  its  having  been  in  the  mind  before  being 
that  which  distinguishes  remembering  from  all  other  ways  of 
thinking.  Whatever  idea  was  never  perceived  by  the  mind  was 
never  in  the  mind.  Whatever  idea  is  in  the  mind,  is  either  an 
actual  perception,  or  else,  having  been  an  actual  perception,  is 
so  in  the  mind,  that  by  the  memory  it  can  be  made  an  actual 
perception  again.  Whenever  there  is  the  actual  perception  of  an 
idea  without  memory,  the  idea  appears  perfectly  new  and  un- 
known before  to  the  understanding.  Whenever  the  memory 
brings  any  idea  into  actual  view,  it  is  with  a  consciousness  that 
it  had  been  there  before,  and  was  not  whollv  a  stranger  to  the 


I  H.   IV.]  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES.  103 

mind.     Whether  this  be  not  so,  I  appeal  to  every  one's  observa- 
tion ;  and  then  I  desire  an  instance  of  an  idea,  pretended  to  be 
innate,  which  (before  any  impression  of  it  by  ways  hereafter  to 
be  mentioned)  any  one  could  revive  and  remember  as  an  idea 
he  had  formerly  known  ;  without  which  consciousness  of  a  for- 
mer perception  there  is  no  remembrance  ;  and  whatever  idc;t 
comes  into  the  mind  without  that  consciousness  is  not  remem- 
bered, or  comes  not  out  of  the  memory,  nor  can  be  said  to  be 
in  the  mind  before  that  appearance  :  for  what  is  not  either  actu- 
ally in  view,  or  in  the  memory,  is  in  the  mind  no  way  at  all,  and 
is  all  one  as  if  it  had  never  been  there.     Suppose  a  child  had 
the  use  of  his  eyes,  till  he  knows  and  distinguishes  colours ;  but 
then  cataracts  shut  the  windows,  and  he  is  forty  or  fifty  years 
perfectly  in  the  dark,  and  in  that  time  perfectly  loses  all  memory 
of  the  ideas  of  colours  he  once  had.     This  was  the  case  of  a  blind 
man  I  once  talked  with,  who  lost  his  sight  by  the  small-pox  when 
lie  was  a  child,  and  had  no  more  notion  of  colours  than  one  born 
blind.     I  ask  whether  any  one  can  say  this  man  had  then  any 
ideas  of  colours  in  his  mind,  any  more  than  one  born  blind  ? 
And  I  think  nobody  will  say  that  either  of  them  had  in  his  mind 
any  idea  of  colours  at  all.     His  cataracts  are  couched,  and  then 
he  has  the  ideas  (which  he  remembers  not)  of  colours  de  novo,  by 
his  restored  sight  conveyed  to  his   mind,   and  that  without  any 
consciousness  of  a  former  acquaintance  :  and  these  now  he  can 
revive  and  call  to  mind  in  the  dark.     In  this  case  all  these  ideas 
of  colours,  which  when  out  of  view  can  be  revived  with  a  con- 
sciousness of  a  former  acquaintance,  being  thus  in  the  memory, 
are  said  to  be  in  the  mind.     The  use  I  make  of  this  is,  that  what- 
ever idea,  being  not  actually  in  view,  is  in   the   mind,  is  there- 
only  by  being  in  the  memory  ;  and  if  it  be  not  in  the  memory, 
it  is  not  in  the  mind  ;   and  if  it  be  in  the   memory,  it  cannot 
by  the  memory  be  brought  into  actual  view,  without  a  per- 
ception that  it  comes  out  of  the  memory;  which  is  this,  that 
it  had  been  known  before,  and  is  now  remembered.     If  therefore 
there  be  any  innate  ideas,  they  must  be  in  the  memory,  or  else 
nowhere  in  the  mind  ;  and  if  they  be  in  the  memory,  they  can 
be  revived  without  any  impression  from  without ;  and  whenever 
they  arc  brought  into  the  mind,  they  are  remembered,  i.  c.  they 
bring  with  them  a  perception  of  their  not  being  wholly  new  to 
it.     This  being  a  constant  and  distinguishing  difference  between 
what  is.  and  what  is  not  in  the  memory,  or  in  the  mind  ;  thai 
what  is  not  in  the  memory,  whenever  it  appears  there,  appears 
perfectly  new  and  unknown  before  ;  and  what  is  in  the  memory,, 
or  in  the  mind,  whenever  it  is  suggested  by  the  memory,  appears 
not  to  be  new,  but  the  mind  funis  it  in  itself,  and  knows  it  was 
there  before.     By  this  it  may  be  tried,  whether  there   be   any 
innate  ideas  in  the  mind,   before   impression  from  sensation  or 
reflection.     I  would  fain  meet  with  the  man  who,  when  he  came 
to  the  use  of  reason,  or  at  any  other  time,  remembered  any  one 
of  them;  and  to  whom,  after  he  was  born,  thevwere  never  new 


104  NO    INNATE    PRINCIPLES-  [BOOK  I. 

If  any  one  will  say  that  there  are  ideas  in  the  mind  that  are  not 
in  the  memory,  I  desire  him  to  explain  himself,  and  make  what 
he  says  intelligible. 

§  21.    PRINCIPLES  NOT  INNATE,  BECAUSE  OF   LITTLE  USE  OR    LITTLE 
CERTAINTY. 

Besides  what  I  have  already  said,  there  is  another  reason  why  I 
doubt  that  neither  these  nor  any  other  principles  are  innate.  I 
that  am  fully  persuaded  that  the  infinitely  wise  God  made  all  things 
in  perfect  wisdom,  cannot  satisfy  myself  why  he  should  be  sup- 
posed to  print  upon  the  minds  of  men  some  universal  principles  ; 
whereof  those  that  are  pretended  innate,  and  concern  speculation 
are  of  no  great  use  ;  and  those  that  concern  practice,  not  self-evi- 
dent, and  neither  of  them  distinguishable  from  some  other  truths 
not  allowed  to  be  innate.  For  to  what  purpose  should  charac- 
ters be  graven  on  the  mind  by  the  finger  of  God,  which  are  not 
clearer  there  than  those  which  are  afterward  introduced,  or  can- 
not be  distinguished  from  them  ?  If  any  one  thinks  there  are 
such  innate  ideas  and  propositions,  which  by  their  clearness  and 
usefulness  are  distinguishable  from  all  that  is  adventitious  in  the 
mind,  and  acquired,  it  will  not  be  a  hard  matter  for  him  to  tell 
us  which  they  are,  and  then  every  one  will  be  a  fit  judge  whether 
they  be  so  or  no ;  since  if  there  be  such  innate  ideas  and  im- 
pressions, plainly  different  from  all  other  perceptions  and  know- 
ledge, every  one  will  find  it  true  in  himself.  Of  the  evidence  of 
these  supposed  innate  maxims  1  have  spoken  already;  of  their 
usefulness  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  more  hereafter. 

§  22.    DIFFERENCE  OF  MEN'S  DISCOVERIES  DEPENDS  UPON  THE 
DIFFERENT  APPLICATION  OF  THEIR  FACULTIES. 

To  conclude :  some  ideas  forwardly  offer  themselves  to  all 
men's  understandings-,  some  sorts  of  truth  result  from  any 
ideas,  as  soon  as  the  mind  puts  them  into  propositions  ;  other 
truths  require  a  train  of  ideas  placed  in  order,  a  due  comparing 
of  them,  and  deductions  made  with  attention,  before  they  can  be 
discovered  and  assented  to.  Some  of  the  first  sort,  because  of 
their  general  and  easy  reception,  have  been  mistaken  for  innate; 
but  the  truth  is,  ideas  and  notions  are  no  more  born  with  us  than 
arts  and  sciences,  though  some  of  them  indeed  offer  themselves 
to  our  faculties  more  readily  than  others,  and  therefore  are  more 
generally  received ;  though  that  too  be  according  as  the  organs 
of  our  bodies  and  powers  of  our  minds  happen  to  be  employed  : 
God  having  lilted  men  with  faculties  and  means  to  discover, 
receive,  and  retain  truths,  according  as  they  are  employed.  The 
great  difference  that  is  to  be  found  in  the  notions  of  mankind  is 
from  the  different  use  they  put  their  faculties  to ;  whilst  some  (and 
those  the  most)  taking  things  upon  trust,  misemploy  their  power 
of  assent,  by  lazily  enslaving  their  minds  to  the  dictates  and  do- 
minion of  others  in  doctrines,  which  it  is  their  duty  carefully  to 


tH.   IV.]  >U   IINSATL   PRINCIPLES.  ]\)j 

examine,  and  not  blindly,  with  an  implicit  faith,  to  swallow;  others, 
employing  their  thoughts  only  about  some  few  things,  grow 
acquainted  sufficiently  with  them,  attain  great  degrees  of  know- 
ledge in  them,  and  arc  ignorant  of  all  other,  having  never  let  their 
thoughts  loose  in  the  search  of  other  inquiries.  Thus,  that  the 
three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal  to  two  right  ones,  is  a  truth  as 
certain  as  any  thing  can  be,  and  I  think  more  evident  than  many 
of  those  propositions  that  go  for  principles  ;  and  yet  there  are 
millions,  however  expert  in  other  things,  who  know  not  this  at 
all,  because  they  never  set  their  thoughts  on  work  about  such 
angles  ;  and  he  that  certainly  knows  this  proposition  may  yet  be 
utterly  ignorantof  the  truth  of  other  propositions,  in  mathematics 
itself,  which  are  as  clear  and  evident  as  this,  because,  in  his  search 
of  those  mathematical  truths,  he  stopped  his  thoughts  short,  and 
went  not  so  far.  The  same  may  happen  concerning  the  notions 
we  have  of  the  being  of  a  Deity  ;  for  though  there  be  no  truth 
which  a  man  may  more  evidently  make  out  to  himself  than  the 
existence  of  a  God,  yet  he  that  shall  content  himself  with  things 
as  he  finds  them,  in  this  world,  as  they  minister  to  his  pleasures 
and  passions,  and  not  make  inquiry  a  little  farther  into  their  causes, 
ends,  and  admirable  contrivances,  and  pursue  the  thoughts  thereof 
with  diligence  and  attention,  may  live  long  without  any  notion  of 
such  a  being.  And  if  any  person  hath  by  talk  put  such  a  notion 
into  his  head,  he  may  perhaps  believe  it ;  but  if  he  hath  never 
examined  it,  his  knowledge  of  it  will  be  no  perfecter  than  his, 
who  having  been  told  that  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal 
to  two  right  ones,  takes  it  upon  trust,  without  examining  the 
demonstration  ;  and  may  yield  his  assent  as  a  probable  opinion, 
but  hath  no  knowledge  of  the  truth  of  it ;  which  yet  his  faculties, 
if  carefully  employed,  were  able  to  make  clear  and  evident  to> 
him.  But  this  only  by  the  by,  to  show  how  much  our  knowledge 
depends  upon  the  right  use  of  those  powers  nature  hath  bestowed, 
upon  us,  and  how  little  upon  such  innate  principles,  as  are  in  vain 
supposed  to  be  in  all  mankind  for  their  direction  ;  which  all  men 
could  not  but  know,  if  they  were  there,  or  else  they  would  be 
there  to  no  purpose  ;  and  which,  since  all  men  do  not  know,  nor 
can  distinguish  from  other  adventitious  truths,, we  may  well  con- 
clude there  are  no  such. 

§  23.    MEN  MUST  THINK  AND  KNOW  FOR  THEMSELVES. 

What  censure  doubting  thus  of  innate  principles  may  deserve 
from  men,  who  will  be  apt  to  call  it  pulling  up  the  old  foundations 
of  knowledge  and  certainty,  I  cannot  tell ;  1  persuade  myself  at 
least,  that  the  way  I  have  pursued,  being  conformable  to  truth, 
lays  those  foundations  surer.  This  I  am  certain,  I  have  not 
made  it  my  business  either  to  quit  or  follow  any  authority  in  the 
ensuing  discourse:  truth  has  been  my  only  aim,  and  wherever 
■(hat  has  appeared  to  lead,  my  thoughts  have  impartially  followed, 
without  minding  whether  the  footsteps  of  any  other  lay. that  wav 

Vol.  I.  M 


iUti  .NO  1MSATE  i«RINCIPLK>  [BOOK  IV. 

or  no.     iSot  that  I  want  a  due  respect  to  other  men's  opinions : 
but  after  all,  the  greatest  reverence  is  clue  to  truth  :  and  I  hope 
it  will  not  be  thought  arrogance  to  say  that  perhaps  we  should 
make  greater  progress  in  the  discovery  of  rational  and  contem- 
plative   knowledge,    if  we  sought    it  in   the  fountain,    in  the 
consideration   of  things  themselves,    and    made  use  rather  of 
our  own  thoughts  than  other  men's  to  find  it ;  for  I  think  we  may 
as  rationally  hope  to  see  with  other  men's  eyes,  as  to  know  by 
other  men's  understandings.     So  much  as  we  ourselves  consider 
and  comprehend  of  truth  and  reason,  so  much  we  possess  of 
real  and  true  knowledge.     The  floating  of  other  men's  opinions 
in  our  brains  makes  us  not  one  jot  the  more  knowing,  though 
they  happen  to  be  true.     What  in  them  was  science,  is  in  us  but 
opiniatrety;  whilst  we  give  up  our  assent  only  to  reverend  names, 
and  do  not,  as  they  did,  employ  our  own  reason  to  understand 
those  truths  which  gave  them  reputation.  Aristotle  was  certainly 
a  knowing  man,  but  nobody  ever  thought  him  so,  because  he  blindly 
embraced  or  confidently  vented,  the  opinions  of  another.     And 
if  the  taking  up  another's   principles  without  examining  them, 
made  not  him  a  philosopher,  I  suppose  it  will  hardly  make  any 
body   else   so.     In  the  sciences,  every  one  has  so  much  as  he 
really  knows   and  comprehends :  what  he  believes  only,  and 
takes  upon  trust,  are  but  shreds ;  which,   however  well  in  the 
whole  piece,   make  no  considerable  addition  to  his  stock  who 
gathers  them.     Such  borrowed  wealth,  like  fairy-money,  though 

it  were  gold  in  the  hand  from  which  he  received  it,  will  be  but 

leaves  and  dust  when  it  comes  to  use. 

§  24.    WHENCE  THE    OPINION   OF   INNATE  PRINCIPLES. 

When  men  have  found  some  general  propositions,  that  could 
not  be  doubted  of  as  soon  as  understood,  it  was,  I  know,  a  short 
and  easy  way  to  conclude  them  innate.     This  being  once  re- 
ceived,  it  eased  the  lazy  from  the  pains  of  search,  and  stopped 
the  inquiry  of  the  doubtful  concerning  all  that  was  once  styled 
innate.  And  it  was  of  no  small  advantage  to  those  who  affected  to 
be  masters  and  teachers,  to  make  this  the  principle  of  principles, 
"  that  principles  must  not  be  questioned  :"  for  having  once  esta- 
blished this  tenet,  'that  there  are  innate  principles,  it  put  their 
followers  upon  a  necessity  of  receiving  some  doctrines  as  such  : 
which  was  to  take  them  off  from  the  use  of  their  own  reason  and 
judgment,  and  put  them  on  believing  and  taking  them  upon  trust, 
without  farther  examination  :  in  which  posture  of  blind  credulity 
they  might  be  more  easily  governed  by,  and  made  useful  to,  some 
sort  of  men,  who  had  the  skill  and  oiiice  to  principle  and  guide 
them.     Nor  is  it  a  small  power  it  gives  one  man  over  another,  to 
have  the  authority  to  be  the  dictator  of  principles,  and  teacher  of 
unquestionable  truths  ;  and  to  make  a  man  swallow  that  for  an 
innate  principle  which  may  serve  to  his  purpose  who  teacheth 
them  ;  whereas  had  they  examined  the  ways  whereby  men  came 


«,n.  iv.]  NO  INNATE  PRINCIPLES.  10/ 

to  the  knowledge  of  many  universal  truths,  they  would  have 
found  them  to  result  in  the  minds  of  men  from  the  being  of  things 
themselves,  when  duly  considered;  and  that  they  were  discovered 
by  the  application  of  those  faculties,  that  were  fitted  by  nature 
to  receive  and  judge  of  them,  when  duly  employed  about  them. 

§  25.    CONCLUSION. 

To  show  how  the  understanding  proceeds  herein  is  the  design 
of  the  following  discourse  ;  which  1  shall  proceed  to,  when  I  have 
iirst  premised,  that  hitherto,  to  clear  my  way  to  those  foundations 
which  I  conceive  are  the  only  true  ones  whereon  to  establish 
those  notions  we  can  have  of  our  own  knowledge,  it  hath  been 
necessary  for  me  to  give  an  account  of  the  reasons  I  had  to  doubt 
of  innate  principles.  And  since  the  arguments  which  are  against 
them  do  some  of  them  rise  from  common  received  opinions,  I 
have  been  forced  to  take  several  things  for  granted,  which  is. 
hardly  avoidable  to  any  one,  whose  task  it  is  to  show  the  falsehood 
or  improbability  of  any  tenet :  it  happening  in  controversial  dis- 
courses, as  it  does  in  assaulting  of  towns,  where,  if  the  ground  be 
hut  firm  whereon  the  batteries  are  erected,  there  is  no  farther 
inquiry  of  whom  it  is  borrowed,  nor  whom  it  belongs  to,  so  it 
affords  but  a  fit  rise  for  the  present  purpose.  But  in  the  future. 
part  of  this  discourse,  designing  to  raise  an  edifice  uniform  and 
consistent  with  itself,as  far  as  my  own  experience  and  observation 
will  assist  me,  I  hope  to  erect  it  on  such  a  basis,  that  I  shall  not 
need  to  shore  it  up  with  props  and  buttresses,  leaning  on  borrowed 
or  begged  foundations ;  or  at  least,  if  mine  prove  a  castle  in  the 
air,  I  will  endeavour  it  shall  be  all  of  a  piece,  and  hang  together. 
Wherein  I  warn  the  reader  not  to  expect  undeniable  cogent 
demonstrations  unless  I  may  be  allowed  the  privilege,  not  seldom 
assumed  by  others,  to  take  my  principles  for  granted  ;  and  then, 
I  doubt  not,  but  1  can  demonstrate  too.  All  that  I  shall  say  for 
the  principles  I  proceed  on  is,  that  I  can  only  appeal  to  men's 
own  unprejudiced  experience  and  observation,  whether  they  be 
true  or  no  ;  and  this  is  enough  for  a  man  who  professes  no  more 
than  to  lay  down  candidly  and  freely  his  own  conjectures,  con- 
cerning a  subject  lying  somewhat  in  the  dark,  without  any  other 
design,  than  an  unbiassed  inquiry  after  truth. 


I  ( IN 


BOOK  II. 

CHAPTER  r. 

OF  IDEAS  IN  GENERAL  AND  THEIR  ORIGINAL. 
<j   1.    IDEA  IS  THE  OBJECT  OF  THINKING. 

Every  man  being  conscious  to  himself  that  he  thinks,  and  that 
which  his  mind  is  applied  about,  whilst  thinking,  being  the  ideas 
that  are  there,  it  is  past  doubt,  that  men  have  in  their  minds 
several  ideas,  such  as  are  those  expressed  by  the  words  white- 
ness, hardness,  sweetness,  thinking,  motion,  man,  elephant,  army, 
drunkenness,  and  others.  It  is  in  the  first  place  then  to  be  in- 
quired, how  he  comes  by  them.  I  know  it  is  a  received  doc- 
trine, that  men  have  native  ideas  and  original  characters  stamped 
♦ipon  their  minds  in  their  very  first  being.  This  opinion  I  have, 
at  large,  examined  already  ;  and,  I  suppose,  what  I  have  said,  m 
the  foregoing  book,  will  be  much  more  easily  admitted,  when  I 
have  shown  whence  the  understanding  may  get  all  the  ideas  it 
has,  and  by  what  ways  and  degrees  they  may  come  into  the 
mind ;  for  which  I  shall  appeal  to  every  one's  own  observation 
and  experience. 

§  2.    ALL  IDEAS  COME  FROM  SENSATION  OR  REFLECTION. 

Let  us  then  suppose  the  mind  to  be,  as  we  say,  white  paper, 
void  of  all  characters,  without  any  ideas  ;  how  comes  it  to  be 
furnished  ?  Whence  comes  it  by  that  vast  store  which  the  busy 
and  boundless  fancy  of  man  has  painted  on  it,  with  an  almost 
endless  variety  ?  Whence  has  it  all  the  materials  of  reason  and 
knowledge  ?  To  this  I  answer  in  one  word,  from  experience  : 
in  that  all  our  knowledge  is  founded,  and  from  that  it  ultimately 
derives  itself.  Our  observation  employed  either  about  external 
sensible  objects,  or  about  the. internal  operations  of  our  minds, 
perceived  and  reflected  on  by  ourselves,  is  that  which  supplies 
our  understandings  with  all  the  materials  of  thinking.  These 
two  are  the  fountains  of  knowledge,  from  whence  all  the  ideas 
we  have,  or  can  naturally  have,  do  spring. 

§  3.    THE  OBJECTS  OF  SENSATION  ONE  SOURCE  OF   IDEAS. 

First,  Our  senses,  conversant  about  particular  sensible  objects, 
do  convey  into  the  mind  several  distinct  perceptions  of  things, 
according  to  those  various  ways  wherein  those  objects  do  affect 
them  :  and  thus  we  come  by  those  ideas  we  have  of  yellow, 
white,  heat,  cold,  soft,  hard,  bitter,  sweet,  and  all  those  which  we 
call  sensible  qualities  ;  which  when  1  say  the  senses  convey  into 
the  mind,  I  mean,  they  from  external  objects  convey  into  the 


H.  I.]  THE  ORIGINAL  OF  OUR  IDEAs.  i09 

mind  what  produces  there  those  perceptions.  This  great  source 
of  most  of  the  ideas  we  have,  depending  wholly  upon  our  senses, 
and  derived  by  them  to  the  understanding,  IcaH  sensation. 

§  4.  THE  OPERATIONS  OF  OUR  MINDS  THE  OTHER  SOURCE  OK  THEM. 

Secondly,  The  other  fountain  from  which  experience  fur- 
nisheth  the  understanding  with  ideas,  is  the  perception  of  the 
operations  of  our  own  mind  within  us,  as  it  is  employed  about 
the  ideas  it  has  got,  which  operations,  when  the  soul  comes 
to  reflect  on  and  consider,  do  furnish  the  understanding  with 
another  set  of  ideas,  which  could  not  be  had  from  things  without; 
and  such  are  perception,  thinking,  doubting,  believing,  reason- 
ing, knowing,  willing,  and  all  the  different  actings  of  our  own 
minds  ;  which  we  being  conscious  of  and  observing  in  ourselves, 
do  from  these  receive  into  our  understandings  as  distinct  ideas, 
as  we  do  from  bodies  affecting  our  senses.  This  source  of  ideas 
every  man  has  wholly  in  himself:  and  though  it  be  not  sense,  as 
having  nothing  to  do  with  external  objects,  yet  it  is  very  like  it, 
and  might  properly  enough  be  called  internal  sense.  But  as  I 
call  the  other  sensation,  so  I  call  this,  reflection,  the  ideas  is; 
affords  being  such  only  as  the  mind  gets  by  reflecting  on  its  own 
operations  within  itself.  By  reflection,  then,  in  the  following 
part  of  this  discourse,  I  would  be  understood  to  mean  that  notice 
which  the  mind  takes  of  its  own  operations,  and  the  manner  of 
them  ;  by  reason  whereof  there  come  to  be  ideas  of  these  opera- 
tions in  the  understanding.  These  two,  I  say,  viz.  external  mate- 
rial things,  as  the  objects  of  sensation  ;  and  the  operations  of  our 
own  minds  within,  as  the  objects  of  reflection  ;  are  to  me  the  only 
originals  from  whence  all  our  ideas  take  their  beginnings.  The 
term  operations  here  1  use  in  a  large  sense,  as  comprehending 
not  barely  the  actions  of  the  mind  about  its  ideas,  but  some  sort 
of  passions  arising  sometimes  from  them,  such  as  is  the  satisfac- 
tion or  uneasiness  arising  from  any  thought. 

§  5.    ALL  OUR  IDEAS  ARE  OF  THE  ONE  OR  THE  OTHER  OF  THESE, 

The  understanding  seems  to  me  not  to  have  the  least  glimmer- 
ing of  any  ideas,  which  it  doth  not  receive  from  one  of  these  two. 
External  objects  furnish  the  mind  with  the  ideas  of  sensible 
qualities,  which  are  all  those  different  perceptions  they  produce 
in  us  ?  and  the  mind  furnishes  the  understanding  with  ideas  of  its 
own  operations. 

These,  when  we  have  taken  a  full  survey  of  them  and  their 
several  modes,  combinations,  and  relations,  we  shall  rind  to  con- 
tain all  our  whole  stock  of  ideas  ;  and  that  we  have  nothing  in 
our  minds  which  did  not  come  in  one  of  these  two  ways.  Let 
anyone  examine  his  own  thoughts,  and  thoroughly  search  into  his 
understanding-,  and  then  let  him  tell  me,  whether  all  the  original 
ideas  he  has  there  arc  any  other  than  of  the  objects  of  his  senses, 
nr  of  the  operations  of  his  mind,  considered  as  objects  of'hi«  re 


110  THE  ORIGINAL  OF  OUR  IDEAS.  [BOOK  tl. 

flection  :  and  how  great  a  mass  of  knowledge  soever  he  imagines 
to  be  lodged  there,  he  will,  upon  taking  a  strict  view,  see  that  he 
has  not  any  idea  in  his  mind,  but  what  one  of  these  two  haveim- 
printed  ;  though  perhaps  with  infinite  variety  compounded  and 
enlarged  by  the  understanding,  as  we  shall  see  hereafter. 

§  6.    OBSERVABLE  IN  CHILDREN. 

He  that  attentively  considers  the  state  of  a  child,  at  his  first 
coming  into  the  world,  will  have  little  reason  to  think  him  stored 
with  plenty  of  ideas,  that  are  to  be  the  matter  of  his  future  know- 
ledge: it  is  by  degrees  he  comes  to  be  furnished  with  them. 
And  though  the  ideas  of  obvious  and  familiar  qualities  imprint 
themselves  before  the  memory  begins  to  keep  a  register  of  time 
or  order,  yet  it  is  often  so  late  before  some  unusual  qualities  come 
in  the  way,  that  there  are  few  men  that  cannot  recollect  the  be- 
ginning of  their  acquaintance  with  them  ;  and  if  it  were  worth 
while,  no  doubt  a  child  might  be  so  ordered  as  to  have  but  a  very 
few  even  of  the  ordinary  ideas,  till  he  were  grown  up  to  a  man. 
But  all  that  are  born  into  the  world  being  surrounded  with 
bodies  that  perpetually  and  diversely  affect  them,  variety  of  ideas, 
whether  care  be  taken  of  it  or  no,  are  imprinted  on  the  minds  of 
children.  Light  and  colours  are  busy  at  hand  every  where, 
when  the  eye  is  but  open  ;  sounds  and  some  tangible  qualities 
fail  not  to  solicit  their  proper  senses,  and  force  an  entrance  to 
the  mind:  but  yet,  1  think,  it  will  be  granted  easily,  that  if  a  child 
were  kept  in  a  place  where  he  never  saw  any  other  but  black  and 
white  till  he  were  a  man,  he  would  have  no  more  ideas  of  scarlet 
or  green,  than  he  that  from  his  childhood  never  tasted  an  oyster 
or  a  pine-apple  has  of  those  particular  relishes. 

§  7.    MEN  ARE  DIFFERENTLY  FURNISHED  WITH    THESE,    ACCORDING    TO 
THE  DIFFERENT  OBJECTS  THEY  CONVERSE  WITH. 

Men  then  come  to  be  furnished  with  fewer  or  more  simple 
ideas  from  without,  according  as  the  objects  they  converse  with 
afford  greater  or  less  variety  ;  and  from  the  operations  of  their 
minds  within,  according  as  they  more  or  less  reflect  on  them. 
For  though  he  that  contemplates  the  operations  of  his  mind 
cannot  but  have  plain  and  clear  ideas  of  them  ;  yet  unless  he 
turns  his  thoughts  that  way,  and  considers  them  attentively,  he 
will  no  more  have  clear  and  distinct  ideas  of  all  the  operations  of 
his  mind,  and  all  (hat  may  be  observed  therein,  than  he  will  have 
all  the  particular  ideas  of  any  landscape  or  of  the  parts  and 
motions  of  a  clock,  who  will  not  turn  his  eyes  to  it,  and  with  at- 
tention heed  all  the  parts  of  it.  The  picture  or  clock  may  be  so 
placed,  that  they  may  come  in  his  way  every  day  ;  but  yet  he 
will  have  but  a  confused  idea  of  all  the  parts  they  are  made  up 
of,  till  he  applies  himself  with  attention  to  consider  them  each  in 
particular. 


,  ii.    i.j  MEN    THINK  NOT  ALWAYS.  ill 

Cl  8.    IDE\S    OF    REFLECTION-    LATER,  BECAUSE  THEY  NEED  'ATTENTION- 

And  hence  we  see  the  reason,  why  it  is  pretty  late  before  most 
children  get  ideas  of  the  operations  of  their  own  minds  :  and 
some  have  not  any  very  clear  or  perfect  ideas  of  the  greatest  part 
of  them  all  their  lives:  because  though  they  pass  there  continually, 
yet,  like  floating  visions,  they  make  not  deep  impressions  enough 
to  leave  in  their  mind  clear,  distinct,  lasting  ideas,  till  the  under- 
standing turns  inward  upon  itself,  reflects  on  its  own  operations, 
and  makes  them  the  objects  of  its  own  contemplation.  Children, 
when  they  come  first  into  it,  are  surrounded  with  a  world  of  new 
things,  which,  by  a  constant  solicitation  of  their  senses,  draw  the 
mind  constantly  to  them,  forward  to  take  notice  of  new,  and  apt 
to  be  delighted  with  the  variety  of  changing  objects.  Thus  the 
first  years  are  usually  employed  and  diverted  in  looking  abroad. 
Men's  business  in  them  is  to  acquaint  themselves  with  what  is  to 
be  found  without :  and  so  growing  up  in  a  constant  attention  to 
outward  sensations,  seldom  make  any  considerable  reflection  on 
what  passes  within  them  until  they  come  to  be  of  riper  years  ; 
and  some  scarce  ever  at  all. 

§  9.    THE  SOUL  BEGINS  TO  HAVE  IDEAS,  WHEN  IT  BEGINS  TO  FERCEIvr. 

To  ask  at  what  time  a  man  has  first  any  ideas,  is  to  ask  when  he 
begins  to  perceive  ;  having  ideas,  and  perception,  being  the  same 
thing.  I  know  it  is  an  opinion,  that  the  soul  always  thinks,  and 
that  it  has  the  actual  perception  of  ideas  in  itself  constantly  as 
long  as  it  exists  ;  and  that  actual  thinking  is  as  inseparable  from 
the  soul  as  actual  extension  is  from  the  body  ;  which,  if  true,  to 
inquire  after  the  beginning  of  a  man's  ideas  is  the  same  as  to 
inquire  after  the  beginning  of  his  soul :  for  by  this  account  soul 
and  its  ideas,  as  body  and  its  extension,  will  begin  to  exist  both 
at  the  same  time. 

§  10.    THE  SOUL  THINKS  NOT    ALWAYS,  FOR  THIS  WANTS    PROOFS. 

But  whether  the  soul  be  supposed  to  exist  antecedent  to,  or 
coeval  with,  or  some  time  after  the  first  rudiments  of  organization, 
or  the  beginnings  of  life  in  the  body,  1  leave  to  be  disputed  by 
those  who  have  better  thought  of  that  matter.  I  confess  myself 
to  have  one  of  those  dull  souls,  that  doth  not  perceive  itself 
always  to  contemplate  ideas,  nor  can  conceive  it  any  more  neces- 
sary for  the  soul  always  to  think,  than  for  the  body  always  to 
move;  the  perception  of  ideas  being  (as  1  conceive)  to  the 
soul  what  motion  is  to  the  body,  not  its  essence,  but  one  ol 
iis  operations.  And  therefore,  though  thinking  be  supposed 
r:ver  so  much  the  proper  action  of  the  soul,  yet  it  is  not 
necessary  to  suppose  that  it  should  be  always  thinking,  always 
in  action.  That  perhaps  is  the  privilege  of  the  infinite  Author 
and  Preserver  of  things,  who  never  slumbers  nor  sleeps;  but  it 
is  not  competent  to  any  finite  being,  at  least  not  to  the  soul  of 
man.     We  know  certainly,  by  experience,  that  we  sometimes 


112  -MEN  THINK  NOT  ALWAYS.  [BOOK  II. 

think,  and  thence  draw  this  infallible  consequence,  that  there  is 
something  in  us  that  has  a  power  to  think  :  but  whether  that 
substance  perpetually  thinks  or  no,  we  can  be  no  farther  assured 
than  experience  informs  us.  For  to  say  that  actual  thinking  is 
essential  to  the  soul,  and  inseparable  from  it,  is  to  beg  what  is  in 
question,  and  not  to  prove  it  by  reason  ;  which  is  necessary  to  be 
done,  if  it  be  not  a  self-evident  proposition.  But  whether  this, 
"  that  the  soul  always  thinks,"  be  a  self-evident  proposition,  that 
every  body  assents  to  at  first  hearing,  I  appeal  to  mankind.  It  is 
doubted  whether  1  thought  at  all  last  night  or  no  ;  the  question 
being  about  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  beginning  it  to  bring,  as  a  proof 
for  it,  an  hypothesis,  which  is  the  very  thing  in  dispute  ;  by  which 
way  one  may  prove  any  thing:  and  it  is  but  supposing  that  all 
watches,  whilst  the  balance  beats,  think ;  and  it  is  sufficiently 
proved,  and  past  doubt,  that  my  watch  thought  all  last  night. 
But  he  that  would  not  deceive  himself,  ought  to  build  his  hypo- 
thesis on  matter  of  fact,  and  make  it  out  by  sensible  experience, 
and  not  presume  on  matter  of  fact  because  of  his  hypothesis  : 
that  is,  because  he  supposes  it  to  be  so  :  which  way  of  proving 
amounts  to  this,  that  1  must  necessarily  think  all  last  night, 
because  another  supposes  I  always  think,  though  I  myself 
cannot  perceive  that  I  always  do  so. 

But  men  in  love  with  their  opinions  may  not  only  suppose  what 
is  in  question,  but  allege  wrong  matter  of  fact.  How  else  could 
any  one  make  it  an  inference  of  mine,  that  a  thing  is  not  because 
we  are  not  sensible  of  it  in  our  sleep  ?  I  do  not  say  there  is  no 
soul  in  a  man,  because  he  is  not  sensible  of  it  in  his  sleep  :  but  I 
do  say,  he  cannot  think  at  any  time,  waking  or  sleeping,  without 
being  sensible  of  it.  Our  being  sensible  of  it  is  not  necessary  to 
any  thing,  but  to  our  thoughts :  and  to  them  it  is,  and  to  them  it 
will  always  be,  necessary,  till  we  can  think  without  being  con- 
scious of  it. 

§   11.    IT  IS  NOT  ALWAYS  CONSCIOUS  OF  IT. 

I  grant  that  the  soul  in  a  waking  man  is  never  without  thought, 
because  it  is  the  condition  of  being  awake  :  but  whether  sleeping 
without  dreaming  be  not  an  affection  of  the  whole  man,  mind  as 
well  as  body,  may  be  worth  a  waking  man's  consideration  ;  it 
being  hard  to  conceive  that  any  thing  should  think,  and  not  be 
conscious  of  it.  If  the  soul  doth  think  in  a  sleeping  man  without 
being  conscious  of  it,  I  ask,  whether  during  such  thinking  it  has 
any  pleasure  or  pain,  or  be  capable  of  happiness  or  misery?  I 
am  sure  the  man  is  not,  any  more  than  the  bed  or  earth  he  lies  on. 
For  to  be  happy  or  miserable  without  being  conscious  of  it, 
^ceins  to  me  utterly  inconsistent  and  impossible.  Or  if  it  be 
possible  that  the  soul  can,  whilst  the  body  is  sleeping,  have  its 
ihinking,  enjoyments,  and  concerns,  its  pleasure  or  pain,  apart, 
which  the  man  is  not  conscious  of,  nor  partakes  in  ;  it  is  certain 
that  Socrates  asleep,  and  Socrates  awake  is  not  the  same  person  ; 


OS.    !.']  WEN  THINK  NOT   ALWAYS.  113 

but  his  soul  when  he  sleeps,  and  Socrates  the  man,  consisting  of 
body  and  sou),  when  he  is  waking,  are  two  persons ;  since  waking 
Socrates  has  no  knowledge  of,  or  concernment  for,  that  happi- 
ness or  misery  of  his  soul  which  it  enjoys  alone  by  itself  whilst 
he  sleeps,  without  perceiving  any  thing  of  it,  any  more  than  he 
has  for  the  happiness  or  misery  of  a  man  in  the  Indies,  whom  he 
knows  not.  For  if  we  take  wholly  away  all  consciousness  of  our 
actions  and  sensations,  especially  of  pleasure  and  pain,  and  the 
concernment  that  accompanies  it,  it  will  be  hard  to  know  wherein 
to  place  personal  identity. 

§  12.  IF  A  SLEEPING  MAN  THINKS  WITHOUT  KNOWING  IT,  THE  SLEEPING 
AND  WAKING  MAN  ARE  TWO   PERSONS. 

"The  soul,  during  sound  sleep,  thinks,"  say  these  men.  Whilst 
it  thinks  and  perceives,  it  is  capable  certainly  of  those  of  delight 
or  trouble,  as  well  as  any  other  perceptions  ;  and  it  must  neces- 
sarily be  conscious  of  its  own  perceptions.  But  it  has  all  this 
apart ;  the  sleeping  man,  it  is  plain,  is  conscious  of  nothing  of 
all  this.  Let  us  suppose  then  the  soul  of  Castor,  while  he  is 
sleeping,  retired  from  his  body,  which  is  no  impossible  supposi- 
tion for  the  men  I  have  here  to  do  with,  who  so  liberally  allow 
life,  without  a  thinking  soul,  to  all  other  animals.  These  men 
cannot  then  judge  it  impossible  or  a  contradiction,  that  the  body 
should  live  without  the  soul;  nor  that  the  soul  should  subsist  and 
think,  or  have  perception,  even  perception  of  happiness  or 
misery,  without  the  body.  Let  us  then,  as  I  say,  suppose  the 
soul  of  Castor  separated,  during  his  sleep,  from  his  body,  to  think 
apart.  Let  us  suppose  too,  that  it  chooses  for  its  scene  of  think- 
ing the  body  of  another  man,  v.  g.  Pollux,  who  is  sleeping  with- 
out a  soul :  for  if  Castor's  soul  can  think,  whilst  Castor  is  asleep, 
what  Castor  is  never  conscious  of,  it  is  no  matter  what  place  he 
chooses  to  think  in.  We  have  here  then  the  bodies  of  two  men 
with  only  one  soul  between  them,  which  we  will  suppose  to  sleep 
and  wake  by  turns  ;  and  the  soul  still  thinking  in  the  waking  man 
whereof  the  sleeping  man  is  never  conscious,  has  never  the  least 
perception.  I  ask  then,  whether  Castor  and  Pollux,  thus,  with 
only  one  soul  between  them,  which  thinks  and  perceives  in  one, 
what  the  other  is  never  conscious  of,  nor  is  concerned  for,  are  not 
two  as  distinct  persons  as  Castor  and  Hercules,  or  as  Socrates 
and  Plato  were  ?  And  whether  one  of  them  might  not  be  very 
happy,  and  the  other  very  miserable  ?  Just  by  the  same  reason 
they  make  the  soul  and  the  man  two  persons,  who  make  the  soul 
think  apart  what  the  man  is  not  conscious  of.  For  I  suppose 
nobody  will  make  identity  of  persons  to  consist  in  the  soul's  being 
united  to  the  very  same  numerical  particles  of  matter  ;  for  if 
that  be  necessary  to  identity,  it  will  be  impossible  in  that  constant 
tlux  of  the  particles  of  our  bodies,  that  any  man  should  be  the 
same  person  two  days,  or  two  moments  together. 

Vol.  J.  IS 


U4  MEN*  THINK  NOT  ALWAYS  [BOOK  II- 

§  13.  IMPOSSIBLE  TO  CONVINCE  THOSE  THAT  SLEEP  WITHOUT  DREAMING 
THAT  THEY  THJNK. 

Thus,  methinks,  every  drowsy  nod  shakes  their  doctrine,  who 
teach,  that  the  soul  is  always  thinking.  Those  at  least,  who  do 
at  any  time  sleep  without  dreaming,  can  never  be  convinced  that, 
their  thoughts  are  sometimes  for  four  hours  busy,  without  their 
knowing  of  it ;  and  if  they  are  taken  in  the  very  act,  waked  in 
the  middle  of  that  sleeping  contemplation,  can  give  no  manner 
of  account  of  it. 

61   14.    THAT    MEN  DREAM  WITHOUT  REMEMBERING  IT  IN  VAIN  URGED. 

It  will  perhaps  be  said,  "  that  the  soul  thinks  even  in  the  sound- 
est sleep,  but  the  memory  retains  it  not."  That  the  soul  in  a 
sleeping  man  should  be  this  moment  busy  a  thinking,  and  the 
next  moment  in  a  waking  man,  not  remember  nor  be  abie  to 
recollect  one  jot  of  all  those  thoughts,  is  very  hard  to  be  con- 
ceived, and  would  need  some  better  proof  than  bare  assertion  to 
make  it  be  believed.  For  who  can  without  any  more  ado,  but 
being  barely  told  so,  imagine  that  the  greatest  part  of  men  do, 
during  all  their  lives,  for  several  hours  every  day,  think  of  some- 
thing, which  if  they  were  asked,  even  in  the  middle  of  these 
thoughts,  they  could  remember  nothing  at  all  of?  Most  men,  I 
think,  pass  a  great  part  of  their  sleep  without  dreaming.  I  once 
knew  a  man  that  was  bred  a  scholar,  and  had  no  bad  memory,  who 
told  me,  he  had  never  dreamed  in  his  life  till  he  had  that  fever  he 
was  then  newly  recovered  of,  which  was  about  the  five  or  six 
and  twentieth  year  of  his  age.  I  suppose  the  world  affords  more 
such  instances  :  at  least  every  one's  acquaintance  will  furnish  him 
with  examples  enough  of  such  as  pass  most  of  their  nights  with- 
out dreaming. 

<?»  15:  UPON  THIS  HYPOTHESIS  THE  THOUGHTS  OF  A  SLEEPING  MAN- 
OUGHT  TO  BE  MOST  RATIONAL. 

To  think  often,  and  never  to  retain  it  so  much  as  one  moment, 
is  a  very  useless  sort  of  thinking  ;  and  the  soul,  in  such  a  state  of 
thinking,  does  very  little,  if  at  all,  excel  that  of  a  looking-glass, 
which  constantly  receives  a  variety  of  images,  or  ideas,  but  retains 
none  ;  they  disappear  and  vanish,  and  there  remain  no  footsteps 
of  them ;  the  looking-glass  is  never  the  better  for  such  ideas,  nor 
the  soul  for  such  thoughts.  Perhaps  it  will  be  said,  "  that  in  a 
waking  man  the  materials  of  the  body  are  employed,  and  made 
use  of  in  thinking  ;  and  that  the  memory  of  thoughts  is  retained 
by  the  impressions  that  are  made  on  the  brain,  and  the  traces 
there  left  after  such  thinking;  but  that  in  the  thinking  of  the  soul, 
which  is  not  perceived  in  a  sleeping  man,  there  the  soul  thinks 
apart,  and  making  no  use  of  the  organs  of  the  bodj",  leaves  no 
impressions  on  it,  and  consequently  no  memory  of  such  thoughts." 
Not  to  mention  again  the  absurdity  of  two  distinct  persons  which 
follows  from  this  supposition,  I  answer  farther,  that  whatever 


..ii.  l.'J  MEN  THINK  NOT  ALWAYS  J  I . ) 

ideas  the  mind  can  receive  and  contemplate  without  the  help  of 
the  body,  it  is  reasonable  to  conclude  it  can  retain  without  the 
help  of  the  body  too;  or  else  the.  soul,  or  any  separate  spirit, 
will  have  but  little  advantage  by  thinking.  If  it  has  no  memory 
of  its  own  thoughts  ;  if  it  cannot  lay  them  up  for  its  own  use. 
and  be  able  to  recall  them  upon  occasion:  if  it  cannot  reflect 
upon  what  is  past,  and  make  use  of  its  former  experiences,  rea- 
sonings, and  contemplations  ;  to  what  purpose  does  it  think  ? 
They,  who  make  the  soul  a  thinking  thing,  at  this  rate,  will  not 
make  it  a  much  more  noble  being,  than  those  do,  whom  they  con- 
demn for  allowing  it  to  be  nothing  but  the  subtilcst  parts  of  matter. 
Characters  drawn  on  dust,  that  the  first  breath  of  wind  effaces  ;  or 
impressions  made  on  a  heap  of  atoms,  or  animal  spirits,  are  alto- 
gether as  useful,  and  render  the  subject  as  noble,  as  the  thoughts  of 
a  soul  that  perish  in  thinking  ;  that  once  out  of  sight  are  gone  for 
ever,  and  leave  no  memory  of  themselves  behind  them.  Nature 
never  makes  excellent  things  for  mean  or  no  uses  :  and  it  is 
hardly  to  be  conceived,  that  our  infinitely  wise  Creator  should 
make  so  admirable  a  faculty  as  the  power  of  thinking,  that  faculty 
which  comes  nearest  the  excellency  of  his  own  incomprehensible 
being,  to  be  so  idly  and  uselessly  employed,  at  least  a  fourth  part 
of  its  time  here,  as  to  think  constantly,  without  remembering  any 
of  those  thoughts,  without  doing  any  good  to  itself  or  others,  or 
being  any  way  useful  to  any  other  part  of  the  creation.  If  we 
will  examine  it,  we  shall  not  find,  I  suppose,  the  motion  of  dull 
and  senseless  matter,  any  where  in  the  universe,  made  so  little 
use  of,  and  so  wholly  thrown  away. 

16.  ON  THIS  HYPOTHESIS  THE  SOUL  MUST  HAVE  IDEAS  NOT  DERIVED 
2  ROM  SENSATION  OR  REFLECTION,    OK  WHICH  THERE  IS  NO  APPEARANCE. 

It  is  true,  we  have  sometimes  instances  of  perception  whilst 
we  are  asleep,  and  retain  the  memory  of  those  thoughts;  but: 
how  extravagant  and  incoherent  for  the  most  part  they  are,  how 
little  conformable  to  the  perfection  and  order  of  a  rational  being, 
those  who  arc  acquainted  with  dreams  need  not  be  told.  This 
1  would  willingly  be  satisfied  in,  whether  the  soul,  when  it  thinks 
thus  apart,  and  as  it  were  separate  from  the  body,  acts  less 
rationally  than  when  conjointly  with  it  or  no.  If  its  separate 
thoughts  be  less  rational,  then  these  men  must  say,  that  the  soul 
owes  the  perfection  of  rational  thinking  to  the  body :  if  it  does 
not,  it  is  wonder  that  our  dreams  should  be,  for  the  most  part,  so 
frivolous  and  irrational ;  and  that  the  soul  should  retain  none  of 
its  more  rational  soliloquies  and  meditations. 

§   17.    IF  I   THINK  WHEN  I  KNOW   IT  NOT,  NOBODY   ELSE  CAN  KNOW  IT. 

Those  who  so  confidently  tell  us  that  "  the  soul  always  actually 
thinks,"  1  would  they  would  also  tell  us  what  those  ideas  are  that 
are  in  the  soul  of  a  child,  before,  or  just  at  the  uniou  with  the  body, 
before  it  hath  received  any  by  sensation.  The  dreams  of  sleeping 


116  MEN  THINK  NOT  ALWAYS.  \  [BOOK  H. 

men  are,  as  I  take  it,  all  made  up  of  the  waking  man's  ideas,  though 
for  the  most  part,  oddly  put  together.  It  is  strange,  if  the  soul 
has  ideas  of  its  own,  that  it  derived  not  from  sensation  or  reflec- 
tion (as  it  must  have,  if  it  thought  before  it  received  any  impres- 
sions from  the  body,)  that  it  should  never  in  its  private  thinking 
(so  private,  that  the  man  himself  perceives  it  not)  retain  any  oi 
them,  the  very  moment  it  wakes  out  of  them,  and  then  make  the 
man  glad  with  new  discoveries.  Who  can  find  it  reasonable  that 
the  soul  should,  in  its  retirement,  during  sleep  have  so  many 
hours'  thoughts,  and  yet  never  light  on  any  one  of  those  ideas  it 
borrowed  not  from  sensation  or  reflection  ;  or  at  least  preserve 
the  memory  of  none  but  such,  which,  being  occasioned  from  the 
body,  must  needs  be  less  natural  to  a  spirit  ?  It  is  strange  the  soul 
should  never  once  in  a  man's  whole  life  recall  over  any  of  its  pure 
native  thoughts,  and  those  ideas  it  had  before  it  borrowed  any 
thing  from  the  body  ;  never  bring  into  the  waking  man's  view 
any  other  ideas  but  what  have  a  tang  of  the  cask,  and  manifestly 
derive  that  original  from  that  union.  If  it  always  thinks,  and  so 
had  ideas  before  it  was  united,  or  before  it  received  any  from  the 
body,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  but  that  during  sleep  it  recollects 
its  native  ideas  ;  and  during  that  retirement  from  communicating 
with  the  body,  whilst  it  thinks  by  itself,  the  ideas  it  is  busied 
about  should  be,  sometimes  at  least,  those  more  natural  and 
congenial  ones  which  it  had  in  itself,  underived  from  the  body, 
or  its  own  operations  about  them  ;  which,  since  the  waking  man 
never  remembers ,  we  must  from  this  hypothesis  conclude,  either 
that  the  soul  remembers  something  that  the  man  does  not,  or  else 
that  memory  belongs  only  to  such  ideas  as  are  derived  from  the 
body  or  the  mind's  operations  about  them. 

6   18.    HOW  KNOWS  ANY    ONE  THAT  THE  SOUL  ALWAYS  THINKS  ?    FOR  IF 
IT  BE  NOT  A  SELF-EVIDENT  PROPOSITION,  IT  NEEDS  PROOF. 

I  wrould  be  glad  also  to  learn  from  these  men,  who  so  confi- 
dently pronounce,  that  the  human  soul,  or,  which  is  all  one,  that 
a  man  always  thinks,  how  they  come  to  know  it;  nay,  how  they 
come  to  know  that  they  themselves  think,  when  they  themselves 
do  not  perceive  it.  This,  I  am  afraid,  is  to  be  sure  without 
proofs  ;  and  to  know,  without  perceiving :  it  is,  1  suspect,  a 
confused  notion  taken  up  to  serve  an  hypothesis ;  and  none  of 
those  clear  truths,  that  either  their  own  evidence  forces  us  to 
admit,  or  common  experience  makes  it  impudence  to  deny.  For 
the  most  that  can  be  said  of  it  is,  that  it  is  possible  the  soul  may 
always  think,  but  not  always  retain  it  in  memory  :  and  I  say,  it 
is  as  possible  that  the  soul  may  not  always  think ;  and  much  more 
probable  that  it  should  sometimes  not  think,  than  that  it  should 
often  think,  and  that  a  long  while  together,  and  not  be  conscious 
to  itself  the  next  moment  after,  that  it  had  thought. 


CH.  I.'J  MEN  THINK  NOT  ALWAYS.  117 

6   19.  THAT  A  MAN  SHOULD  BE  BUSY  IN  THINKING,  AND  VET  NOT  RETAIN 
IT  THE  NEXT  MOMENT,  VERY  IMPROBABLE. 

To  suppose  the  soul  to  think,  and  the  man  not  to  perceive  it. 
is,  as  has  been  said,  to  make  two  persons  in  one  man  ;  and  if 
one  considers  well  these  men's  way  of  speaking,  one  should  be 
led  into  a  suspicion  that  they  do  so.  For  they  who  tell  us  that 
the  soul  always  thinks,  do  never,  that  I  remember,  say  that  a  man 
always  thinks.  Can  the  soul  think,  and  not  the  man  ?  or  a  man 
think,  and  not  be  conscious  of  it  ?  This,  perhaps,  would  be  sus- 
pected of  jargon  in  others.  If  they  say,  the  man  thinks  always, 
but  is  not  always  conscious  of  it;  they  may  as  well  say,  his  body 
is  extended  without  having  parts  :  for  it  is  altogether  as  intelli- 
gible to  say,  that  a  body  is  extended  without  parts,  as  that  any 
thing  thinks  without  being  conscious  of  it,  or  perceiving  that  it 
does  so.  They  who  talk  thus  may,  with  as  much  reason,  if  it  be 
necessary  to  their  hypothesis,  say,  that  a  man  is  always  hungry, 
but  that  he  does  not  always  feel  it :  whereas  hunger  consists  in 
that  very  sensation,  as  thinking  consists  in  being  conscious  that 
one  thinks.  If  they  say,  that  a  man  is  always  conscious  to  him- 
self of  thinking,  I  ask,  how  they  know  it.  Consciousness  is  the 
perception  of  what  passes  in  a  man's  own  mind.  Can  another 
man  perceive  that  1  am  conscious  of  any  thing,  when  I  perceive 
it  not  myself?  No  man's  knowledge  here  can  go  beyond  his 
experience.  Wake  a  man  out  of  a  sound  sleep,  and  ask  him 
what  he  was  that  moment  thinking  of.  If  he  himself  be  conscious 
of  nothing  he  then  thought  on,  he  must  be  a  notable  diviner  of 
thoughts  that  can  assure  him  that  he  was  thinking  ;  may  he  not 
with  more  reason  assure  him  he  was  not  asleep  ?  This  is 
something  beyond  philosophy  ;  and  it  cannot  be  less  than  reve- 
lation, that  discovers  to  another  thoughts  in  my  mind,  when  I  can 
find  none  there  myself:  and  they  must  needs  have  a  penetrating 
sight,  who  can  certainly  see  that  I  think,  when  I  cannot  perceive 
it  myself,  and  when  I  declare  that  I  do  not :  and  yet  can  see  that 
dogs  or  elephants  do  not  think,  when  they  give  all  the  demon- 
stration of  it  imaginable,  except  only  telling  us  that  they  do  so. 
This  some  may  suspect  to  be  a  step  beyond  the  Rosecrucians  \ 
it  scorning  easier  to  make  one's  self  invisible  to  others,  than  to 
make  another's  thoughts  visible  to  me,  which  are  not  visible  to 
himself.  But  it  is  but  defining  the  soul  to  be  "  a  substance  that 
always  thinks,"  and  the  business  is  done.  If  such  definition  be 
of  any  authority,  1  know  not  what  it  can  serve  for,  but  to  make 
many  men  suspect,  that  they  have  no  souls  at  all,  since  they  find 
a  good  part  of  their  lives  pass  away  without  thinking.  For  no 
definitions  that  1  know,  no  suppositions  of  any  sect,  are  of  force 
enough  to  destroy  constant  experience ;  and  perhaps  it  is  the 
affectation  of  knowing  beyond  what  we  perceive,  that  makes  so 
much  useless  dispute  and  noise  in  the  world. 


118  MEN  THINK  NOT  ALWAYS.  [BOOK  II. 

§  20.    NO  TDEAS  BUT  FROM  SENSATION  OR  REFLECTION  EVIDENT,  IF  WE 
OBSERVE  CHILDREN. 

1  see  no  reason  therefore  to  believe,  that  the  soul  thinks  before 
the  senses  have  furnished  it  with  ideas  to  think  on  ;  and  as  those 
are  increased  and  retained,  so  it  comes,  by  exercise,  to  improve 
its  faculty  of  thinking,  in  the  several  parts  of  it,  as  well  as  after- 
ward, by  compounding  those  ideas,  and  reflecting  on  its  own 
operations ;  it  increases  its  stock  as  well  as  facility,  in  remem- 
bering, imagining,  reasoning,  and  other  modes  of  thinking. 

§  21. 

He  that  will  suffer  himself  to  be  informed  by  observation  and 
experience,  and  not  make  his  own  hypothesis  the  rule  of  nature, 
will  find  few  signs  of  a  soul  accustomed  to  much  thinking  in  a 
new-born  child,  and  much  fewer  of  any  reasoning  at  all.  And 
yet  it  is  hard  to  imagine,  that  the  rational  soul  should  think  so 
much,  and  not  reason  at  all.  And  he  that  will  consider  that  in- 
fants newly  come  into  the  world,  spend  the  greatest  part  of  their 
time  in  sleep,  and  are  seldom  awake,  but  when  eitherhunger  calls 
for  the  teat,  or  some  pain  (the  most  importunate  of  all  sensations) 
or  some  other  violent  impression  upon  the  body,  forces  the  mind 
to  perceive  and  attend  to  it :  he,  I  say,  who  considers  this,  will, 
perhaps,  find  reason  to  imagine,  that  a  foetus  in  the  mother's  womb 
differs  not  much  from  the  state  of  a  vegetable  ;  but  passes  the 
greatest  part  of  its  time  without  perception  or  thought,  doing  very- 
little  in  a  place  where  it  needs  not  seek  for  food,  and  is  surrounded 
with  liquor,  always  equally  soft,  and  near  of  the  same  temper ; 
where  the  eyes  have  no  light,  and  the  ears,  so  shut  up,  are  not 
very  susceptible  of  sounds ;  and  where  there  is  little  or  no  va- 
riety, or  change  of  objects  to  move  the  senses. 

§  22. 

Follow  a  child  from  its  birth,  and  observe  the  alterations  that 
time  makes,  and  you  shall  find,  as  the  mind  by  the  senses  comes 
more  and  more  to  be  furnished  with  ideas,  it  comes  to  be  more 
and  more  awake  ;  thinks  more,  the  more  it  has  matter  to  think  on. 
After  some  time  it  begins  to  know  the  objects,  which,  being  most 
familiar  with  it,  have  made  lasting  impressions.  Thus  it  comes 
by  degrees  to  know  the  persons  it  daily  converses  with,  and 
distinguish  them  from  strangers ;  which  are  instances  and  effects 
of  its  coming  to  retain  and  distinguish  the  ideas  the  senses  convey 
to  it.  And  so  we  may  observe  how  the  mind,  by  degrees,  im- 
proves in  these,  and  advances  to  the  exercise  of  those  other 
faculties  of  enlarging,  compounding,  and  abstracting  its  ideas, 
and  of  reasoning  about  them,  and  reflecting  upon  all  these,  of 
which  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  more  hereafter. 

§23. 
If  it  shall  be  demanded,  then,  when  a  man  begins  to  have  any 


Cfl.  I.J  MEN  THINK  NOT  ALWAYS.  119 

ideas,  I  think  the  true  answer  is,  when  he  first  has  any  sensation. 
For  since  there  appear  not  to  be  any  ideas  in  the  mind,  before 
the  senses  have  conveyed  any  in,  I  conceive  that  ideas  in  the 
understanding  are  coeval  with  sensation ;  which  is  such  an 
impression  or  motion,  made  in  some  part  of  the  body,  as  produces 
some  perception  in  the  understanding.  It  is  about  these  impres- 
sions made  on  our  senses  by  outward  objects,  that  the  mind  seems 
first  to  employ  itself  in  such  operations  as  we  call  perception, 
remembering,  consideration,  reasoning,  &c. 

§  24.    THE  ORIGINAL  OF  ALL  OUR  KNOWLEDGE. 

In  time  the  mind  comes  to  reflect  on  its  own  operations  about 
the  ideas  got  by  sensation,  and  thereby  stores  itself  with  a  new 
set  of  ideas,  which  I  call  ideas  of  reflection.  These  are  the 
impressions  that  are  made  on  our  senses  by  outward  objects,  that 
are  extrinsical  to  the  mind,  and  its  own  operations,  proceeding 
from  powers  intrinsical  and  proper  to  itself:  which,  when  reflect- 
ed on  by  itself,  becoming  also  objects  of  its  contemplation,  are, 
as  I  have  said,  the  original  of  all  knowledge.  Thus,  the  first 
capacity  of  human  intellect  is,  that  the  mind  is  fitted  to  receive 
the  impressions  made  on  it,  either  through  the  senses  by  outward 
objects,  or  by  its  own  operations  when  it  reflects  on  them.  This 
is  the  first  step  a  man  makes  towards  the  discovery  of  any  thing, 
and  the  groundwork  whereon  to  build  all  those  notions  which 
ever  he  shall  have  naturally  in  this  world.  All  those  sublime 
thoughts  which  tower  above  the  clouds,  and  reach  as  high  as 
heaven  itself,  take  their  rise  and  footing  here  :  in  all  that  good 
extent  wherein  the  mind  wanders,  in  those  remote  speculations 
it  may  seem  to  be  elevated  with,  it  stirs  not  one  jot  beyond  those 
ideas  which  sense  or  reflection  have  offered  for  its  contemplation. 

§  25.    IN  THE  RECEPTION    OF    SIMPLE    IDEAS,    THE   UNDERSTANDING    IS 
FOR  THE  MOST  PART  PASSIVE. 

In  this  part  the  understanding  is  merely  passive  ;  and  whether 
or  no  it  will  have  these  beginnings,  and,  as  it  were,  materials  of 
knowledge,  is  not  in  its  own  power.  For  the  objects  of  our 
senses  do,  many  of  them,  obtrude  their  particular  ideas  upon 
our  minds  whether  we  will  or  no :  and  the  operations  of  our 
minds  will  not  let  us  be  without,  at  least,  some  obscure  notions 
of  them.  No  man  can  be  wholly  ignorant  of  what  he  does  when 
he  thinks.  These  simple  ideas,  when  offered  to  the  mind, 
the  understanding  can  no  more  refuse  to  have,  nor  alter,  when 
they  are  imprinted,  nor  blot  them  out,  and  make  new  ones  itself, 
than  a  mirror  can  refuse,  alter,  or  obliterate  the  images  or 
ideas  which  the  objects  set  before  it  do  therein  produce.  As 
the  bodies  that  surround  us  do  diversely  affect  our  organs,  the 
mind  is  forced  to  receive  the  impressions,  and  cannot  avoid  the 
perception  of  those  ideas  that  are  annexed  to  thorn. 


120 
CHAPTER  II. 

OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS. 

§  1.  UNCOMPOUNDED  APPEARANCES. 

The  better  to  understand  the  nature,  manner,  and  extent  of 
our  knowledge,  one  thing  is  carefully  to  be  observed  concerning 
the  ideas  we  have :  and  that  is,  that  some  of  them  are  simple, 
and  some  complex. 

Though  the  qualities  that  affect  our  senses  are,  in  the  things 
themselves,  so  united  and  blended,  that  there  is  no  separation, 
no  distance  between  them  ;  yet  it  is  plain  the  ideas  they  pro- 
duce in  the  mind  enter  by  the  senses  simple  and  unmixed  :  for 
though  the  sight  and  touch  often  take  in  from  the  same  object, 
at  the  same  time,  different  ideas,  as  a  man  sees  at  once  motion 
and  colour,  the  hand  feels  softness  and  warmth  in  the  same  piece 
of  wax  ;  yet  the  simple  ideas,  thus  united  in  the  same  subject,  are 
as  perfectly  distinct  as  those  that  come  in  by  different  senses  : 
the  coldness  and  hardness  which  a  man  feels  in  a  piece  of  ice 
being  as  distinct  ideas  in  the  mind  as  the  smell  and  whiteness  of 
a  lily  ;  or  as  the  taste  of  sugar,  and  smell  of  a  rose.  And  there 
is  nothing  can  be  plainer  to  a  man  than  the  clear  and  distinct 
perception  he  has  of  those  simple  ideas;  which,  being  each  in 
itself  uncompounded,  contains  in  it  nothing  but  one  uniform  ap- 
pearance or  conception  in  the  mind,  and  is  not  distinguishable 
into  different  ideas. 

§  2.    THE  MIND  CAN  NEITHER  MAKE  NOR  DESTROY  THEM. 

These  simple  ideas,  the  materials  of  all  our  knowledge,  are 
suggested  and  furnished  to  the  mind  only  by  those  two  ways 
above  mentioned,  viz.  sensation  and  reflection.(l)     When  the 

(1)  Against  this,  that  the  materials  of  all  our  knowledge  are  suggested,  and 
furnished  to  the  mind  only  by  sensation  and  reflection,  the  Bishop  of  Worcester 
makes  use  of  the  idea  of  substance  in  these  words  :  "  If  the  idea  of  substance  be 
grounded  upon  plain  and  evident  reason,  then  we  must  allow  an  idea  of  substance, 
which  comes  not  in  by  sensation  or  reflection  ;  and  so  we  may  be  certain  of  some- 
thing which  we  have  not  by  these  ideas." 

To  which  our  author  answers  :*  These  words  of  your  lordship's  contain  nothing 
as  I  see  in  them  against  ma  :  for  I  never  said  that  the  general  idea  of  substance 
comes  in  by  sensation  and  reflection,  or  that  it  is  a  simple  idea  of  sensation  or 
reflection,  though  it  be  ultimately  founded  in  them  ;  for  it  is  a  complex  idea,  made 
up  of  the  general  idea  of  something,  or  being  with  the  relation  of  a  support  to 
accidents.  For  general  ideas  come  not  into  the  mind  by  sensation  or  reflection, 
but  are  the  creatures  or  inventions  of  the  understanding,  as  I  think  I  have  shown  ;t 
and  also  how  the  mind  makes  them  from  ideas  which  it  has  got  by  sensation  and 
reflection  :  and  as  to  the  ideas  of  relation,  how  the  mind  forms  them,  and  how 
they  are  derived  from,  and  ultimately  terminate  in,  ideas  of  sensation  and  reflec- 
tion I  have  likewise  shown. 

*  In  bis  first  letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Worcester.  '  B.  3.  c.3.  B.  2.  c.  25.&  c.  28.  f  Jfi 


■  ii.  11.  I  Oi    SIMPLE  IDEA^  \Z\ 

understanding  is  once  stored  with  these  simple  ideas,  it  has  the 
power  to  repeat,  compare,  and  unite  them,  even  to  an  almost  in- 
iinite  variety ;  and  so  can  make  at  pleasure  new  complex  ideas. 
But  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  the  most  exalted  wit  or  enlarged 
understanding,  by  any  quickness  or  variety  of  thought,  to  invent 
or  frame  one  new  simple  idea  in  the  mind,  not  taken  in  by  the 
ways  aforementioned  :  nor  can  any  force  of  the  understanding 

But  that  I  may  not  be  mistaken,  what  I  mean,  when  I  speak  of  ideas  of  sensa- 
tion  and  reflection,  as  the  materials  of  all  our  knowledge ;  give  me  leave,  my  lord, 
to  set  down  here  a  place  or  two,  out  of  my  book,  to  explain  myself;  as  1  thus 
speak  of  ideas  of  sensation  and  reflection  : 

"  That  these,  when  we  have  taken  a  full  survey  of  them,  and  their  several 
modes,  and  the  compositions  made  out  of  them,  we  shall  find  to  contain  all  out- 
whole  stock  of  ideas,  and  we  have  nothing  in  our  minds,  which  did  not  come  in 
one  of  these  two  ways."*     This  thought,  in  another  place,  I  express  thus, 

"  These  arc  the  most  considerable  of  those  simple  ideas  which  the  mind  has,  and 
out  of  which  is  made  all  its  other  knowledge  ;  all  which  it  receives  by  the  two  fore1 
mentioned  ways  of  sensation  and  reflection. "t     And, 

"  Tims  I  have,  in  a  short  draught,  given  a  view  of  our  original  ideas,  from 
whence  all  the  rest  are  derived,  and  of  whftjh  they  are  made  up. "^ 

This,  and  the  like,  said  in  other  placf.s,  is  what  I  have  thought  concerning  ideas 
of  sensation  and  reflection,  as  the  foundation  and  materials  of  all  our  ideas,  and 
consequently  of  all  our  knowledge  :  I  have  set  down  these  particulars  out  of  my 
book,  that  the  reader,  having  a  full  view  of  my  opinion  herein,  may  the  better 
see  what  in  it  is  liable  to  your  lordship's  reprehension.  For  that  your  lordship  is 
not  very  well  satisfied  with  it,  appears  not  only  by  the  Words  under  consideration, 
but  by  these  also  :  "  But  we  are  still  told,  that  our  understanding  can  have  nu 
other  ideas,  but  either  from  sensation  or  reflection." 

Your  lordship's  argument,  in  the  passage  we  are  upon,  stands  thus  :  if  the  gene- 
ral idea  of  substance  be  grounded  upon  plain  and  evident  reason,  then  we  must 
allow  an  idea  of  substance,  which  comes  not  in  by  sensation  or  reflection.  This 
is  a  consequence  which,  with  submission,  1  think  will  not  hold,  viz.  That  reason 
and  ideas  are  inconsistent;  for  if  that  supposition  be  not  true,  then  the  general 
idea  of  substance  may  be  grounded  on  plain  and  evident  reason ;  and  yet  it  will  uol: 
follow  from  thence,  that  it  is  not  ultimately  grounded  on,  and  derived  from,  ideas 
which  come  in  by  sensation  or  reflection,  and  so  cannot  be6aid  to  come  in  by  sen- 
sation or  reflection. 

T-0  explain  myself,  and  clear  my  meaning  in  this  matter.  All  Uie  ideas  of  all 
the  sensible  qualities  of  a  cherry  come  into  my  mind  by  sensation ;  the  ideas  of 
perceiving,  thinking,  reasoning,  knowing,  &c.  come  into  my  mind  by  reflection 
The  ideas  of  these  qualities  and  actions,  or  powers,  are  perceived  by  the  mind  to 
be  by  themselves  inconsistent  with  existence  :  or  as  your  lordship  well  expresses 
it,  we  find  that  we  can  have  no  true  conception  of  any  modes  or  accidents, but  we 
must  conceive  a  substratum,  or  subject,  wherein  they  are,  i.  e.  That  they  cannot 
exi*t  or  subsist  of  themselves.  Hence  the  mind  perceives  their  necessary  con- 
nexion  with  inherence,  or  being  supported ;  which  being  a  relative  idea,  superadd- 
ed to  the  red  colour  in  a  cherry,  or  to  thinking  in  a  man,  the  mind  frames  the  cor- 
relative idea  of  a  support.  For  I  never  denied  that  the  mind  could  frame  to  itself 
ideas  of  relation,  but  have  showed  the  quite  contrary  in  my  chapters  about  rela- 
tion. J5ut  because  a  relation  cannot  be  founded  in  nothing,  or  be  the  relation  ol 
nothing,  and  the  thing  here  related  as  a  supporter,  or  a  support,  is  not  represented 
to  the  mind  by  any  clear  and  distinct  idea;  therefore  the  obscure  and  indistinct 
vague  idea  of  thing,  or  something,  is  all  that  is  left  to  be  the  positive 
which  has  the  relation  of  a  support  or  substratum,  to  modes  or  accidents;  and 
that  general  indetcrmined  idea  of  something  is,  by  the  abstraction  of  the  min^, 
I  al-o  In. in  the  simple  ideas  of  sensation  and  reflection  :  and  thus  the  mind, 
from  the  positive,  simple  idea3  got  by  sensation  and  reflection,  comes  to  the  gene- 
ral relative  idea  of  substance,  which,  without  these  positive  simple  ideas,  it  would 
•i."'.  rr  hav<\ 

):.-  '    '.  •  |  B.2.c  '•■'■  10, ;  B.2,c.2i    '  K 

Vol.  Ii  K. 


122  OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS,  [COOK  11, 

destroy  those  that  are  there.  The  dominion  of  man  in  this  little 
world  of  his  own  understanding,  being  much-what  the  same  as  it 
is  in  the  great  world  of  visible  things  ;  wherein  his  power,  how- 
ever managed  by  art  and  skill,  reaches  no  farther  than  to  com- 
pound and  divide  the  materials  that  are  made  to  his  hand  ;  but 
can  do  nothing  towards  the  making  the  least  particle  of  new 
matter,  or  destroying  one  atom  of  what  is  already  in  being.  The 
same  inability  will  every  one  find  in  himself,  who  shall  go  about 
to  fashion  in  his  understanding  any  simple  idea,  not  received  in  by 
his  senses  from  external  objects,  or  by  reflection  from  the  opera- 
tions of  his  own  mind  about  them.  1  would  have  any  one  try  to 
fancy  any  taste,  which  had  never  affected  his  palate  ;  or  frame 
the  idea  of  a  scent  he  had  never  smelt :  and  when  he  can  do  this, 
I  will  also  conclude  that  a  blind  man  hath  ideas  of  colours,  and  a 
deaf  man  true  distinct  notions  of  sounds. 

§3. 

This  is  the  reason  why,  though  we  cannot  believe  it  impossi- 
ble to  God  to  make  a  creature  with  other  organs,  and  more 
ways  to  convey  into  the  understanding  the  notice  of  those  cor- 
poreal things  than  those  five,  as  they  are  usually  counted,  which 
he  has  given  to  man  :  yet  I  think  it  is  not  possible  for  any  one  to 
imagine  any  other  qualities  in  bodies,  howsoever  constituted, 
whereby  they  can  be  taken  notice  of,  besides  sounds,  tastes, 
smells,  visible  and  tangible  qualities.  And  had  mankind  been 
made  but  with  four  senses,  the  qualities  then  which  are  the  ob- 
ject of  the  fifth  sense  had  been  as  far  from  our  notice,  imagina- 
tion, and  conception,  as  now  any  belonging  to  a  sixth,  seventh, 
or  eighth  sense  can  possibly  be  :  which,  whether  yet  some  other 
creatures,  in  some  other  parts  of  this  vast  and  stupendous  uni- 

This  youif  lordship  (without  giving  by  retail  all  the  particular  step?  of 
the  mind  in  this  business)  has  well  expressed  in  this  more  familiar  way  :  We 
hud  we  can  have  no  true  conception  of  any  modes  or  accidents,  but  we  must 
conceive  a  substratum,  or  subject,  wherein  they  are ;  since  it  is  a  repugnancy 
to  our  conceptions  of  things,  that  modes  or  accidents  should  subsist  by  them- 
selves. 

Hence  your  lordship  calls  it  the  rational  idea  of  substance  :  and  says,  "  I  grant 
that  by  sensation  and  reflection  we  come  to  know  the  powers  and  proper- 
ties of  things  ;  but  our  reason  is  satisfied  that  there  must  be  something  beyond 
these,  because  it  is  impossible  that  they  should  subsist  by  themselves  :"  so  that  if 
this  be  that  which  your  lordship  means  by  the  rational  idea  of  substance,  1  see 
nothing  there  is  in  it  against  what  I  have  said,  that  it  is  founded  on  simple  ideas 
of  sensation  or  reflection,  and  that  it  is  a  very  obscure  idea. 

Your  lordship's  conclusion  from  your  foregoing  words  is,  "  and  so  we  may  be 
certain  of  some  things  which  we  have  not  by  those  ideas ;"  which  is  a  proposition, 
av  hose  precise  meaning  your  lordship  will  forgive  me,  if  I  profess,  as  it  stands  there, 
I  do  not  understand.  For  it  is  uncertain  to  me,  whether  your  lordship  mean.-,  we 
may  certainly  know  the  existence  of  something,  which  we  have  not  by  those 
ideas  ;  or  certainly  know  the  distinct  properties  of  something,  which  we  have  not 
I  iv  those  ideas  ;  or  certainly  know  the  truth  of  some  proposition,  which  we  have 
not  by  those  ideas  :  for  to  be  certain  of  something  may  signify  either  of  these. 
But  in  which  speXre*  of  these  it  be  .meant,  I  do  not  see  how  I  am  concerned 
hi  it; 


CH.  III.]  OF  IDEAS  OF  ONE  SENSE.  I  >.) 

verse,  may  not  have,  will  be  a  great  presumption  to  deny.  lie 
that  will  not  set  himself  proudly  at  the  top  of  all  things,  but  will 
consider  the  immensity  of  this  fabric,  and  the  great  variety  that 
is  to  be  found  in  this  little  and  inconsiderable  part  of  it  which  he 
has  to  do  with,  may  be  apt  to  think,  that  in  other  mansions  of  it 
there  may  be  other  and  different  intelligent  beings,  of  whose 
faculties  he  has  as  little  knowledge  or  apprehension,  as  a  worm 
shut  up  in  one  drawer  of  a  cabinet  hath  of  the  senses  or  under- 
standing of  a  man  :  such  variety  and  excellency  being  suitable  to 
the  wisdom  and  power  of  the  Maker.  I  have  here  followed  the 
common  opinion  of  man's  having  but  five  senses  ;  though,  per- 
haps, there  may  be  justly  counted  more  :  but  either  supposition 
serves  equally  to  my  present  purpose. 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF  IDEAS  OF  ONE  SENSE. 


(j   1.    DIVISION  OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS. 

The  better  to  conceive  the  ideas  we  receive  from  sensation- 
it  may  not  be  amiss  for  us  to  consider  them  in  reference  to  the 
different  ways  whereby  they  make  their  approaches  to  our  minds, 
uid  make  themselves  perceivable  by  us. 

First,  then,  There  are  some  which  come  into  our  minds  b\ 
one  sense  only. 

Secondly,  There  arc  others  that  convey  themselves  into  the 
mind  by  more  senses  than  one. 

Thirdly,  Others  that  arc  had  from  reflection  only. 

Fourthly,  There  arc  some  that  make  themselves  way,  and  are 
-ugt,restcdto  the  mind  by  all  the  ways  of  sensation  and  reflection. 

We  shall  consider  them  apart  under  their  several  heads. 

IDEAS  OF  ONE  SENSE,  AS  C0L0U11S,  OF  SEEING,  SOUND,  OR  HEARING,  ETC. 

First,  There  are  some  ideas  which  have  admittance  only 
through  one  sense,  which  is  peculiarly  adapted  to  receive  them. 
Thus  light  and  colours,  as  white,  red,  yellow,  blue,  with  their 
several  degrees  or  shades,  and  mixtures,  as  green,  scarlet, 
purple,  sea-green,  and  the  rest,  come  in  only  by  the  eyes :  all 
kinds  of  noises,  sounds,  and  tones,  only  by  the  ears :  the  several 
tastes  and  smells,  by  the  nose  and  palate.  And  if  these  organs, 
or  the  nerves,  which  arc  the  conduits  to  convey  them  from  with- 
out to  their  audience  in  the  brain,  the  mind's  presence  room  (as 
I  may  so  call  it)  are  any  of  them  so  disordered,  as  not  to  perform 
their  functions,  they  have  no  postern  to  be  admitted  by  ;  no  other 
way  to  bring  themselves  into  view.  and  be  perceived  by  the  un- 
derstanding. 


J  Z-i  IDEA    OF    SOLIDITY.  [BOOK  II 

The  most  considerable  of  those  belonging  to  the  touch  are 
heat  and  cold,  and  solidity ;  all  the  rest,  consisting  almost  wholly 
in  the  sensible  configuration,  as  smooth  and  rough,  or  else  more, 
or  less  firm  adhesion  of  the  parts,  as  hard  and  soft,  tough  and 
brittle,  are  obvious  enough. 

§  2.    FEW  SIMPLE  IDEAS  HAVE  JiAMES. 

I  think  it  will  be  needless  to  enumerate  all  the  particular  sim- 
ple ideas  belonging  to  each  sense.  Nor  indeed  is  it  possible,  if 
we  would  ;  there  being  a  great  many  more  of  them  belonging  to 
most  of  the  senses,  than  we  have  names  for.  The  variety  of 
smells,  which  are  as  many  almost,  if  not  more,  than  species  of 
bodies  in  the  world,  do  most  of  them  want  names.  Sweet  and 
stinking,  commonly  serve  our  turn  for  these  ideas,  which  in  effect 
is  little  more  than  to  call  them  pleasing  or  displeasing  ;  though 
the  smell  of  a  rose  and  violet,  both  sweet,  are  certainly  very  dis- 
tinct ideas,  Nor  are  the  different  tastes,  that  by  our  palates  we 
receive  ideas  of,  much  better  provided  with  names.  Sweet,  bit- 
ter, sour,  harsh,  and  salt,  are  almost  all  the  epithets  we  have  to 
denominate  that  numberless  variety  of  relishes  which  are  to  be 
found  distinct,  not  only  in  almost  every  sort  of  creatures,  but  in 
the  different  parts  of  the  same  plant,  fruit,  or  animal.  The  same 
may  be  said  of  colours  and  sounds.  1  shall  therefore,  in  the  ac- 
count of  simple  ideas  I  ani  here  giving,  content  myself  to  set 
down  only  such  as  are  most  material  to  our  present  purpose,  or 
are  in  themselves  less  apt  to  be  taken  notice  of,  though  they  are 
yery  frequently  the  ingredients  of  our  complex  ideas,  among  which, 
I  think,  I  may  well  account  solidity ;  which  therefore  I  shall  treat 
pf  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER   IV 

OF  SOLIDITY. 


§   1.    WE  RECEIVE  THIS  IDEA  FROM  TOl-CH. 

The  idea  of  solidity  we  receive  by  our  touch  ;  and  it  arises 
j'rom  the  resistance  which  we  find  in  body,  to  the  entrance  of  any 
other  body  into  the  place  it  possesses,  till  it  has  left  it.  There  is 
no  idea  which  we  receive  more  constantly  from  sensation  than 
t-olidity.  Whether  we  move  or  rest,  in  what  posture  soever  we 
•are,  we  always  feel  something  under  us  that  supports  us,  and 
hinders  our  farther  sinking  downward  :  and  the  bodies  which  we 
daily  handle  make  us  perceive,  that,  whilst  they  remain  between 
them,  they  do  by  an  insurmountable  force  hinder  the  approach  of 
the  parts  of  our  hands  that  press  them.  That  which  thus  hin- 
ders the  approach  of  two  bodies,  when  they  are  moved  one 


CH.  IV.]  IDEA  OF  S0LIDIT1.  12a 

toward  another,  I  call  solidity.  I  will  not  dispute  whether  this 
acceptation  of  the  word  solid  be  nearer  to  its  original  signification 
than  that  which  mathematicians  use  it  in  :  it  suffices,  that  I  think 
the  common  notion  of  solidity  will  allow,  if  not  justify  this  use  of 
it ;  but,  if  any  one  think  it  better  to  call  it  impenetrability,  he 
has  my  consent.  Only  1  have  thought  the  term  solidity  the  more 
proper  to  express  this  idea,  not  only  because  of  its  vulgar  use  in 
that  sense,  but  also  because  it  carries  something  more  of  positive 
in  it  than  impenetrability,  which  is  negative,  and  is  perhaps  more 
a  consequence  of  solidity  than  solidity  itself.  This,  of  all  others 
seems  the  idea  most  intimately  connected  with,  and  essential  to, 
body,  so  as  nowhere  else  to  be  found  or  imagined,  but  only  in 
matter.  And  though  our  senses  take  no  notice  of  it,  but  in 
masses  of  matter,  of  a  bulk  sufficient  to  cause  a  sensation  in  us ; 
yet  the  mind,  having  once  got  this  idea  from  such  grosser  sensible 
bodies,  traces  it  farther  ;  and  considers  it,  as  well  as  figure,  in 
the  minutest  particle  of  matter  that  can  exist  5  and  finds  it  inse- 
parably inherent  in  body,  wherever  or  however  modified. 

§  2.    SOLIDITY    FILLS  SPACE. 

This  is  the  idea  which  belongs  to  body,  whereby  we  conceive 
it  to  fill  space.  The  idea  of  which  filling  of  space  is,  that,  where 
we  imagine  any  space  taken  up  by  a  solid  substance,  we  con- 
ceive it  so  to  possess  it,  that  it  excludes  all  other  solid  substances; 
and  will  for  ever  hinder  any  other  two  bodies,  that  move  toward 
one  another  in  a  straight  line,  from  coming  to  touch  one  another, 
unless  it  removes  from  between  them,  in  a  line  not  parallel  to 
that  which  they  move  in.  This  idea  of  it  the  bodies  which  we 
ordinarily  handle  sufficiently  furnish  us  with. 

§  3.    DISTINCT  FROM  SPACE. 

This  resistance,  whereby  it  keeps  other  bodies  out  of  the 
space  which  it  possesses,  is  so  great,  that  no  force,  how  great  so- 
ever, can  surmount  it.  All  the  bodies  in  the  world,  pressing  u 
drop  of  water  on  all  sides,  will  never  be  able  to  overcome  the 
resistance  which  it  will  make,  sofi  as  it  is,  to  their  approaching 
one  another,  till  it  be  removed  out  of  their  way  :  whereby  ouv 
idea  of  solidity  is  distinguished  both  from  pure  space,  which  is 
capable  neither  of  resistance  nor  motion,  and  from  the  ordinary 
idea  of  hardness.  For  a  man  may  conceive  two  bodies  at  a  dis- 
tance, so  as  they  may  approach  one  another,  without  touching  or 
displacing  any  solid  thing,  till  their  superficies  come  to  meet : 
whereby,  1  think,  we  have  the  clear  idea  of  space  without  soli- 
dity. For  (not  to  go  so  far  as  annihilation  of  any  particular 
body)  I  ask,  whether  a  man  cannot  have  the  idea  of  the  motion 
of  one  single  body  alone  without  any  other  succeeding  immedi- 
ately into  its  place  ?  I  think  it  is  evident  he  can  :  the  idea  of  mo- 
tion in  one  body  no  more  including  the  idea  of  motion  in  another. 
Uian  the  idea  of  a  square  figure  in  one  body  includes  tne  idea  of 


126  IDEA  OF  SOLIDITY.  [BOOK  IT. 

-a  square  figure  in  another.  I  do  not  ask,  whether  bodies  do  so 
exist  that  the  motion  of  one  body  cannot  be  really  without  the 
motion  of  another  ?  To  determine  this  cither  way,  is  to  beg  the 
question  for  or  against  a  vacuum.  But  my  question  is,  whether 
one  cannot  have  the  idea  of  one  body  moved  whilst  others  are  at 
rest  1  And  I  think  this  no  one  will  deny.  If  so,  then  the  place 
it  deserted  gives  us  the  idea  of  pure  space  without  solidity, 
whereinto  any  other  body  may  enter,  without  either  resistance 
or  protrusion  of  any  thing.  When  the  sucker  in  a  pump  is 
drawn,  the  space  it  filled  in  the  tube  is  certainly  the  same 
whether  any  other  body  follows  the  motion  of  the  sucker  or  not : 
nor  does  it  imply  a  contradiction  that,  upon  the  motion  of  one. 
body,  another  that  is  only  contiguous  to  it  should  not  follow  it. 
The  necessity  of  such  a  motion  is  built  only  on  the  supposition 
that  the  world  is  full,  but  not  on  the  distinct  ideas  of  space  and 
solidity  ;  which  are  as  different  as  resistance  and  not  resistance  ; 
protrusion  and  not  protrusion.  And  that  men  have  ideas  of 
space  without  a  body,  their  very  disputes  about  a  vacuum  plainly 
demonstrate  ;  as  is  showed  in  another  place. 

§  4.    FROM  HARDNESS. 

Solidity  is  hereby  also  differenced  from  hardness,  in  that  soli- 
dity consists  in  repletion,  and  so  an  utter  exclusion  of  other 
bodies  out  of  the  space  it  possesses  ;  but  hardness,  in  a  firm  cohe- 
sion of  the  parts  of  matter,  making  up  masses  of  a  sensible  bulk, 
so  that  the  whole  does  not  easily  change  its  figure.  And  indeed, 
hard  and  soft  are  names  that  we  give  to  things  only  in  relation 
to  the  constitutions  of  our  own  bodies  ;  that  being  generally 
called  hard  by  us  which  will  put  us  to  pain  sooner  than  change 
figure  by  the  pressure  of  any  part  of  our  bodies ;  and  that  on 
the  contrary  soft,  which  changes  the  situation  of  its  parts  upon 
an  easy  and  unpainful  touch. 

But  this  difficulty  of  changing  the  situation  of  the  sensible 
parts  among  themselves,  or  of  the  figure  of  the  whole,  gives  no 
more  solidity  to  the  hardest  body  in  the  world,  than  to  the  softest; 
nor  is  an  adamant  one  jot  more  solid  than  water.  For  though 
the  two  flat  sides  of  two  pieces  of  marble  will  more  easily  ap- 
proach each  other,  between  which  there  is  nothing  but  water  or 
air,  than  if  there  be  a  diamond  between  them ;  yet  it  is  not  that 
the  parts  of  the  diamond  are  more  solid  than  those  of  water,  or 
resist  more  ;  but  because,  the  parts  of  water  being  more  easily 
separable  from  each  other,  they  will,  by  a  side-motion,  be  more 
easily  removed,  and  give  way  to  the  approach  of  the  two  pieces 
of  marble.  But  if  they  could  be  kept  from  making  place  by  that 
side-motion,  they  would  eternally  hinder  the  approach  of  these 
two  pieces  of  marble  as  much  as  the  diamond  ;  and  it  would  be 
as  impossible  by  any  force  lo  surmount  their  resistance,  as  to 
surmount  the  resistance  of  the  parts  of  a  diamond.  The  softest 
body  in  the  world  will  as  invincibly  resist  the  coming  together  of 


CII.  IV.]  IDEA  OF  SOLIDITY.  [>'i 

any  other  two  bodies,  if  it  be  not  put  out  of  the  way,  but  remain 
between  them,  as  the  hardest  that  can  be  found  or  imagined. 
He  that  shall  fill  a  yielding  soft  body  well  with  air  or  water,  will 
quickly  find  its  resistance  :  and  he  that  thinks  that  nothing  but 
bodies  that  are  hard  can  keep  his  hands  from  approaching  one 
another,  will  be  pleased  to  make  a  trial  with  the  air  enclosed  in  a 
football.  The  experiment,  I  have  been  told,  was  made  at  Flo- 
rence with  a  hollow  globe  of  gold  tilled  with  water,  and  exactly 
closed,  which  farther  shows  the  solidity  of  so  soft  a  body  as 
water.  For  the  golden  globe  thus  filled  being  put  into  a  press 
which  was  driven  by  the  extreme  force  of  screws,  the  water 
made  itself  way  through  the  pores  of  that  very  close  metal;  and, 
rinding  no  room  for  a  nearer  approach  of  its  particles  within,  got 
to  the  outside,  where  it  rose  like  a  dew,  and  so  fell  in  drops,  be- 
fore the  sides  of  the  globe  could  be  make  to  yield  to  the  violent 
compression  of  the  engine  that  squeezed  it. 

§5.  ON  SOLIDITY  DEPEND  IMPULSE,  RESISTANCE,  AND  PROTRUSION, 

By  this  idea  of  solidity,  is  the  extension  of  body  distinguished 
from  the  extension  of  space  :  the  extension  of  body  being  nothing 
but  the  cohesion  or  continuity  of  solid,  separable,  moveable 
parts  5  and  the  extension  of  space,  the  continuity  of  unsolid,  in- 
separable, and  immoveable  parts.  Upon  the  solidity  of  bodies 
also  depend  their  mutual  impulse,  resistance,  and  protrusion.  Of 
pure  space  then,  and  solidity,  there  are  several,  (among  which  I 
confess  myself  one)  who  persuade  themselves  they  have  clear  and 
distinct  ideas ;  and  that  they  can  think  on  space,  without  any 
thing  in  it  that  resists  or  is  protruded  by  body.  This  is  the  idea 
of  pure  space,  which  they  think  they  have  as  clear  as  any  idea 
they  can  have  of  the  extension  of  body  ;  the  idea  of  the  distance 
between  the  opposite  parts  of  a  concave  superficies  being  equally 
as  clear  without  as  with  the  idea  of  any  solid  parts  between  :  and 
on  the  other  side  they  persuade  themselves,  that  they  have,  dis- 
tinct from  that  of  pure  space,  the  idea  of  something  that  fills 
space,  that  can  be  protruded  by  the  impulse  of  other  bodies,  or 
resist  their  motion.  If  there  be  others  that  have  not  these  two 
ideas  distinct,  but  confound  them,  and  make  but  one  of  them,  I 
know  not  how  men,  who  have  the  same  idea  under  different 
names,  or  different  ideas  under  the  same  name,  can  in  that  case 
talk  with  one  another ;  any  more  than  a  man,  who,  not  being 
blind  or  deaf,  has  distinct  ideas  of  the  colour  of  scarlet,  and  the 
sound  of  a  trumpet,  could  discourse  concerning  scarlet  colour 
with  the  blind  man  I  mention  in  another  place,  who  fancied  that 
the  idea  of  scarlet  was  like  the  sound  of  a  trumpet. 

§  6.    WHAT  IT  IS. 

If  any  one  ask  me  what  this  solidity  is  ?  I  send  him  to  his 
senses  to  inform  him  ;  let  him  put  a  flint  or  a  football  between 
his  hands,  and  then  endeavour  to  join  them,  and  he  will  know. 


128  OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS  OF  REFLECTION.      [BOOK  U 

If  he  thinks  this  not  a  sufficient  explication  of  solidity,  what  it  is, 
and  wherein  it  consists,  I  promise  to  tell  him  what  it  is,  and 
wherein  it  consists,  when  he  tells  me  what  thinking  is,  or  wherein 
it  consists  :  or  explains  to  me  what  extension  or  motion  is,  which 
perhaps  seems  much  easier.  The  simple  ideas  we  have  are 
such  as  experience  teaches  them  us,  but  if,  beyond  that,  we  en- 
deavour by  words  to  make  them  clearer  in  the  mind,  we  shall 
succeed  no  better  than  if  we  went  about  to  clear  up  the  dark- 
ness of  a  blind  man's  mind  by  talking  ;  and  to  discourse  into  him 
the  ideas  of  light  and  colours.  The  reason  of  this  I  shall  show 
in  another  place. 


CHAPTER  V. 

OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS  OF  DIVERS  SENSES. 

The  ideas  we  get  by  more  than  one  sense  are  of  space,  or 
extension,  figure,  rest,  and  motion  ;  for  these  make  perceivable 
impressions,  both  on  the  eyes  and  touch  :  and  we  can  receive 
and  convey  into  our  minds  the  ideas  of  the  extension,  figure, 
motion,  and  rest  of  bodies,  both  by  seeing  and  feeling.  But 
having  occasion  to  speak  more  at  large  of  these  in  another  place, 
I  here  only  enumerate  them. 


CHAPTER  VI, 

OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS  OF  REFLECTION, 

§   1.    SIMPLE  IDEAS  ARE  THE  OPERATIONS  OF  THE  MIND  ABOUT  ITS 
OTHER   IDEAS. 

The  mind,  receiving  the  ideas,  mentioned  in  the  foregoing 
chapters,  from  without,  when  it  turns  its  view  inward  upon  itself, 
and  observes  its  own  actions  about  those  ideas  it  has,  takes  from 
thence  other  ideas,  which  are  as  capable  to  be  the  objects  of  its 
contemplation  as  any  of  those  it  received  from  foreign  things. 

O  2.  THE  IDEA  OF  PERCEPTION,  AND  IDEA  OF  WILLING,.  WE  HAVE  FROM 

REFLECTION. 

The  two  great  and  principal  actions  of  the  mind,  which  are 
most  frequently  considered,  and  which  are  so  frequent,  that  every 
one  that  pleases  may  take  notice  of  them  in  himself  are.thesr. 
twos    perception  or  thinking;    and  volition  or  willing.      The 


GV     \If.j  IDEAS  OF  SENSATION  AND  REFLBCTIQN.  '129 

power  of  thinking  is  called  the  understanding,  and  the  power  of 
volition  is  called  the  will ;  and  these  two  powers  or  abilities  in 
the  mind  are  denominated  faculties.  Of  some  of  the  modes  of 
these  simple  ideas  of  reflection,  such  as  are  remembrance,  dis- 
cerning, reasoning,  judging,  knowledge,  faith,  &c,  I  shall  have 
occasion  to  speak  hereafter. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS  OF  BOTH  SENSATION  AND  REFLECTION 
§  1.    PLEASURE  AND  PAIN. 

There  be  other  simple  ideas  which  convey  themselves  into 
the  mind  by  all  the  ways  of  sensation  and  reflection,  viz.  plea- 
sure or  delight,  and  its  opposite,  pain  or  uneasiness,  power,  ex- 
istence, unity. 

§2. 

Delight  or  uneasiness,  one  or  other  of  them,  join  themselves  to 
almost  all  our  ideas,  both  of  sensation  and  reflection  :  and  there 
is  scarce  any  affection  of  our  senses  from  without,  any  retired 
thought  of  our  mind  within,  which  is  not  able  to  produce  in  us 
pleasure  or  pain.  By  pleasure  and  pain  I  would  be  understood 
to  signify  whatsoever  delights  or  molests  us  most ;  whether  it 
arises  from  the  thoughts  of  our  minds,  or  any  thing  operating  on 
our  bodies.  For  whether  we  call  it  satisfaction,  delight,  pleasure, 
happiness,  &c.  on  the  one  side  ;  or  uneasiness,  trouble,  pain, 
torment,  anguish,  misery,  &c.  on  the  other ;  they  are  still  but 
different  degrees  of  the  same  thing,  and  belong  to  the  ideas  of 
pleasure  and  pain,  delight  or  uneasiness  ;  which  are  the  names  I 
shall  most  commonly  use  for  those  two  sorts  of  ideas. 

§3. 

The  infinitely  wise  Author  of  our  being  having  given  us  the 
power  over  several  parts  of  our  bodies,  to  move  or  keep  them  at 
rest  as  we  think  fit ;  and  also,  by  the  motion  of  them,  to  move 
ourselves  and  other  contiguous  bodies  in  which  consist  all  the 
actions  of  our  body ;  having  also  given  a  power  to  our  minds  in 
several  instances,  to  choose,  among  its  ideas,  which  it  will  think 
on,  and  to  pursue  the  inquiry  of  this  or  that  subject  with  consi- 
deration and  attention,  to  excite  us  to  these  actions  of  thinking 
and  motion  that  we  are  capable  of;  has  been  pleased  to  join  to 
several  thoughts,  and  several  sensations,  a  perception  of  delight. 
If  this  were  wholly  separated  from  all  our  outward  sensations 
and  inward  thoughts,  we  should  have  no  reason  to  prefer  one 
thought  or  action  to  another ;  negligence  to  attention  j  or  motion 

Vol,  I  17 


130        IDEAS  OB' SENSATION  AND  REFLECTION.    [BOOK  If, 

to  rest.  And  so  we  should  neither  stir  our  bodies  nor  employ 
our  minds,  but  let  our  thoughts  (if  I  may  so  call  it)  run  adrift, 
without  any  direction  or  design  ;  and  suffer  the  ideas  of  our  minds, 
like  unregarded  shadows,  to  make  their  appearance  there,  as  it 
happened,  without  attending  to  them.  In  which  state  man, 
however  furnished  with  the  faculties  of  understanding  and  will, 
would  be  a  very  idle  inactive  creature,  and  pass  his  time  only 
in  a  lazy,  lethargic  dream.  It  has  therefore  pleased  our  wise 
Creator  to  annex  to  several  objects,  and  the  ideas  which  we  re- 
ceive from  them,  as  also  to  several  of  our  thoughts,  a  concomi- 
tant pleasure,  and  that  in  several  objects,  to  several  degrees  : 
that  those  faculties  which  he  had  endowed  us  with  might  not  re- 
main wholly  idle  and  unemployed  by  us. 

§4. 

Pain  has  the  same  efficacy  and-  use  to  set  us  on  work  that 
pleasure  has,  we  being  as  ready  to  employ  our  faculties  to  avoid 
that,  as  to  pursue  this ;  only  this  is  worth  our  consideration,  that 
pain  is  often  produced  by  the  same  objects  and  ideas  that  produce 
pleasure  in  us.  This  their  near  conjunction,  which  makes  us 
often  feel  pain  in  the  sensations  where  we  expected  pleasure, 
gives  us  new  occasion  of  admiring  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of 
our  Maker ;  who,  designing  the  preservation  of  our  being,  has 
annexed  pain  to  the  application  of  many  things  to  our  bodies,  to 
warn  us  of  the  harm  that  they  will  do,  and  as  advices  to  withdraw 
from  them.  But  he  not  designing  our  preservation  barely,  but 
the  preservation  of  every  part  and  organ  in  its  perfection,  hath, 
in  many  cases,  annexed  pain  to  those  very  ideas  which  delight  us. 
Thus  heat,  that  is  very  agreeable  to  us  in  one  degree,  by  a  little 
greater  increase  of  it,  proves  no  ordinary  torment  •,  and  the  most 
pleasant  of  all  sensible  objects,  light  itself,  if  there  be  too  much 
of  it,  if  increased  beyond  a  due  proportion  to  our  eyes,  causes  a 
very  painful  sensation.  Which  is  wisely  and  favourably  so  order- 
ed by  nature,  that  when  any  object  does  by  the  vehemency  of  its 
operation  disorder  the  instruments  of  sensation,  whose  structures 
cannot  but  be  very  nice  and  delicate,  we  might  by  the  pain  be 
warned  to  withdraw  before  the  organ  be  quite  put  out  of  order, 
and  so  be  unfitted  for  its  proper  function  for  the  future.  The 
consideration  of  those  objects  lhat  produce  it  may  well  persuade 
us,  that  this  is  the  end  or  use  of  pain.  For  though  great  light  be 
insufferable  to  our  eyes,  yet  the  highest  degree  of  darkness  does 
not  at  all  disease  them;  because  that  causing  no  disorderly  motion 
in  it,  leaves  that  curious  organ  unharmed  in  its  natural  state. 
But  yet  excess  of  cold  as  well  as  heat  pains  us,  because  it  is 
equally  destructive  to  that  temper  which  is  necessary  to  the  pre- 
servation of  life,  and  the  exercise  of  the  several  functions  of  the 
body,  and  which  consists  in  a  moderate  degree  of  warmth  ;  or, 
if  you  please,  a  motion  of  the  insensible  parts  of  our  bodies 
confined  within  certain  bounds. 


CH.  711.  J         IDEAS  OF  SENSATION  AND  REFLECTION.  Vol 

§  5. 

Bcvond  all  this  we  may  find  another  reason,  why  God  hath 
scattered  up  and  down  several  degrees  of  pleasure  and  pain,  in 
all  the  things  that  environ  and  affect  us,  and  Mended  them  together 
in  almost  all  that  our  thoughts  and  senses  have  to  do  with  ;  that 
we  finding  imperfection,  dissatisfaction,  and  want  of  complete 
happiness,  fn  all  the  enjoyments  which  the  creatures  can  afford 
us,  might  be  led  to  seek  it  in  the  enjoyment  of  him,  with  whom 
there  is  fulness  of  joy,  and  at  whose  right  hand  are  pleasures  for 
evermore. 

§  G.    PLEASURE  AND  PAIN. 

Though  what  I  have  here  said  may  not  perhaps  make  the  ideas 
of  pleasure  and  pain  clearer  to  us  than  our  own  experience  does, 
which  is  the  only  way  that  we  are  capable  of  having  them  ;  yet 
the  consideration  of  the  reason  why  they  are  annexed  to  so  many 
other  ideas,  serving  to  give  us  due  sentiments  of  the  wisdom  and 
goodness  of  the  Sovereign  Disposer  of  all  things,  may  not  be 
unsuitable  to  the  main  end  of  these  inquiries ;  the  knowledge 
and  veneration  of  him  being  the  chief  end  of  all  our  thoughts, 
and  the  proper  business  of  all  understandings. 

§  7.    EXISTENCE  AND  UNITY. 

Existence  and  unity  are  two  other  ideas  that  are  suggested  to 
the  understanding  by  every  object  without,  and  every  idea  with- 
in. When  ideas  arc  in  our  minds,  we  consider  them  as  being 
actually  there,  as  well  as  we  consider  things  to  be  actually 
without  us ;  which  is,  that  they  exist,  or  have  existence  ;  and 
whatever  we  can  consider  as  one  thing,  whether  a  real  being  or 
idea,  suggests  to  the  understanding  the  idea  of  unity. 

§  8.    POWER. 

Power  also  is  another  of  those  simple  ideas  which  we  receive 
from  sensation  and  reflection.  For  observing  in  ourselves,  that 
we  can  at  pleasure  move  several  parts  of  our  bodies  which  were 
at  rest,  the  effects  also  that  natural  bodies  are  able  to  produce  in 
one  anotheroccurring  every  moment  to  our  senses,  we  both  these 
ways  get  the  idea  of  power. 

§  9.    SUCCESSION. 

Besides  these  there  is  another  idea,  which,  though  suggested  by 
our  senses,  yet  is  more  constantly  offered  to  us  by  what  passes  in 
our  minds  ;  and  that  is  the  idea  of  succession.  For  if  we  look 
immediately  into  ourselves,  and  reflect  on  what  is  observable 
there,  we  shall  find  our  ideas  always,  whilst  we  are  awake,  or 
have  any  thought,  passing  in  train,  one  going  and  another  uoming. 
without  intermission. 


\$-&  SIMPLE  IDEAS.  [BOOK.  If 

§   10.    SIMPLE  IDEAS  THE  MATERIALS  OF  ALL  OUR  KNOWLEDGE. 

These,  if  they  are  not  all,  are  at  least,  (as  I  think)  the  most 
considerable  of  those  simple  ideas  which  the  mind  has,  and  out  of 
which  is  made  all  its  other  knowledge  ;  all  which  it  receives  only 
by  the  two  forementioned  ways  of  sensation  andreflection. 

Nor  let  any  one  think  these  too  narrow  bounds  for  the  capa- 
cious mind  of  man  to  expatiate  in,  which  takes  its  flight  farther 
than  the  stars,  and  cannot  be  confined  by  the  limits  of  the  world ; 
that  extends  its  thoughts  often  even  beyond  the  utmost  expansion 
of  matter,  and  makes  incursionsinto  that  incomprehensible  inane, 
I  grant  all  this,  but  desire  any  one  to  assign  any  simple  idea  which 
is  not  received  from  one  of  those  inlets  before  mentioned,  or 
any  complex  idea  not  made  out  of  those  simple  ones.  Nor  will 
it  be  so  strange  to  think  these  few  simple  ideas  sufficient  to 
employ  the  quickest  thought  or  largest  capacity,  and  to  furnish 
the  materials  of  all  that  various  knowledge,  and  more  various 
fancies  and  opinions  of  all  mankind,  if  we  consider  how  many 
Avords  may  be  made  out  of  the  various  composition  of  twenty- 
four  letters,  or  if,  going  one  step  farther,  we  will  but  reflect  on 
the  variety  of  combinations  may  be  made  with  barely  one  of  the 
above-mentioned  ideas,  viz.  number,  whose  stock  is  inexhaustible 
and  truly  infinite  ;  and  what  a  large  and  immense  field  doth  ex- 
tension alone  afford  the  mathematicians ! 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


SOME  FARTHER  CONSIDERATIONS  CONCERNING  OUR  SIMPLE 

IDEAS. 

§  1.  fositive'ideas  from  privative  causes. 

Concerning  the  simple  ideas  of  sensation  it  is  to  be  considered, 
that  whatsoever  is  so  constituted  in  nature  as  to  be  able,  by 
affecting  our  senses,  to  cause  any  perception  in  the  mind,  doth 
thereby  produce  in  the  understanding  a  simple  idea,  which,  what- 
ever be  the  external  cause  of  it,  when  it  comes  to  be  taken 
notice  of  by  our  discerning  faculty,  it  is  by  the  mind  looked  on 
and  considered  there  to  be  a  real  positive  idea  in  the  understand- 
ing, as  much  as  any  other  whatsoever,  though  perhaps  the  causae 
of  it  be  but  privation  of  the  subject. 

§  2. 
Thus  the  idea  of  heat  and  cold,  light  and  darkness,  white  and 
black,  motion  and  rest,  are  equally  clear  and  positive  ideas  in  the 
mind,  though  perhaps  some  of  the  causes  which  produce  them 
are  barely  privations  in  subjects,  from  whence  our  senses  derive 
those  ideas.     These  the  understanding,  in  its  view  of  them,  con- 


C1I.   V'lH.J  SIMPLE  IDEAS.  133 

siders  all  as  distinct  positive  ideas,  without  taking  notice  of  the 
causes  that  produce  them  ;  which  is  an  inquiry  not  belonging  to 
the  idea,  as  it  is  in  the  understanding,  but  to  the  nature  of  the 
things  existing  without  us.  These  are  two  very  different  things, 
and  carefully  to  be  distinguished  ;  it  being  one  thing  to  perceive 
and  know  the  idea  of  white  or  black,  and  quite  another  to  ex- 
amine what  kind  of  particles  they  must  be,  and  how  ranged  in 
the  superficies,  to  make  any  object  appear  white  or  black. 

§3. 

A  painter  or  dier,  who  never  inquired  into  their  causes,  hath 
the  ideas  of  white  and  black,  and  other  colours,  as  clearly,  per- 
fectly, and  distinctly  in  his  understanding,  and  perhaps  more  dis- 
tinctly, than  the  philosopher,  who  hath  busied  himself  in  consi- 
dering their  natures,  and  thinks  he  knows  how  far  either  of  them 
is  in  its  cause  positive  or  privative  ;  and  the  idea  of  black  is  no 
less  positive  in  his  mind  than  that  of  white,  however  the  cause  of 
that  colour  in  the  external  object  may  be  only  a  privation. 

§4. 

If  it  were  the  design  of  my  present  undertaking  to  inquire  into 
the  natural  causes  and  manner  of  perception,  I  should  offer  this 
as  a  reason  why  a  privative  cause  might,  in  some  cases  at  least, 
produce  a  positive  idea,  viz.  that  all  sensation  being  produced  in 
us,  only  by  different  degrees,  and  modes  of  motion  in  our  animal 
spirits,  variously  agitated  by  external  objects,  the  abatement  of 
any  former  motion  must  as  necessarily  produce  a  new  sensation, 
as  the  variation  or  increase  of  it;  and  so  introduce  a  new  idea, 
which  depends  only  on  a  different  motion  of  the  animal  spirits  in 
that  organ. 

§5. 
But  whether  this  be  so  or  no,  I  will  not  here  determine,  but 
appeal  to  every  one^  own  experience,  whether  the  shadow  of  a 
man,  though  it  consists  of  nothing  but  the  absence  of  light  (and 
the  more  the  absence  of  light  is,  the  more  discernible  is  the 
shadow)  does  not,  when  a  man  looks  on  it,  cause  as  clear  and. 
positive  idea  in  his  mind,  as  a  man  himself,  though  covered 
over  with  a  clear  sunshine?  and  the  picture  of  a  shadow  is  a  posi- 
tive thing.  Indeed,  we  have  negative  names,  which  stand  not 
directly  for  positive  ideas,  but  for  their  absence,  such  as  insipid, 
silence,  nihil,  &c.  which  words  denote  positive  ideas  ;  v.  g.  taste, 
sound,  being,  with  a  signification  of  their  absence. 

§  6.    POSITIVE   IDEAS  FROM  PRIVATIVE  CAUSES. 

And  thus  one  may  truly  be  said  to  see  darkness.  For  suppo- 
sing a  hole  perfectly  dark,  from  whence  no  light  is  reflected,  it  is 
certain  one  may  see  tbe  figure  of  it,  or  it  may  be  painted;  or 
whether  the  ink  I  write  with  makes  any  other  idea,  is  a  question. 


134  SIMPLE  IDEAS.  [BOOK  II. 

The  privative  causes  I  have  here  assigned  of  positive  ideas  are 
according  to  the  common  opinion  ;  but  in  truth  it  will  be  hard 
to  determine  whether  there  be  really  any  ideas  from  a  privative 
cause,  till  it  be  determined  whether  rest  be  any  more  a  pri- 
vation than  motion. 

§  7.    IDEAS  IN  THE  MIND,  QUALITIES  IN  BODIES. 

To  discover  the  nature  of  our  ideas  the  better,  and  to  dis- 
course of  them  intelligibly,  it  will  be  convenient  to  distinguish 
them  as  they  are  ideas  or  perceptions  in  our  minds,  and  as  they 
are  modifications  of  matter  in  the  bodies  that  cause  such  percep- 
tions in  us  ;  that  so  we  may  think  (as  perhaps  usually  is  done'j 
that  they  are  exactly  the  images  and  resemblances  of  something 
inherent  in  the  subject ;  most  of  those  of  sensation  being  in  the 
mind  no  more  the  likeness  of  something  existing  without  us,  than 
the  names  that  stand  for  them  are  the  likeness  of  our  ideas,  which 
yet  upon  hearing  they  are  apt  to  excite  in  us. 

§8. 

Whatsoever  the  mind  perceives  in  itself,  or  is  the  immediate 
object  of  perception,  thought,  or  understanding,  that  1  call  idea ; 
and  the  power  to  produce  any  idea  in  our  mind  I  call  quality  of 
the  subject  wherein  (hat  power  is.  Thus  a  snowball  having  the 
power  to  produce  in  us  the  ideas  of  white,  cold,  and  round,  the 
powers  to  produce  those  ideas  in  us,  as  they  a^e  in  the  snow- 
ball, I  call  qualities ;  and  as  they  are  sensations  or  perceptions 
in  our  understandings,  I  call  them  ideas  ;  which  ideas,  if  I  speak 
of  sometimes  as  in  the  things  themselves,  I  would  be  understood 
to  mean  those  qualities  in  the  objects  which  produce  them  in  us. 

§  9  PRIMARY  QUALITIES. 

Qualities  thus  considered  in  bodies  are,  first,  such  as  are  utter- 
ly inseparable  from  the  body,  in  what  estate  soever  it  be  ; 
such  as  in  all  the  alterations  and  changes  it  suffers,  all  the  force 
can  be  used  upon  it,  it  constantly  keeps ;  and  such  as  sense  con- 
stantly finds  in  every  particle  of  matter  which  has  bulk  enough 
to  be  perceived,  and  the  man  finds  inseparable  from  every  parti- 
cle of  matter,  though  less  than  to  make  itself  singly  be  perceived 
by  our  senses  :  v.  g.  take  a  grain  of  wheat,  divide  it  into  two 
parts,  each  part  has  still  solidity,  extension,  figure,  and  mobility  ; 
divide  it  again,  and  it  retains  still  the  same  qualities,  and  so  di- 
vide it  on  till  the  parts  become  insensible,  they  must  retain  still 
each  of  them  all  those  qualities  :  for  division  (which  is  all  that  a 
mill,  or  pestle,  or  any  other  body  does  upon  another,  in  reducing 
it  to  insensible  parts)  can  never  take  away  either  solidity,  exten- 
sion, figure,  or  mobility  from  any  body,  but  only  makes  two  or 
more  distinct  separate  masses  of  matter  of  that  which  was  but 
one  before;  all  which  distinct  masses,  reckoned  as  so  many  dis- 
tinct bodies,  after  division  make  a  certain  number.     These  I 


CH.  VIII.]  WHAT  IDEAS  RESEMBLANCES.  135 

call  original  or  primary  qualities  of  body,  which  I  think  we  may 
observe  to  produce  simple  ideas  in  us,  viz.  solidity,  extension, 
figure,  motion  or  rest,  and  number. 

§    10.    SECONDARY  QUALITIES. 

Secondly,  such  qualities  which  in  truth  are  nothing  in  the  ob- 
jects themselves,  but  powers  to  produce  various  sensations  in  us 
by  their  primary  qualities,  i.  e.  by  the  bulk,  figure,  texture,  and 
motion  of  their  insensible  parts,  as  colour,  sounds,  tastes,  &c. 
these  I  call  secondary  qualities.  To  these  might  be  added  a  third 
sort,  which  are  allowed  to  be  barely  powers,  though  they  are  as 
much  real  qualities  in  the  subject  as  those  which  I,  to  comply 
with  the  common  way  of  speaking,  call  qualities,  but  for  distinc- 
tion, secondary  qualities.  For  the  power  in  fire  to  produce  a 
new  colour,  or  consistency,  in  wax  or  clay,  by  its  primary  quali- 
ties, is  as  much  a  quality  in  fire  as  the  power  it  has  to  produce  in 
me  a  new  idea  or  sensation  of  warmth  or  burning,  which  1  felt 
not  before,  by  the  same  primary  qualities,  viz.  the  bulk,  texture, 
and  motion  of  its  insensible  parts. 

§   11.    HOW  PRIMARY  QUALITIES  PRODUCE  THEIR  IDEAS. 

The  next  thing  to  be  considered  is,  how  bodies  produce  ideas 
in  us ;  and  that  is  manifestly  by  impulse,  the  only  way  which  we 
can  conceive  bodies  to  operate  in. 

§  12. 
If  then  external  objects  be  not  united  to  our  minds,  when  they 
produce  ideas  therein,  and  yet  we  perceive  these  original  quali- 
ties in  such  ot  them  as  singly  fall  under  our  senses,  it  is  evident 
that  some  motion  must  be  thence  continued  by  our  nerves  or  ani- 
mal spirits,  by  some  parts  of  our  bodies,  to  the  brain,  or  the  seat 
of  sensation,  there  to  produce  in  our  minds  the  particular  ideas 
we  have  of  them.  And  since  the  extension,  figure,  number,  and 
motion  of  bodies,  of  an  observable  bigm  ss.  may  be  perceived  at 
a  distance  by  the  sight,  it  is  evident  some  singly  imperceptible 
bodies  must  come  from  them  to  the  eyes,  and  thereby  convey  to 
the  brain  some  motion,  which  produces  these  ideas  which  we 
have  of  them  in  us. 

§    13.    HOW  SECONDARY. 

After  the  same  manner  that  the  ideas  of  these  original  qualities 
are  produced  in  us,  we  may  conceive  that  the  ideas  of  secondary 
qualities  are  also  produced,  viz.  by  the  operations  of  insensible 
particles  on  our  senses.  For  it  being  manifest  that  there  are 
bodies,  and  good  store  of  bodies,  each  whereof  are  so  small  that 
we  cannot,  by  any  of  our  senses,  discover  either  their  bulk,  figure, 
or  motion,  as  is  evident  in  the  particles  of  the  air  and  water, 
and  others  extremely  smaller  than  those,  perhaps  as  much  small- 
er than  the  particles  of  air  and  water,  as  the  particles  of  air 
and  water  are  smaller  than  peas  or  hailstones ;   Jet   us  sup- 


136  WHAT  IDEAS  RESEMBLANCES.  [BOOK  II. 

pose  at  present,  that  the  different  motions  and  figures,  bulk  and 
number  of  such  particles,  affecting  the  several  organs  of  our 
senses,  produce  in  us  those  different  sensations,  which  we  have 
from  the  colours  and  smells  of  bodies  ;  v.  g.  that  a  violet,  by  the 
impulse  of  such  insensible  particles  of  matter  of  peculiar  figures 
and  bulks,  and  in  different  degrees  and  modifications  of  their  mo- 
tions, causes  the  ideas  of  the  blue  colour  and  sweet  scent  of  that 
flower  to  be  produced  in  our  minds,  it  being  no  more  impossible 
to  conceive  that  God  should  annex  such  ideas  to  such  motions, 
with  which  they  have  no  similitude,  than  that  he  should  annex 
the  idea  of  pain  to  the  motion  of  a  piece  of  steel  dividing  our 
flesh,  Avith  which  that  idea  hath  no  resemblance. 

§  14. 
What  I  have  said  concerning  colours  and  smells  may  be  under- 
stood also  of  tastes  and  sounds,  and  other  the  like  sensible  quali- 
ties ;  which,  whatever  reality  we  by  mistake  attribute  to  them, 
are  in  truth  nothing  in  the  objects  themselves,  but  powers  to 
produce  various  sensations  in  us,  and  depend  on  those  primary 
qualities,  viz.  bulk,  figure,  texture,  and  motion  of  parts,  as  I 
have  said. 

S  15.    IDEAS    OF    PRIMARY     QUALITIES  ARE    RESEMBLANCES  ;    OF  SECON- 
DARY, NOT. 

From  whence  I  think  it  easy  to  draw  this  observation,  that  the 
ideas  of  primary  qualities  of  bodies  are  resemblances  of  them, 
and  their  patterns  do  really  exist  in  the  bodies  themselves  ;  but 
the  ideas  produced  in  us  by  these  secondary  qualities  have  no  re- 
semblance of  them  at  all.  There  is  nothing  like  our  ideas  exist- 
ing in  the  bodies  themselves.  They  are  in  the  bodies,  we  deno- 
minate from  them,  only  a  power  to  produce  those  sensations  in 
us  ;  and  what  is  sweet,  blue,  or  warm  in  idea,  is  but  the  certain 
bulk,  figure,  and  motion  of  the  insensible  parts  in  the  bodies 
themselves,  which  we  call  so. 

§1G. 

Flame  is  denominated  hot  and  light ;  snow  white  and  cold  : 
and  manna  white  and  sweet,  from  the  ideas  they  produce  in  us  : 
which  qualities  are  commonly  thought  to  be  the  same  in  those  bo- 
dies that  those  ideas  are  in  us,  the  one  the  perfect  resemblance 
of  the  other,  as  they  are  in  a  mirror  ;  and  it  would  by  most  men 
be  judged  very  extravagant  if  one  should  say  otherwise.  And 
yet  he  that  will  consider  that  the  same  fire,  that  at  one  distance 
produces  in  us  the  sensation  of  warmth,  does  at  a  nearer  ap- 
proach produce  in  us  the  far  different  sensation  of  pain,  ought 
to  bethink  himself  what  reason  he  has  to  say,  that  his  idea  oi 
warmth,  which  was  produced  in  him  by  the  fire,  is  actually  in 
the  fire  :  and  his  idea  of  pain,  which  the  same  fire  produced  in 
him  the  same  way,  is  not  in  the  fire.  Why  are  whiteness  and 
coldness  in  snow,  and  pain  not,  when  it  produces  the  one  and 


C!T.  Vlll .  PRIMAR5   QUAD  1 1 1. %  I  .j? 

the  other  idea  in  us,  and  can  do  neither  but  by  the  bulk,  figure, 
number,  and  motion  of  its  solid  parts. 

§17. 

The  particular  bulk,  number,  figure,  and  motion  of  the  parts 
of  fire,  or  snow,  are  really  in  them,  whether  any  one's  senses 
perceive  them  or  no  ;  and  therefore  they  may  be  called  real 
qualities,  because  they  really  exist  in  those  bodies  ;  but  light, 
heat,  whiteness,  or  coldness,  are  no  more  really  in  them  than 
sickness  or  pain  is  in  manna.  Take  away  the  sensation  of  them  ; 
let  not  the  eyes  see  light  or  colours,  nor  the  cars  hear  sounds  : 
let  the  palate  not  taste,  nor  the  nose  smell ;  and  all  colours, 
tastes,  odours,  and  sounds,  as  they  are  such  particular  ideas,  va- 
nish and  cease,  and  are  reduced  to  their  causes,  i.  e.  bulk,  figure. 
and  motion  of  parts. 

§  IS- 

A  piece  of  manna  of  a  sensible  bulk  is  able  to  produce  in  us 
the  idea  of  a  round  or  square  figure,  and,  by  being  removed  from 
one  place  to  another,  the  idea  of  motion.     This  idea  of  motion 
represents  it  as  it  really  is  in  the  manna  moving  :  a  circle  or 
square  are  the  same,  whether  in  idea  or  existence,  in  the  mind 
or  in  the  manna ;  and  this  both  motion  and  figure  are  really 
in  the  manna,  whether  we   take  notice  of  them  or  no  :  this 
every  body  is  ready  to  agree  to.     Besides,  manna  by  the  bulk, 
figure,  texture,  and  motion  of  its  parts,  has  a  power  to  produce 
the  sensations  of  sickness,  and  sometimes  of  acutepains  orgripings 
in  us.      That  these  ideas  of  sickness  and  pain  are  not  in  the 
manna,  but  effects  of  its  operations  on  us,  and  are  nowhere  when 
we  feel  them  not :  this  also  every  one  readily  agrees  to.     And 
yet  men  are  hardly  to  be  brought  to  think,  that  sweetness  and 
whiteness  are  not  really  in  manna  ;  which  are  but  the  effects  of 
the  operations  of  manna,  by  the  motion,  size,  and  figure  of  its 
particles  on  the  eyes  and  palate  ;  as  the  pain  and  sickness  caused 
by  manna  are  confessedly  nothing  but  the  effects  of  its  operations 
on  the  stomach  and  guts,  by  the  size,  motion,  and  figure  of  its  in- 
sensible parts  (for  by  nothing  else  can  a  body  operate,  as  has 
been  proved  ;)  as  if  it  could  not  operate  on  the  eyes  and  palate, 
and  thereby  produce  in  the  mind  particular  distinct  ideas,which  in 
itself  it  has  not,  as  well  as  we  allow  it  can  operate  on  the  guts  and 
stomach,  and  thereby  produce  distinct  ideas,  which  in  itself  it  has 
not.     These  ideas  being  all  effects  of  the  operations  of  manna 
on  several  parts  of  our  bodies,  by  the  size,  figure,   number,  and 
motion  of  its  parts  ;  why  those  produced  by  the  eyes  and  palate, 
should  rather  be  thought  to  be  really  in  the  manna  than  those 
produced  by  the  stomach  and  guts  ;  or  why  the  pain  and  sickness, 
ideas  that  are  the  effects  of  manna,  should  be  thought  to  be  no- 
where when  they  arc  not  felt ;  and  yet  the  sweetness  and  white- 
ness, effects  of  the  same  manna  on  other  parts  of  the  body,  by 

Vol,  I.  10 


iob  SECONDARY  QUALITIES.  [BOOK  II. 

ways  equally  as  unknown,  should  be  thought  to  exist  in  the 
manna,  when  they  are  not  seen  or  tasted,  would  need  some  rea- 
son to  explain. 

§'  19.    IDEAS  OF  PRIMARY    QUALITIES    ARE  RESEMBLANCES  ;    OF  SECON- 
DARY,   NOT. 

Let  us  consider  the  red  and  white  colours  in  porphyry  :  hin- 
der light  from  striking  on  it,  and  its  colours  vanish,  it  no  longer 
produces  any  such  ideas  in  us  ;  upon  the  return  of  light  it  pro- 
duces these  appearances  on  us  again.  Can  any  one  think  any 
real  alterations  are  made  in  the  porphyry  by  the  presence  or  ab- 
sence of  light :  and  that  those  ideas  of  whiteness  and  redness  are 
really  in  porphyry  in  the  light,  when  it  is  plain  it  has  no  colour 
in  the  dark  ?  It  has,  indeed,  such  a  configuration  of  particles, 
both  night  and  day,  as  are  apt,  by  the  rays  of  light  rebounding 
from  some  parts  of  that  hard  stone,  to  produce  in  us  the  idea  of 
redness,  and  from  others  the  idea  of  whiteness  ;  but  whiteness  or 
redness  are  not  in  it  at  any  time,  but  such  a  texture,  that  hath  the 
power  to  produce  such  a  sensation  in  us. 

§  20. 
Pound  an  almond,  and  the  clear  white  colour  will  be  altered 
into  a  dirty  one,  and  the  sweet  taste  into  an  oily  one.     What  real 
alteration  can  the  beating  of  the  pestle  make  in  any  body,  but  an 
alteration  of  the  texture  of  it  ? 

§21. 

Ideas  being  thus  distinguished  and  understood,  we  may  be  able 
to  give  an  account  how  the  same  water,  at  the  same  time,  may 
produce  the  idea  of  cold  by  one  hand,  and  of  heat  by  the  other  ; 
whereas  it  is  impossible  that  the  same  water,  if  those  ideas  were 
really  in  it,  should  at  the  same  time  be  both  hot  and  cold  :  for  if 
we  imagine  warmth,  as  it  is  in  our  hands,  to  be  nothing  but  a 
certain  sort  and  degree  of  motion  in  the  minute  particles  of  our 
nerves  or  animal  spirits,  we  may  understand  how  it  is  possible 
that  the  same  water  may,  at  the  same  time,  produce  the  sensations 
of  heat  in  one  hand,  and  cold  in  the  other ;  which  yet  figure 
never  does,  that  never  producing  the  idea  of  a  square  by  one 
hand,  which  has  produced  the  idea  of  a  globe  by  another.  But 
if  the  sensation  of  heat  and  cold  be  nothing  but  the  increase  or 
diminution  of  the  motion  of  the  minute  parts  of  our  bodies, 
caused  by  the  corpuscles  of  any  other  body,  it  is  easy  to  be  under- 
stood, that  if  that  motion  be  greater  in  one  hand  than  in  the  other; 
if  a  body  be  applied  to  the  two  hands,  which  has  in  its  minute 
particles  a  greater  motion,  than  in  those  of  one  of  the  hands,  and 
a  less  than  in  those  of  the  other;  it  will  increase  the  motion  of 
the  one  hand,  and  lessen  it  in  the  other,  and  so  cause  the  differ- 
ent sensations  of  heat  and  cold  that  depend  thereon. 


CH.  Till]  SECONDARY  QUALITIES  18$ 

I  have  in  what  just  goes  before  been  engaged  in  physical  in- 
quiries a  little  farther  than  perhaps  I  intended.  But  it  being- 
necessary  to  make  the  nature  of  sensation  a  little  understood, 
and  to  make  the  difference  between  the  qualities  in  bodies,  and 
the  ideas  produced  by  them  in  the  mind,  to  be  distinctly  con- 
ceived, without  which  it  were  impossible  to  discourse  intelligibly 
of  them,  I  hope  I  shall  be  pardoned  this  little  excursion  into  na- 
tural philosophy,  it  being  necessary  in  our  present  inquiry  to  dis- 
tinguish the  primary  and  real  qualities  of  bodies,  which  arc  always 
in  them,  (viz.  solidity,  extension,  figure,  number,  and  motion,  or 
rest ;  and  are  sometimes  perceived  by  us,  viz.  when  the  bodies 
they  are  in  are  big  enough  singly  to  be  discerned)  from  those  se- 
condary and  imputed  qualities,  which  are  but  the  powers  of  seve- 
ral combinations  of  those  primary  ones,  when  they  operate, 
without  being  distinctly  discerned  ;  whereby  we  may  also  come 
io  know  what  ideas  are,  and  what  are  not,  resemblances  of  some- 
thing really  existing  in  the  bodies  we  denominate  from  them. 

§  23.    THREE  SORTS  OF  QUALITIES  IN  BODIES. 

The  qualities  then  that  are  in  bodies,  rightly  considered,  are 
of  three  sorts. 

First,  The  bulk,  figure,  number,  situation,  and  motion  or  rest 
of  their  solid  parts  ;  those  are  in  them,  whether  we  perceive  them 
or  no;  and  when  they  are  of  that  size  that  we  can  discover  them, 
we  have  by  these  an  idea  of  the  thing,  as  it  is  in  itself,  as  is  plain 
in  artificial  things.     These  I  call  primary  qualities. 

Secondly,  The  power  that  is  in  any  body,  by  reason  of  its 
insensible  primary  qualities,  to  operate  after  a  peculiar  manner 
on  any  of  our  senses,  and  thereby  produce  in  us  the  different 
ideas  of  several  colours,  sounds,  smells,  tastes,  &c.  These  are 
usually  called  sensible  qualities. 

Thirdly,  The  power  that  is  in  any  body,  by  reason  of  the 
particular  constitution  of  its  primary  qualities,  to  make  such  a 
change  in  the  bulk,  figure,  texture,  and  motion  of  another  body, 
as  to  make  it  operate  on  our  senses,  differently  from  what  it  did 
before.  Thus  the  sun  has  a  power  to  make  wax  white,  and  fire 
to  make  lead  fluid.     These  are  usually  called  powers. 

The  first  of  these,  as  has  been  said,  I  think  may  be  properly 
called  real,  original,  or  primary  qualities,  because  they  are  in  the 
things  themselves,  whether  they  are  perceived  or  no  ;  and  upon 
their  different  modifications  it  is,  that  the  secondary  qualities 
depend. 

The  other  two  arc  only  powers  to  act  differently  upon  other 
things,  which  powers  result  from  the  different  modifications  of 
those  primary  qualities. 


I4U  .SECONDARY  QUALITIES.  [BOOK  It', 

§  24.  THE  FIRST  ARE  RESEMBLANCES.  THE  SECOND  THOUGHT  RESEM- 
BLANCES, BUT  ARE  NOT.  THE  THIRD  NEITHER  ARE,  NOR  ARE 
THOUGHT  SO. 

But  though  the  two  latter  sorts  of  qualities  are  powers  barely, 
and  nothing  but  powers,  relating  to  several  other  bodies,  and  re- 
sulting from  the  different  modifications  of  the  original  qualities, 
yet  they  are  generally  otherwise  thought  of:  for  the  second  sort, 
viz.  the  powers  to  produce  several  ideas  in  us  by  our  senses,  are 
looked  upon  as  real  qualities,  in  the  things  thus  affecting  us ;  but 
the  third  sort  are  called  and  esteemed  barely  powers,  v.  g.  the 
idea  of  heat  or  light,  which  we  receive  by  our  eyes  or  touch  from 
the  sun,  are  commonly  thought  real  qualities,  existing  in  the  sun, 
and  something  more  than  mere  powers  in  it.  But  when  Ave  con- 
sider the  sun,  in  reference  to  wax,  which  it  melts  or  blanches,  we 
look  on  the  whiteness  and  softness  produced  in  the  wax,  not  as 
qualities  in  the  sun,  but  effects  produced  by  powers  in  it :  where- 
as, if  rightly  considered,  these  qualities  of  light  and  warmth, 
which  are  perceptions  in  me  when  I  am  warmed  or  enlightened 
by  the  sun,  are  no  otherwise  in  the  sun,  than  the  changes  made 
in  the  wax,  when  it  is  blanched  or  melted,  are  in  the  sun.  They 
are  ail  of  them  equally  powers  in  the  sun,  depending  on  its  pri- 
mary qualities ;  whereby  it  is  able,  in  one  case,  so  to  alter  the 
bulk,  figure,  texture,  or  motion  of  some  of  the  insensible  parts  of 
my  eyes  or  hands,  as  thereby  to  produce  in  me  the  idea  of  light 
or  heat ;  and  in  the  other,  it  is  able  so  to  alter  the  bulk,  figure, 
texture,  or  motion  of  the  insensible  parts  of  the  wax,  as  to  make 
them  fit  to  produce  in  me  the  distinct  ideas  of  white  and  fluid. 

§25. 

The  reason  why  the  one  are  ordinarily  taken  for  real  qualities, 
And  the  other  only  for  bare  powers,  seems  to  be  because  the 
ideas  we  have  of  distinct  colours,  sounds,  &c.  containing  nothing 
at  all  in  them  of  bulk,  figure,  or  motion,  we  are  not  apt  to  think 
them  the  effects  of  these  primary  qualities,  which  appear  not,  to 
our  senses,  to  operate  in  their  production  ;  and  with  which  they 
have  not  any  apparent  congruity,  or  conceivable  connexion. 
Hence  it  is  that  we  are  so  forward  to  imagine,  that  those  ideas  are 
the  resemblances  of  something  really  existing  in  the  objects 
themselves  :  since  sensation  discovers  nothing  of  bulk,  figure,  or 
motion  of  parts  in  their  production  ;  nor  can  reason  show  how 
bodies,  by  their  bulk,  figure,  and  motion,  should  produce  in  the 
mind  the  ideas  of  blue  or  yellow,  &c.  But  in  the  other  case,  in 
the  operations  of  bodies,  changing  the  qualities  one  of  another, 
we  plainly  discover,  that  the  quality  produced  hath  commonly  no 
resemblance  with  any  thing  in  the  thing  producing  it :  wherefore 
we  look  on  it  as  a  bare  effect  of  power.  For  though  receiving 
the  idea  of  heat  or  light  from  the  sun,  we  are  apt  to  think  it  is  a 
perception  and  resemblance  of  such  a  quality  in  the  sun;  yet 
when  we  see  wax,  or  a  fair  face,  receive  change  of  colour  from 


CH~  IX.]  OF    PERCEPTION.  141 

the  sun,  we  cannot  imagine  that  to  be  the  reception  or  resem- 
blance of  any  thing  in  the  sun,  because  we  find  not  those  different 
colours  in  the  sun  itself.  For  our  senses  being  able  to  observe  a 
likeness  or  unlikeness  of  sensible  qualities  in  two  different  exter- 
nal objects,  we  forwardly  enough  conclude  the  production  of  any 
sensible  quality  in  any  subject  to  be  an  effect  of  bare  power,  and 
not  the  communication  of  any  quality,  which  was  really  in  the 
efficient,  when  we  find  no  such  sensible  quality  in  the  thing  that 

f>roduced  it.  But  our  senses  not  being  able  to  discover  any  un- 
ikeness  between  the  idea  produced  in  us,  and  the  quality  of  the 
object  producing  it,  we  are  apt  to  imagine  that  our  ideas  and 
resemblances  of  something  in  the  objects,  and  not  the  effects  of 
certain  powers  placed  in  the  modification  of  their  primary  quali- 
ties, with  which  primary  qualities  the  ideas  produced  in  us  have 
no  resemblance. 

§  26.    SECONDARY  QUALITIES  TWOFOLD  ;    FIRST,  IMMEDIATELY  FER- 
CEIVABLE  ;  SECONDLY,  MEDIATELY  PERCEIVABLE. 

To  conclude,  beside  those  before-mentioned  primary  qualities 
in  bodies,  viz.  bulk,  figure,  extension,  number,  and  motion  of 
their  solid  parts ;  all  the  rest,  whereby  we  take  notice  of  bodies, 
and  distinguish  them  one  from  another,  are  nothing  else  but  seve- 
ral powers  in  them  depending  on  those  primary  qualities;  where- 
by they  are  fitted,  either  by  immediately  operating  on  our  bodies 
to  produce  several  different  ideas  in  us ;  or  else,  by  operating  oa 
other  bodies,  so  to  change  their  primary  qualities,  as  to  render 
them  capable  of  producing  ideas  in  us  different  from  what  before 
they  did.  The  formerof  these,  I  think,  may  be  called  secondary 
qualities,  immediately  perceivable  :  the  latter,  secondary  quali- 
ties, mediately  perceivable. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

OF  PERCEPTION. 


§   1.    PERCEPTION  THE  FIRST  SIMPLE  IDEA  OF  REFLECTION. 

Perception,  as  it  is  the  first  faculty  of  the  mind,  exercised 
about  our  ideas  ;  so  it  is.  the  first  and  simplest  idea  we  have  from 
reflection,  and  is,  by  some  called  thinking  in  general.  Though 
thinking,  in  the  propriety  of  the  English  tongue,  signifies  that  sort 
of  operation  in  the  mind  about  its  ideas,  wherein  the  mind  is 
active  ;  where  it,  with  some  degree  of  voluntary  attention,  con- 
siders any  thing.  For  in  bare  naked  perception,  the  mind  is,  for 
the  most  part,  only  passive  ;  and  what  it  perceives,  it  cannot 
avoid  perceiving. 


142  OF  PERCEPTION.  [BOOK  li. 

§  2.    IS  ONLY  WHEN  THE  MIND  RECEIVES  THE  IMPRESSION. 

What  perception  is,  every  one  will  know  better  by  reflecting 
on  what  he  does  himself,  what  he  sees,  hears,  feels,  &c.  or  thinks, 
than  by  any  discourse  of  mine.  Whoever  reflects  on  what  passes 
in  his  own  mind,  cannot  miss  it :  and  if  he  does  not  reflect,  all 
the  words  in  the  world  cannot  make  him  have  any  notion  of  it. 

§3. 

This  is  certain,  that  whatever  alterations  are  made  in  the  body, 
if  they  reach  not  the  mind ;  whatever  impressions  are  made  on 
the  outward  parts,  if  they  are  not  taken  notice  of  within  ;  there 
is  no  perception.  Fire  may  burn  our  bodies,  with  no  other  effect 
than  it  does  a  billet,  unless  the  motion  be  continued  to  the  brain, 
and  there  the  sense  of  heat,  or  idea  of  pain,  be  produced  in  the 
mind  wherein  consists  actual  perception. 

§4. 

How  often  may  a  man  observe  in  himself,  that  whilst  his  mind 
is  intently  employed  in  the  contemplation  of  some  objects,  and 
curiously  surveying  some  ideas  that  are  there,  it  takes  no  notice 
of  impressions  of  sounding  bodies  made  upon  the  organ  of  hearing 
with  the  same  alteration  that  uses  to  be  for  the  producing  the  idea 
of  sound.  A  sufficient  impulse  there  may  be  on  the  organ  ; 
but  if  not  reaching  the  observation  of  the  mind,  there  follows  no 
perception ;  and  though  the  motion  that  uses  to  produce  the 
idea  of  sound  be  made  in  the  ear,  yet  no  sound  is  heard.  Want 
of  sensation,  in  this  case,  is  not  through  any  defect  in  the  organ, 
or  that  the  man's  ears  are  less  affected  than  at  other  times  when 
he  does  hear  :  but  that  which  uses  to  produce  the  idea,  though 
conveyed  in  by  the  usual  organ,  not  being  taken  notice  of  in  the 
understanding,  and  so  imprinting  no  idea  in  the  mind,  there  fol- 
lows no  sensation.  So  that  wherever  there  is  sense,  or  percep- 
tion, there  some  idea  is  actually  produced  and  present  in  the 
understanding. 

0  5.    CHILDREN,  THOUGH  THEY  HAVE  IDEAS  IN  THE  WOMB,  HAVE  NONE 

INNATE. 

Therefore  I  doubt  not  but  children,  by  the  exercise  of  their 
senses  about  objects  that  affect  them  in  the  womb,  receive  some 
few  ideas  before  they  are  born;  as  the  unavoidable  effects,  either 
of  the  bodies  that  environ  them,  or  else  of  those  wants  or  dis- 
eases they  suffer :  among  which  (if  one  may  conjecture  concern- 
ing things  not  very  capable  of  examination)  I  think  the  ideas  of 
hunger  and  warmth  are  two  ;  which  probably  are  some  of  the 
first  that  children  have,  and  which  they  scarce  ever  part  with 
again. 


'■.M     IX.*]  OF  PERCEPTION.  14 J 

§6. 
But  though  it  be  reasonable  to  imagine  that  children  receive 
some  ideas  before  they  come  into  the  world,  yet  those  simple 
ideas  arc  far  from  those  innate  principles  which  some  contend  for, 
and  we  above  have  rejected.  These  here  mentioned  being  the 
effects  of  sensation,  are  only  from  some  affections  of  the  body, 
which  happen  to  them  there,  and  so  depend  on  something  exterior 
to  the  mind  ;  no  otherwise  differing  in  their  manner  of  production 
from  other  ideas  derived  from  sense,  but  only  in  the  precedency 
of  time  ;  whereas  those  innate  principles  are  supposed  to  be  quite 
of  another  nature,  not  coming  into  the  mind  by  any  accidental 
alterations  in,  or  operations  on,  the  body,  but,  as  it  were,  original 
characters  impressed  upon  it  in  the  very  first  moment  of  its  being, 
and  constitution. 

§  7.    WHICH  IDEAS  FIRST,  IS  NOT  EVIDENT. 

As  there  are  some  ideas  which  we  may  reasonably  suppose  may 
be  introduced  into  the  minds  of  children  in  the  womb,  subser- 
vient to  the  necessities  of  their  life  and  being  there  ;  so  after 
they  are  born,  those  ideas  are  the  earliest  imprinted  which  hap- 
pen to  be  the  sensible  qualities  which  first  occur  to  them:  among 
which,  light  is  not  the  least  considerable,  nor  of  the  weakest  effi- 
cacy. And  how  covetous  the  mind  is  to  be  furnished  with  all  such 
ideas  as  have  no  pain  accompanying  them,  may  be  a  little  guessed 
by  what  is  observable  in  children  new-born,  who  always  turn  their 
eyes  to  that  part  from  whence  the  light  comes,  lay  them  how  you 
please.  But  the  ideas  that  are  most  familiar  at  first  being  various, 
according  to  the  divers  circumstances  of  children's  first  entertain- 
ment in  the  world,  the  order  wherein  the  several  ideas  come  at 
first  into  the  mind  is  very  various  and  uncertain  also ;  neither  is 
it  much  material  to  know  it. 

§  8.    IDEAS  OF    SENSATION  OFTEN  CHANGED  BY  THE  JUDGMENT. 

We  are  further  to  consider  concerning  perception,  that  the 
ideas  we  receive  by  sensation  are  often  in  grown  people  altered 
by  the  judgment,  without  our  taking  notice  of  it.  When  we  set 
before  our  eyes  a  round  globe,  of  any  uniform  colour,  v.  g.  gold, 
alabaster,  or  jet,  it  is  certain  that  the  idea  thereby  imprinted  in 
our  mind  is  of  a  flat  circle  variously  shadowed,  with  several 
degrees  of  light  and  brightness  coming  to  our  eyes ;  but  we  having 
by  use  been  accustomed  to  perceive  what  kind  of  appearance 
convex  bodies  are  wont  to  make  in  us,  what  alterations  are  made 
in  the  reflections  of  light  by  the  difference  of  the  sensible  figures 
of  bodies,  the  judgment  presently,  by  an  habitual  custom,  alters 
ihc  appearances  into  their  causes  ;  so  that  from  that  which  is  truly 
variety  of  shadow  or  colour,  collecting  the  figure,  it  makes  it 
pass  for  a  mark  or  figure,  and  frames  to  itself  the  perception  of  a 
convex  figure  and  a  uniform  colour:  when  the  idea  we  receive 
from  thence  is  only  a  plane,  variously  coloured,  as  is  evident  in 


i44  Of  PERCEPTION  [BOOK  JL 

painting.  To  which  purpose  I  shall  here  insert  a  problem  of 
that  very  ingenious  and  studious  promoter  of  real  knowledge,  the 
learned  and  worthy  Mr.  Molineaux,  which  he  was  pleased  to 
send  me  in  a  letter  some  months  since  ;  and  it  is  this  :  Suppose  a 
man  born  blind  and  now  adult,  and  taught  by  his  touch  to  dis- 
tinguish between  a  cube  and  a  sphere  of  the  same  metal,  and 
nighly  of  the  same  bigness,  so  as  to  tell  when  he  felt  one  and 
the  other,  which  is  the  cube,  which  the  sphere.  Suppose  then 
the  cube  and  the  sphere  placed  on  a  table,  and  the  blind  man  be 
made  to  see  :  quaere,  "whether  by  his  sight,  before  he  touched 
them,  he  could  now  distinguish  and  tell  which  is  the  globe,  which 
the  cube  ?"  to  which  the  acute  and  judicious  proposer  answers, 
Not.  For  though  he  has  obtained  the  experience  of  how  a  globe, 
how  a  cube  affects  his  touch  ;  yet  he  has  not  yet  obtained  the 
experience,  that  what  affects  his  touch  so  or  so,  must  affect  his 
sight  so  or  so  ;  or  that  a  protuberant  angle  in  the  cube  that  press- 
ed his  hand  unequally,  shall  appear  to  his  eye  as  it  does  in  the 
cube.  I  agree  with  this  thinking  gentleman,  whom  I  am  proud 
to  call  my  friend,  in  his  answer  to  this  his  problem  ;  and  am  of 
opinion,  that  the  blind  man,  at  first  sight,  would  not  be  able  with 
certainty  to  say,  which  was  the  globe,  which  the  cube,  whilst  he 
only  saw  them :  though  he  could  unerringly  name  them  by  his 
touch,  and  certainly  distinguish  them  by  the  difference  of  their 
figures  felt.  This  I  have  set  down,  and  leave  with  my  reader,  as 
an  occasion  for  him  to  consider  how  much  he  may  be  beholden  to 
experience,  improvement,  and  acquired  notions,  where  he  thinks 
he  had  not  the  least  use  of  or  help  from  them  :  and  the  rather, 
because  this  observing  gentleman  farther  adds,  that  having,  upon 
the  occasion  of  my  book,  proposed  this  to  divers  very  ingenious 
men,  be  hardly  ever  met  with  one,  that  at  first  gave  the  answer 
to  it  which  he  thinks  true,  till  by  hearing  his  reasons  they  were 
convinced. 

But  this  is  not,  I  think,  usual  in  any  of  our  ideas  but  those 
received  by  sight :  because  sight,  the  most  comprehensive  of  all 
our  senses,  conveying  to  our  minds  the  ideas  of  light  and  colours, 
which  are  peculiar  only  to  that  sense  ;  and  also  the  far  different 
ideas  of  space,  figure,  and  motion,  the  several  varieties  whereof 
change  the  appearances  of  its  proper  object,  viz.  light  and  co- 
lours; we  bring  ourselves  by  use  to  judge  of  the  one  by  the 
other.  This,  in  many  cases,  by  a  settled  habit,  in  things  whereof 
we  have  frequent  experience,  is  performed  so  constantly,  and  so 
quick,  that  we  take  that  for  the  reception  of  our  sensation  which 
is  an  idea  formed  by  our  judgment:  so  that  one,  viz.  that  of  sensa- 
tion, serves  only  to  excite  the  other,  and  is  scarce  taken  notice 
of  itself:  as  a  man  who  reads  or  hears  with  attention  and  under- 
standing, takes  little  notice  of  the  characters  or  sounds,  but  of' 
(he  ideas  (hat  are  excited  in  him  bv  them= 


Cflf.  IX.j  dP  PERCEPTION.  XJ  1 5 

§  10. 
Nor  need  we  wonder  tliat  this  is  done  with  so  little  notice,  it 
we  consider  how  very  quick  the  actions  of  the  mind  are  perform- 
ed :  for  as  itself  is  thought  to  take  up  no  space,  to  have  no 
extension  ;  so  its  actions  seem  to  require  no  time,  but  many  of 
them  seem  to  be  crowded  into  an  instant.  I  speak  this  in  com- 
parison to  the  actions  of  the  body.  Any  one  may  easily  observe 
this  in  his  own  thoughts,  who  will  take  the  pains  to  reflect  on 
them.  How,  as  it  were  in  an  instant,  do  our  minds  with  one 
glance  see  all  the  parts  of  a  demonstration,  which  may  very  well 
be  called  a  long  one,  if  we  consider  the  time  it  will  require  to 
put  it  into  words,  and  step  by  step  show  it  another!  Secondly, 
we  shall  not  be  so  much  surprised  that  this  is  done  in  us  with  so 
little  notice,  if  we  consider  how  the  facility  which  we  get  of  doing 
things,  by  a  custom  of  doing,  makes  them  often  pass  in  us  with- 
out our  notice.  Habits,  especially  such  as  are  begun  very  early, 
come  at  last  to  produce  actions  in  us  which  often  escape  our  ob- 
servation. How  frequently  do  we,  in  a  day,  cover  our  eyes  witU 
our  eyelids,  without  perceiving  that  we  are  at  all  in  the  dark! 
Men  that  by  custom  have  got  the  use  of  a  by-word,  do  almost  in 
every  sentence  pronounce  sounds  which,  though  taken  notice  of 
by  others,  they  themselves  neither  hear  nor  observe  ;  and  there- 
fore it  is  not  so  strange  that  our  mind  should  often  change  the 
idea  of  its  sensation  into  that  of  its  judgment,  and  make  one  serve 
only  to  excite  the  other,  without  our  taking  notice  of  it. 

§     11.    PERCEPTION    PUTS   THE    DIFFERENCE     BETWEEN     ANIMAtS     ANT* 
INFERIOR  BEINGS. 

This  faculty  of  perception  seems  to  me  to  be  that  which  puts 
the  distinction  betwixt  the  animal  kingdom  and  the  inferior  parts 
of  nature.  For  however  vegetables  have,  many  of  them,  some  de- 
grees of  motion,  and  upon  the  different  application  of  other  bodies 
to  them,  do  very  briskly  alter  their  figures  and  motions,  and  so 
have  obtained  the  name  of  sensitive  plants,  from  a  motion  which 
has  some  resemblance  to  that  which  in  animals  follows  upon 
sensation  ;  yet  I  suppose  it  is  all  bare  mechanism,  and  no  other- 
wise produced  than  the  turning  of  a  wild,  oat-beard,  by  the  insi- 
nuation of  the  particles  of  moisture,  or  the  shortening  of  a  rope 
by  the  affusion  of  water  ;  all  which  is  done  without  any  sensation 
in  the  subject,  or  the  having  or  receiving  any  ideas. 

§12. 

Perception,  I  believe,  is  in  some  degree  in  all  sorts  of  animals; 
though  in  some,  possibly,  the  avenues  provided  by  nature  for  the 
reception  of  sensations  are  so  few,  and  the  perception  they  are 
received  with  so  obscure  and  dull,  that  it  comes  extremely  short 
of  the  quickness  and  variety  of  sensation  which  are  in  other  ani- 
mals ;  but  yet  it  is  sufficient  for,  and  wisely  adapted  to.  the  state 

Vol.  !•  '  10 


146  OF   PERCEPTIOIS.  [BOOR  li 

and  condition  of  that  sort  of  animals  who  are  thus  made  ;  so  that 
the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  the  Maker  plainly  appear  in  all  the 
parts  of  this  stupendous  fabric,  and  all  the  several  degrees  and 
ranks  of  creatures  in  it. 

§  13.' 
We  mav.  I  think,  from  the  make  of  an  oyster  or  cockle,  reason- 
ably conclude  that  it  has  not  so  many  nor  so  quick  senses  as  a 
man,  or  several  other  animals  ;  nor  if  it  had,  would  it,  in  that 
state  and  incapacity  of  transferring  itself  from  one  place  to 
another,  be  bettered  by  them.  What  good  would  sight  and  hear- 
in«-  do  to  a  creature  that  cannot  move  itself  to  or  from  the  objects 
wherein  at  a  distance  it  perceives  good  or  evil  ?  And  would  not 
quickness  of  sensation  be  an  inconvenience  to  an  animal  that 
must  lie  still,  where  chance  has  once  placed  it;  and  there  receive 
the  afflux  of  colder  or  warmer,  clean  or  foul  water,  as  it  happens 
to  come  to  it  ? 

§14. 
But  yet  I  cannot  but  think  there  is  some  small  dull  perception 
whereby  they  are  distinguished  from  perfect  insensibility.  And 
that  this  may  be  so,  we  have  plain  instances  even  in  mankind 
itself.  Take  one,  in  whom  decrepit  old  age  has  blotted  out  the 
memory  of  his  past  knowledge,  and  clearly  wiped  out  the  ideas 
his  mind  was  formerly,  stored  with  :  and  has,  by  destroying  his 
sight,  hearing,  and  smell  quite,  and  his  taste  to  a  great  degree, 
stopped  up  almost  all  the  passages  for  new  ones  to  enter ;  or,  if 
there  be  some  of  the  inlets  yet  half  open,  the  impressions  made 
are  scarce  perceived,  or  not  at  all  retained.  How  far  such  an  one 
(notwithstanding  all  that  is  boasted  of  innate  principles)  is  in  his 
knowledge  and  intellectual  faculties  above  the  condition  of  a 
cockle  or  an  oyster,  I  leave  to  be  considered.  And  if  a  man  had 
passed  sixty  years  in  such  a  state,  as  it  is  possible  he  might,  as 
well  as  three  days,  I  wonder  what  difference  there  would  have 
been,  in  any  intellectual  perfections,  between  him  and  the  lowest 
degree  of  animals. 

§   15.    PERCEPTION  THE  INLET  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 

Perception  then  being  the  first  step  and  degree  towards  know- 
ledge, and  the  inlet  of  all  the  materials  of  it,  the  fewer  senses 
any  man,  as  well  as  any  other  creature,  hath,  and  the  fewer  and 
duller  the  impressions  are  that  are  made  by  them,  and  the  duller 
the  faculties  are  that  are  employed  about  them,  the  more  remote 
are  they  from  that  knowledge  which  is  to  be  found  in  some  men. 
But  this  being  in  great  variety  of  degrees  (as  may  be  perceived 
among  men)  cannot  certainly  be  discovered  in  the  several 
species  of  animals,  much  less  in  their  particular  individuals.  It 
suffices  me  only  to  have  remarked  here,  that  perception  is  the 
first  operation  of  all  our  intellectual  faculties,  and  the  inlet  of 


Vil.   X.J  OF  RETENTION.  147 

all  knowledge  in  our  minds  :  and  I  am  apt  too  to  imagine  that  it 
is  perception,  in  the  lowest  degree  of  it,  which  puts  the  boun- 
daries between  animals  and  the  inferior  ranks  of  creatures.  But 
this  I  mention  only  as  my  conjecture  by  the  by;  it  being  indiffer- 
ent to  the  matter  in  hand  which  way  the  learned  shall  determine 
of  it. 


CHAPTER  X. 

OF  RETENTION. 


§   1.   CONTEMFI  ATIO.Y. 

The  next  faculty  of  the  mind,  whereby  it  makes  a  farther  pro" 
gress  toward  knowledge,  is  that  which  1  call  retention,  or  the 
keeping  of  those  simple  ideas  which  from  sensation  or  reflection 
it  hath  received.  This  is  done  two  ways  ;  first,  by  keeping  the. 
idea,  which  is  brought  into  it,  for  some  time  actually  in  view  : 
which  is  called  contemplation. 

§  2.    MEMORY. 

The  other  way  of  retention  is  the  power  to  revive  again  in 
our  minds  those  ideas  which  after  imprinting  have  disappeared, 
or  have  been  as  it  were  laid  aside  out  of  sight :  and  thus  we  do 
when  we  conceive  heat  or  light,  yellow  or  sweet,  the  object  being 
removed.  This  is  memory,  which  is  as  it  were  the  store-house  of 
our  ideas.  For  the  narrow  mind  of  man  not  being  capable  of 
having  many  ideas  under  view  and  consideration  at  once,  it  was 
necessary  to  have  a  repository  to  lay  up  those  ideas,  which  at 
another  time  it  might  have  use  of.  But  our  ideas  being  nothing 
but  actual  perceptions  in  the  mind,  which  cease  to  be  any  thing 
when  there  is  no  perception  of  them,  this  laying  up  of  our  ideas 
in  the  repository  of  the  memory  signifies  no  more  but  this,  that 
the  mind  has  a  power  in  many  cases  to  revive  perceptions  which 
it  once  had,  with  this  additional  perception  annexed  to  them, 
that  it  has  had  them  before.  And  in  this  sense  it  is,  that  our 
ideas  are  said  to  be  in  our  memories,  when  indeed  they  are  ac- 
tually lyawhere,  but  only  there  is  an  ability  in  the  mind  when  ii 
will  to  revive  them  again,  and  as  it  were  paint  them  anew  on 
itself,  though  some  with  more,  some  with  less  difficulty;  some 
more  lively,  and  others  more  obscurely.  And  thus  it  is.  by  the 
assistance  of  this  faculty,  that  we  are  to  have  ail  those  ideas  in 
our  understandings,  which  though  we  do  not  actually  contem- 
plate, yet  we  can  bring  in  sight,  and  make  appear  auam,  and  be 
the  objects  of  our  thoughts,  without  the  help  of  those  sensible 
qualities  which  first  imprinted  them  there. 


I  4$  OF  RETENtfldHT.  [book  n". 

§  3.   A  TTKVTIOX,  REPETITION,   PLEASURE, AND  FAIN,  FIX  IDEAS. 

Attention  and  repetition  help  much  to  the  fixing  any  ideas  in 
the  memory  :  but  those  which  naturally  at  first  make  the  deep- 
est and  most  lasting  impression  are  those  which  are  accompanied 
with  pleasure  or  pain.  The  great  business  of  the  senses  being 
to  make  us  take  notice  of  what  hurts  or  advantages  the  body, 
it  is  wisely  ordered  by  nature  (as  has  been  shown)  that  pain 
should  accompany  the  reception  of  several  ideas ;  which,  sup- 
plying the  place  of  consideration  and  reasoning  in  children,  and 
acting  quicker  than  consideration  in  grown  men,  makes  both  the 
old  and  young  avoid  painful  objects  with  that  haste  which  is 
necessary  for  their  preservation  ;  and,  in  both,  settles  in  the  me- 
mory a  caution  for  the  future. 

§  4.    IDEAS  FADE  IN  THE  MEMORY. 

Concerning  the  several  degrees  of  lasting,  wherewith  ideas  are 
imprinted  on  the  memory,  we  may  observe,  that  some  of  them 
have  been  produced  in  the  understanding  by  an  object  affecting 
the  senses  once  only,  and  no  more  than  once  ;  others,  that  have 
more  than  once  offered  themselves  to  the  senses,  have  yet  been 
little  taken  notice  of:  the  mind  either  heedless,  as  in  children, 
or  otherwise  employed,  as  in  men,  intent  only  on  one  thing,  not 
setting  the  stamp  deep  into  itself:  and  in  some,  where  they  are 
set  on  with  care  and  repeated  impressions,  either  through  the 
temper  of  the  body,  or  some  other  fault,  the  memory  is  very 
weak.  In  all  these  cases,  ideas  in  the  mind  quickly  fade,  and 
often  vanish  quite  out  of  the  understanding,  leaving  no  more 
footsteps  or  remaining  characters  of  themselves  than  shadows 
do  flying  over  fields  of  corn  ;  and  the  mind  is  as  void  of  them  as 
if  they  had  never  been  there. 


Thus  many  of  those  ideas  which  were  produced  in  the  minds 
of  children,  in  the  beginning  of  their  sensation,  (some  of  which, 
yerhaps,  as  of  some  pleasures  and  pains,  were  before  they  were 
horn,  and  others  in  their  infancy,)  if  in  the  future  course  of  their 
lives  they  are  not  repeated  again,  are  quite  lost,  without  the 
least  glimpse  remaining  of  them.  This  may  be  observed  in 
those  who  by  some  mischance  have  lost  their  sight  when  they 
were  very  young,  in  whom  the  ideas  of  colours  having  been  but 
slightly  taken  notice  of,  and  ceasing  to  be  repeated,  do  quite 
wear  out ;  so  that  some  years  after  there  is  no  more  notion  nor 
memory  of  colours  left  in  their  minds  than  in  those  of  people 
born  blind.  The  memory  of  some,  it  is  true,  is  very  tenacious, 
even  to  a  miracle :  but  yet  there  seems  to  be  a  constant  decay 
of  all  our  ideas,  even  of  those  which  are  struck  deepest,  and  in 
minds  the  most  retentive  ;  so  that  if  they  be  not  sometimes  re- 
newed by  repeated  exercises  of  the  senses,  or  reflection  on  those 
kinds  of  objects  wbith  at  first  occasioned  them,  the  print  wear* 


Yjl.  X.  j  OF  RETENTION.  149 

out,  and  at  last  there  remains  nothing  to  be  seen.  Thus  the  ideas, 
as  well  as  children  of  our  youth  often  die  before  us  :  and  our 
minds  represent  to  us  those  tombs  to  which  we  are  approaching  ; 
where  though  the  brass  and  marble  remain,  yet  the  inscriptions 
are  effaced  by  time,  and  the  imagery  moulders  away.  The  pic- 
tures drawn  in  our  minds  are  laid  in  fading  colours,  and,  if  not 
sometimes  refreshed,  vanish  and  disappear.  How  much  the 
constitution  of  our  bodies  and  the  make  of  our  animal  spirits 
are  concerned  in  this,  and  whether  the  temper  of  the  brain  makes 
this  difference,  that  in  some  it  retains  the  characters  drawn  on  it 
like  marble,  in  others  like  freestone,  and  in  others  little  better 
than  sand.  1  shall  not  here  inquire  ;  though  it  may  seem  probable, 
that  the  constitution  of  the  body  does  sometimes  influence  the 
memory  ;  since  we  oftentimes  find  a  disease  quite  strip  the  mind 
of  all  its  ideas,  and  the  flames  of  a  fever  in  a  few  days  calcine 
all  those  images  to  dust  and  confusion,  which  seemed  to  be  as 
lasting  as  if  graved  in  marble. 

§  6.  CONSTANTLY  REPEATED  IDEAS  CAN  SCARCE  BE  LOST.  . 

But  concerning  the  ideas  themselves,  it  is  eas\  to  remark  that 
those  that  are  oftenest  refreshed  (among  which  are  those  that 
are  conveyed  into  the  mind  by  more  ways  than  one)  by  a  frequent 
return  of  the  objects  or  actions  that  produce  them,  fix  themselves 
best  in  the  memory,  and  remain  clearest  and  longest  there  :  and 
therefore  those  which  are  of  the  original  qualities  of  hordes,  viz. 
solidity,  extension,  figure,  motion,  and  rest;  and  those  that  almost 
constantly  affect  our  bodies,  as  heat  and  cold  ;  and  those  which 
are  the  affections  of  all  kinds  of  beings,  as  existence,  duration,  and 
number,  which  almost  every  object  that  affects  our  senses,  every 
thought  which  employs  our  minds,  bring  along  with  them  :  these, 
I  say,  and  the  like  ideas,  are  seldom  quite  lost  whilst  the  mind 
retains  any  ideas  at  all. 

§  7.    IN  REMEMBERING,  THE  MIND  IS  OFTEN  ACTIVE. 

In  this  secondary  perception,  as  I  may  so  call  it,  or  viewing 
again  the  ideas  that  are  lodged  in  the  memory,  the  mind  is  often 
times  more  than  barely  passive  ;  the  appearance  of  those  dor- 
mant pictures  depending  sometimes  on  the  will.  The  mind  very 
often  sets  itself  on  work  in  search  of  some  hidden  idea,  and 
turns  as  it  were  the  eye  of  the  soul  upon  it ;  though  sometimes 
too  they  start  up  in  our  minds  of  their  own  accord,  and  offer 
themselves  to  the  understanding  ;  and  very  often  are  roused  and 
tumbled  out  of  their  dark  cells  into  open  daylight  by  turbulent 
and  tempestuous,  passions,  our  affections  bringing  ideas  to  our 
memory,  which  had  otherwise  lain  quiet  and  unregarded.  This 
farther  is  to  be  observed,  concerning  ideas  lodged  in  the  memory, 
and  upon  occasion  revived  by  the  mind,  that  they  are  not  only 
(as  the  word  revive  imports)  none  of  them  new  ones  5  but  also 
that  the  mind  frak^s  notirr  of  them,  as  r>f  a  former  impression. 


150  OF  RETENTION.  [BOOKH. 

and  renews  its  acquaintance  with  them  as  with  ideas  it  had 
known  before  ;  so  that  though  ideas  formerly  imprinted  are  not 
all  constantly  in  view,  yet  in  remembrance  they  are  constantly 
known  to  be  such  as  have  been  formerly  imprinted,  i.  e.  in  view, 
and  taken  notice  of  before  by  the  understanding. 

§  8.    TWO  DEFECTS  IN  THE  MEMORY,  OBLIVION   AND  SLOWNESS. 

Memory  in  an  intellectual  creature,  is  necessary  in  the  next 
degree  to  perception.  It  is  of  so  great  moment,  that  where  it  is 
wanting,  all  the  rest  of  our  faculties  are  in  a  great  measure  use- 
less ;  and  we,  in  our  thoughts,  reasonings,  and  knowledge,  could 
not  proceed  beyond  present  objects,  were  it  not  for  the  assistance 
of  our  memories,  wherein  there  may  be  two  defects. 

First,  That  it  loses  the  idea  quite,  and  so  far  it  produces  per- 
fect ignorance  ;  for  since  we  can  know  nothing  farther  than  we 
have  the  idea  of  it,  when  that  is  gone,  we  are  in  perfect  igno- 
rance. 

Secondly,  That  it  moves  slowly,  and  retrieves  not  the  ideas 
that  it  has,  and  are  laid  up  in  store,  quick  enough  to  serve  the 
mind  upon  occasion.  This,  if  it  be  to  a  great  degree,  is  stupidity; 
and  he  who,  through  this  default  in  his  memory,  has  not  the 
ideas  that  are  really  preserved  there  ready  at  hand  when  need 
and  occasion  call  for  them,  were  almost  as  good  be  without  them 
quite,  since  they  serve  him  to  little  purpose.  The  dull  man,  who 
loses  the  opportunity  whilst  he  is  seeking  in  his  mind  for  those 
ideas  that  should  serve  his  turn,  is  not  much  more  happy  in  his 
knowledge  than  one  that  is  perfectly  ignorant.  It  is  the  business 
therefore  of  the  memory  to  furnish  to  the  mind  those  dormant 
ideas  which  it  has  present  occasion  for ;  in  the  having  them 
ready  at  hand  on  all  occasions  consists  that  which  we  call  inven- 
tion,  fancy,  and  quickness  of  parts. 

§9. 

These  are  defects,  we  may  observe,  in  the  memory  of  one 
man  compared  with  another.  There  is  another  defect  which 
we  may  conceive  to  be  in  the  memory  of  man  in  general,  com- 
pared with  some  superior  created  intellectual  beings,  which  in 
this,  faculty  may  so  far  excel  man,  that  they  may  have  constantly 
in  view  the  whole  scene  of  all  their  former  actions,  wherein  no 
one  of  the  thoughts  they  have  ever  had  may  slip  out  of  their 
sight.  The  omniscience  of  God,  who  knows  all  things,  past, 
present,  and  to  come,  and  to  whom  the  thoughts  of  men's  hearts 
always  lie  open,  may  satisfy  us  of  the  possibility  of  this.  For  who 
can  doubt  but  God  may  communicate  to  those  glorious  spirits, 
his  immediate  attendants,  any  of  his  perfections,  in  what  propor- 
tions he  pleases,  as  far  as  created  finite  beings  can  be  capable  '/ 
It  is  reported  of  that  prodigy  of  parts,  Monsieur  Pascal,  that  till 
the  decay  of  his  health  had  impaired  his  memory,  he  forgot 
nothing  of  what  he  had  done.  read,  or  thought,  in  any  part  of 


CH.  X.j  OP  RETENTION.  151 

his  rational  age.  This  is  a  privilege  so  little  known  to  most 
men,  that  it  seems  almost  incredible  to  those  who,  after  the  or- 
dinary way,  measure  all  others  by  themselves ;  but  yet,  when 
considered,  may  help  us  to  enlarge  our  thoughts  towards  greater 
perfection  of  it  in  superior  ranks  of  spirits.  For  this  of  Mr. 
Pascal  was  still  with  the  narrowness  that  human  minds  are  con- 
fined to  here,  of  having  great  variety  of  ideas  only  by  succe^sion, 
not  all  at  once  ;  whereas  the  several  degrees  of  angels  may  pro- 
bably have  larger  views,  and  some  of  them  be  endowed  with 
capacities  able  to  retain  together,  and  constantly  set  before  them, 
as  in  one  picture,  all  their  past  knowledge  at  once.  This,  we 
may  conceive,  would  be  no  small  advantage  to  the  knowledge  of 
a  thinking  man,  if  all  his  past  thoughts  and  reasonings  could  be 
always  present  to  him  :  and  therefore  we  may  suppose  it  one  of 
those  ways  wherein  the  knowledge  of  separate  spirits  may  ex- 
ceedingly surpass  ours. 

§   10.    BRUTES  HAVE  MEMORV. 

This  faculty  of  laying  up  and  retaining  the  ideas  that  are 
brought  into  the  mind,  several  other  animals  seem  to  have  to  a 
great  degree,  as  well  as  man  :  for,  to  pass  by  other  instances,  birds 
learning  of  tunes,  and  the  endeavours  one  may  observe  in  them 
to  hit  the  notes  right,  put  it  past  doubt  with  me  that  they  have 
perception,  and  retain  ideas  in  their  memories,  and  use  them  for 
patterns  :  for  it  seems  to  me  impossible  that  they  should  endea- 
vour to  conform  their  voices  to  notes  (as  it  is  plain  they  do)  of 
which  they  had  no  ideas.  For  though  I  should  grant  sound  may 
mechanically  cause  a  certain  motion  of  the  animal  spirits,  in  the 
brains  of  those  birds,  whilst  the  tune  is  actually  playing;  and 
that  motion  may  be  continued  on  to  the  muscles  of  the  wings, 
and  so  the  bird  mechanically  be  driven  away  by  certain  noises, 
because  this  may  tend  to  the  bird's  preservation  ;  yet  that  can 
never  be  supposed  a  reason  why  it  should  cause  mechanically, 
either  whilst  the  tune  is  playing,  much  less  after  it  has  ceased, 
such  a  motion  of  the  organs  in  the  bird's  voice,  as  should  con- 
form it  to  the  notes  of  a  foreign  sound,  which  imitation  can  be 
of  no  use  to  the  bird's  preservation.  But,  which  is  more,  it  cannot 
with  any  appearance  of  reason  be  supposed  (much  iess  proved) 
that  birds,  without  sense  and  memory,  can  approach  their  notes 
nearer  and  nearer  by  degrees  to  a  tune  played  yesterday,  which 
ii  they  have  no  idea  of  in  their  memory,  is  nowhere,  nor  can  be 
a  pattern  for  them  to  imitate,  or  which  any  repeated  essays  can 
bring  them  nearer  to  :  since  there  is  no  reason  why  the  sound  of 
a  pipe  should  leave  traces  in  their  brains,  which  not  at  first,  but 
by  their  after  endeavours,  should  produce  the  like  sounds ;  and 
why  the  sounds  they  make  themselves  should  not  make  traces 
which  they  should  follow,  as  well  as  those  of  the  pipe,  is  impossi- 
ble to  conceive. 


I5i> 


CHAPTER  XI. 

OF  DISCERNING  AND  OTHER  OPERATIONS  OF  THE  -MIND 

§   1.    NO  KNOWLEDGE  WITHOUT  DISCERNMENT. 

Another  faculty  we  may  take  notice  of  in  our  minds,  is  that 
of  discerning  and  distinguishing  between  the  several  ideas  it  has. 
It  is  not  enough  to  have  a  confused  perception  of  something  in 
general :  unless  the  mind  had  a  distinct  perception  of  different 
objects  and  their  qualities,  it  would  be  capable  of  very  little 
knowledge,  though  the  bodies  that  affect  us  were  as  busy  about 
us  as  they  are  now,  and  the  mind  were  continually  employed  in 
thinking.  On  this  faculty  of  distinguishing  one  thing  from  ano- 
ther depends  the  evidence  and  certainty,  of  several,  even  very 
general  propositions,  which  have  passed  for  innate  truths,  because 
men,  overlooking  the  true  cause  why  those  propositions  find  uni- 
versal assent,  impute  it  wholly  to  native  uniform  impressions, 
whereas  in  truth  it  depends  upon  this  clear  discerning  faculty  of 
the  mind,  whereby  it  perceives  two  ideas  to  be  the  same  or  dif- 
ferent.    But  of  this  more  hereafter. 

§  2.  THE  DIFFERENCE  OF  WIT  AND  JUDGMENT. 

How  much  the  imperfection  of  accurately  discriminating  ideas 
one  from  another  lies  either  in  the  dulness  or  faults  of  the  organs 
of  sense,  or  want  of  acuteness,  exercise,  or  attention  in  the  un- 
derstanding, or  hastiness  and  precipitancy,  natural  to  some  tem- 
pers, I  will  not  here  examine  ;  it  suffices  to  take  notice,  that  this 
is  one  of  the  operations  that  the  mind  may  reflect  on  and  observe 
in  itself.  It  is  of  that  consequence  to  its  other  knowledge,  that 
so  far  as  this  faculty  is  in  itself  dull,  or  nor  rightly  made  use  of, 
for  the  distinguishing  one  thing  from  another,  so  far  our  notions 
are  confused,  and  our  reason  and  judgment  disturbed  or  misled. 
If  in  having  our  ideas  in  the  memory  ready  at  hand  consists 
quickness  of  parts :  in  this  of  having  them  unconfused,  and  be- 
ing able  nicely  to  distinguish  one  thing  from  another,  where  there 
is  but  the  least  difference,  consists,  in  a  great  measure,  the  ex- 
actness of  judgment  and  clearness  of  reason,  which  is  to  be 
observed  in  one  man  above  another.  And  hence  perhaps  may 
be  given  some  reason  of  that  common  observation,  that  men 
who  have  a  great  deal  of  wit,  and  prompt  memories,  have  not 
always  the  clearest  judgment  or  deepest  reason  :  for  wit  lying 
most  in  the  assemblage  of  ideas,  and  putting  those  together 
with  quickness  and  variety,  wherein  can  be  found  any  resem- 
blance or  congruity,  thereby  to  make  up  pleasant  pictures  and 
agreeable  visions  in  the  fancy  ;  judgment,  on  the  contrary,  lies 
quite  on  the  other  side,  in  separating  carefully,  one  from  ano- 
ther, ideas,  wherein  can  bp  found  the  least  difference,  therein 


CH.    XI.  j  BI8«  ERNINGi  1/iJ 

to  avoid  being  misled  by  similitude,  and  by  affinity  to  take  one 
thing  for  another.  This  is  a  way  of  proceeding  quite  contrary 
to  metaphor  and  allusion,  wherein  for  the  most  part  lies  that 
entertainment  and  pleasantry  of  wit  which  strikes  so  lively  on 
the  fancy,  and  therefore  is  so  acceptable  to  all  people,  because 
its  beauty  appears  at  first  sight,  and  there  is  required  no  labour 
of  thought  to  examine  what  truth  or  reason  there  is  in  it.  The 
mind,  without  looking  any  farther,  rests  satisfied  with  the  agree- 
ablcness  of  the  picture,  and  the  gayety  of  the  fancy ;  and  it  is  a 
kind  of  an  affront  to  go  about  to  examine  it  by  the  severe  rules  of 
truth  and  good  reason;  whereby  it  appears  that  it  consists  in 
something  that  is  not  perfectly  conformable  to  them. 

§  3.    CLEARNESS   ALONE  HINDERS  CONFUSION. 

To  the  well  distinguishing  our  ideas,  it  chiefly  contributes  that 
they  be  clear  and  determinate  ;  and  where  they  are  so,  it  will  not 
breed  any  confusion  or  mistake  about  them,  though  the  senses 
>hould  (as  sometimes  they  do)  convey  them  from  the  same  object 
differently  on  different  occasions,  and  so  seem  to  err :  for  though 
a  man  in  a  fever  should  from  sugar  have  a  bitter  taste,  which  at 
another  time  would  produce  a  sweet  one,  yet  the  idea  of  bitter 
in  that  man's  mind  would  be  as  clear  and  distinct  from  the  idea 
of  sweet  as  if  he  had  tasted  only  gall.  Nor  does  it  make  any 
more  confusion  between  the  two  ideas  of  sweet  and  bitter,  that 
the  same  sort  of  body  produces  at  one  time  one,  and  at  another 
lime  another  idea  by  the  taste,  than  it  makes  a  confusion  in  two 
ideas  of  white  and  sweet,  or  white  and  round,  that  the  same 
piece  of  sugar  produces  them  both  in  the  mind  at  the  same  time. 
And  the  ideas  of  orange  colour  and  azure  that  are  produced  in 
the  mind  by  the  same  parcel  of  the  infusion  of  lignum  nephriti- 
cum,  are  no  less  distinct  ideas  than  those  of  the  same  colour^ 
taken  from  two  very  different  bodies. 

§  4.    COMPARING. 

The  comparing  them  one  with  another,  in  respect  of  extent* 
degrees,  time,  place,  or  any  other  circumstances,  is  another  ope- 
ration of  the  mind  about  its  ideas,  and  is  that  upon  which  depends 
all  that  large  tribe  of  ideas  comprehended  under  relations ;  which 
of  how  vast  an  extent  it  is  I  shall  have  occasion  to  consider 
hereafter. 

§  5.  BRUTES  COMPARE  BUT  IMPKRFECTL Y. 

How  far  brutes  partake  in  this  faculty  is  not  easy  to  determine: 
I  imagine  they  have  it  not  in  any  great  degree  ;  for  though  they 
probably  lmve  several  ideas  distinct  enough,  yet  it  seems  to  me 
lo  be  the  prerogative  of  human  understanding,  when  it  has  surfi- 
cieritly  distinguished  any  ideas  so  as  to  perceive  them  to  be  per- 
fectly  different,  and  so  consequently  two,  to  cast  about  and  con- 
sider in  what  circumstances  they  are  capable  to  be  compared  ; 

Vol.  I.  ':o 


iji  DISCERNING.  [BOOK  II 

and  therefore,  I  think  beasts  compare  not  their  ideas  farther  than 
some  sensible  circumstances  annexed  to  the  objects  themselves. 
The  other  power  of  comparing,  which  may  be  observed  in  men, 
belonging  to  general  ideas,  and  useful  only  to  abstract  reasonings, 
■we  may  probably  conjecture  beasts  have  not. 

§  6.  COMPOUNDING, 

The  next  operation  we  may  observe  in  the  mind  about  its  ideas 
is  composition,  whereby  it  puts  together  several  of  those  simple 
ones  it  has  received  from  sensation  and  reflection,  and  combines 
them  into  complex  ones.  Under  this  of  composition  may  be 
reckoned  also  that  of  enlarging,  wherein  though  the  composition 
does  not  so  much  appear  as  in  more  complex  ones,  yet  it  is  never- 
theless  a  putting  several  ideas  together,  though  of  the  same  kind,' 
Thus  by  adding  several  units  together,  we  make  the  idea  of  a 
dozen  ;  and  putting  together  the  repeated  ideas  of  several  perches 
we  frame  that  of  a  furiong. 

§  7.    BRUTES  COMPOUND  BUT  LITTLE. 

Ill  this  also,  I  suppose,  brutes  come  far  short  of  men  ;  for 
though  they  take  in  and  retain  together  several  combinations  of 
simple  ideas,  as  possibly  the  shape,  smell,  and  voice  of  his  master 
make  up  the  complex  idea  a  dog  has  of  him,  or  rather  are  so 
many  distinct  marks  whereby  he  knows  him  ;  yet  I  do  not  think 
they  do  of  themselves  ever  compound  them,  and  make  complex 
ideas.  And  perhaps  even  where  we  think  they  have  complex 
ideas,  it  is  only  one  simple  one  that  directs  them  in  the  knowledge 
of  several  things,  which  possibly  they  distinguish  less  by  their 
sight  than  we  imagine  ;  for  I  have  been  credibly  informed  that  a 
bitch  will  nurse,  play  writh,  and  be  fond  of  young  foxes,  as  much 
as,  and  in  place  of,  her  puppies,  if  you  can  but  get  them  once 
to  stick  her  so  long  that  her  miik  may  go  through  them.  And 
those  animals  which  have  a  numerous  brood  of  young  ones  at 
once,  appear  not  to  have  any  knowledge  of  their  number ;  for 
though  they  are  mightily  concerned  for  any  of  their  young  that' 
are  taken  from  them  whilst  they  are  in  sight  or  hearing,  yet  if 
one  or  two  of  them  be  stolen  from  them  in  their  absence,  or 
without  noise,  they  appear  not  to  miss  them,  or  to  have  any  sense 
that  their  number  is  lessened. 

§  8.   NAMING. 

When  children  have,  by  repeated  sensations,  got  ideas  fixed  in 
their  memories,  they  begin  by  degrees  to  learn  the  use  of  signs. 
And  when  they  have  got  the  skill  to  apply  the  organs  of  speech 
to  the  framing  of  articulate  sounds,  they  begin  to  make  use 
of  words  to  signify  their  ideas  to  others.  These  verbal  signs 
they  sometimes  borrow  from  others,  and  sometimes  make  them- 
selves, as  one  may  observe  among  the  new  and  unusual  name- 
children  oft^n  give  to  things  in  the  first  use  of  language. 


.ii     \  i.  DISCERNING.  ).">."> 

9.    ABSTRACTION'. 

The  use  of  words  then  being  to  stand  as  oiuward  marks  of  our 
internal  ideas,  and  those  ideas  being  taken  from  particular  thing;, 
if  exery  particular  idea  that  we  take  in  should  have  a  distinct 
name,  names  must  be  endless.  To  prevent  this,  the  mind  makes 
the  particular  ideas,  received  from  particular  objects,  to  become 
general ;  which  is  done  by  considering  them  as  they  are  in  the 
mind,  such  appearances,  separate  from  all  other  existences,  and 
the  circumstances  of  real  existence,  as  time,  place,  or  any  other 
concomitant  ideas.  This  is  called  abstraction,  whereby  ideas, 
taken  from  particular  beings,  become  general  representatives  of 
all  of  the  same  kind,  and  their  names  general  names,  applicable 
to  whatever  exists  conformable  to  such  abstract  ideas.  Such 
precise  naked  appearances  in  the  mind,  without  considering  how, 
whence,  or  with  what  others  they  came  there,  the  understanding 
lays  up- (with  names  commonly  annexed  to  them)  as  the  standard 
to  rank  real  existences  into  sorts,  as  they  agree  with  these  pat- 
terns, and  to  denominate  them  accordingly.  Thus  the  same 
colour  being  observed  to-day  in  chalk  or  snow,  which  the  mind 
yesterday  received  from  milk,  it  considers  that  appearance  alone 
makes  it  a  representative  of  ail  of  that  kind  ;  and  having  given 
it  the  name  whiteness,  it  by  that  sound  signifies  the  same  quality 
wheresoever  to  be  imagined  or  met  with  :  and  thus  universal?, 
whether  ideas  or  terms,  are  made. 

§   10.    BRUTES  ABSTRACT  NOT. 

If  it  may  be  doubted,  whether  beasts  compound  and  enlarge 
their  ideas  that  way  to  any  degree  ;  this,  I  think,  I  may  be  posi- 
tive in,  that  the  power  of  abstracting  is  not  at  all  in  them;  and 
that  the  having  of  general  ideas  is  that  which  puts  a  perfect  dis- 
tinction between  man  and  brutes,  and  is  an  excellency  which  the 
faculties  of  brutes  do  by  no  means  attain  to.  For  it  is  evident  we 
observe  no  footsteps  in  them  of  making  use  of  general  signs  for 
universal  ideas  ;  from  which  we  have  reason  to  imagine  that  they 
have  not  the  faculty  of  abstracting,  or  making  general  ideas, 
since  they  have  no  use  of  words,  or  any  other  general  signs. 

§  11. 
Nor  can  it  be  imputed  to  their  want  of  tit  organs  to  frame  arti- 
culate sounds,  that  they  have  no  use  or  knowledge  of  general 
words ;  since  many  of  them,  we  find,  can  fashion  such  sounds, 
and  pronounce  words  distinctly  enough,  but  never  with  any  such 
application.  And  on  the  other  side,  men,  who,  through  some 
defect  in  the  organs  want  words,  yet  fail  not  to  express  their  uni- 
versal ideas  by  signs,  which  serve  them  instead  of  general  words  ; 
a  faculty  which  we  see  beasts  come  short  in.  And  therefore  1 
think  we  may  suppose,  that  it  is  in  this  that  the  spceii  s  of  brutes 
arc  discriminated  from  man  ;  and  it  is  that  proper  difference 
wherein  they  are  wholly  separated,  and  which  at  last  widens  t<> 


166  BiscjiitN i ate.  [book  ii. 

so  vast  a  distance  :  for  if  they  have  any  ideas  at  all,  and  are  not 
bare  machines,  (as  some  would  have  them)  we  cannot  deny  them 
to  have  some  reason.  It  seems  as  evident  to  me,  that  they  do 
some  of  them  in  certain  instances  reason,  as  that  they  have  sense  ; 
but  it  is  only  in  particular  ideas,  just  as  they  received  them  from 
their  senses.  They  arc  the  best  of  them  tied  up  within  those 
narrow  bounds,  and  have  not,  (as  1  think,)  the  faculty  to  enlarge 
them  by  any  kind  of  abstraction. 

§    12.    IDIOTS  AND  MADMEN. 

How  far  idiots  are  concerned  in  the  want  or  weakness  of  any 
or  all  of  the  foregoing  faculties,  an  exact  observation  of  their 
several  ways  of  faltering  would  no  doubt  discover  :  for  those 
who  either  perceive  but  dully,  or  retain  tbe  ideas  that  come  into 
their  minds  but  ill,  who  cannot  readily  excite  or  compound  them, 
will  have  little  matter  to  think  on.  Those  who  cannot  distin- 
guish, compare,  and  abstract,  would  hardly  be  able  to  understand 
and  make  use  of  language,  or  judge  or  reason  to  any  tolerable 
degree  ;  but  only  a  little  and  imperfectly  about  things  present, 
and  very  familiar  to  their  senses.  And  indeed,  any  of  the  fore- 
mentioned  faculties,  if  wanting,  or  out  of  order,  produce  suitable 
effects  in  men's  understandings  and  knowledge. 

§  1:5. 

In  fine,  the  defect  in  naturals  seems  to  proceed  from  want  of 
quickness,  activity,  and  motion  in  the  intellectual  faculties, 
whereby  they  are  deprived  of  reason  ;  whereas  madmen,  on  the 
other  side,  seem  to  suffer  by  the  other  extreme  5  for  they  do  not 
appear  to  me  to  have  lost  the  faculty  of  reasoning  ;  but  having 
joined  together  some  ideas  very  wrongly,  they  mistake  them  for 
truths-,  and  they  err  as  men  do  that  argue  right  from  wrong  prin- 
ciples. For  by  the  violence  of  their  imaginations,  having  taken 
their  fancies  for  realities,  they  make  right  deductions  from  them. 
Thus  you  shall  find  a  distracted  man  fancying  himself  a  king,  with 
a  right  inference  require  suitable  attendance,  respect,  and  obedi- 
ence ;  others,  who  have  thought  themselves  made  of  glass,  have 
used  the  caution  necessary  to  preserve  such  brittle  bodies.  Hence 
it  comes  to  pass  that  a  man,  who  is  very  sober,  and  of  a  right  un- 
derstanding in  all  other  things,  may  in  one  particular  be  as  frantic 
us  any  in  Bedlam  ;  if  either  by  any  sudden  very  strong  impression, 
or  long  fixing  his  fancy  upon  one  sort  of  thoughts,  incoherent 
ideas  have  been  cemented  together  so  powerfully,  as  to  remain 
united.  But  there  arc  degrees  of  madness,  as  of  folly  ;  the  dis- 
orderly jumbling  ideas  together  is  in  some  more,  some' less.  In 
short,  herein  seems  to  lie  the  difference  between  idiots  and  mad- 
men, that  madmen  put  wrong  ideas  together,  and  so  make  wrong 
propositions,  but  argue  and  reason  right  from  them  ;  but  idiots 
make  very  few  or  no  proposition*,  and  reason  scarce  at  all. 


CH.  XI.]  DISCERNING.  157 

§    14.    METHOD. 

These,  I  think,  are  the  first  faculties  and  operations  of  the 
mind  which  it  makes  use  of  in  understanding  ;  and  though  they 
are  exercised  about  all  its  ideas  in  general,  yet  the  instances  I 
have  hitherto  given  have  been  chiefly  in  simple  ideas  :  and  I  have 
subjoined  the  explication  of  ihese  faculties  of  the  mind  to  that  of 
simple  ideas,  before  I  come  to  what  1  have  to  say  concerning 
complex  ones,  for  these  following  reasons. 

First,  Because,  several  of  these  faculties  being  exercised  at 
first  principally  about  simple  ideas,  we  might,  by  following  nature 
in  its  ordinary  method,  trace  and  discover  them  in  their  rise, 
progress,  and  gradual  improvements. 

Secondly,  Because  observing  the  faculties  of  the  mind  how 
they  operate  about  simple  ideas,  which  are  usually,  in  most 
men's  minds,  much  more  clear,  precise,  and  distinct  than  com- 
plex ones  ;  we  may  the  better  examine  and  learn  how  the  mind 
abstracts,  denominates,  compares,  and  exercises  its  other  opera- 
tions about  those  which  are  complex,  wherein  we  are  much 
more  liable  to  mistake. 

Thirdly,  Because  these  very  operations  of  the  mind  about 
ideas,  received  from  sensations,  are  themselves,  when  reflected 
on,  another  set  of  ideas,  derived  from  that  other  source  of  our 
knowledge  which  I  call  reflection,  and  therefore  fit  to  be  consi- 
dered in  this  place  after  the  simple  ideas  of  sensation.  Of  com- 
pounding, comparing,  abstracting,  kc,  I  have  but  just  spoken, 
having  occasion  to  treat  of  them  more  at  large  in  other  places. 

§    15.  THESE  ARE  THK  BEGINNINGS  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE. 

And  thus  I  have  given  a  short,  and,  I  think,  true  history  of  the 
first  beginnings  of  human  knowledge,  whence  the  mind  has  its 
first  objects,  and  by  what  steps  it  makes  its  progress  to  the  laying 
in  and  storing  up  those  ideas,  out  of  which  is  to  be  framed  all  the 
knowledge  it  is  capable  of;  wherein  1  must  appeal  to  experience 
and  observation,  whether  I  am  in  the  right ;  the  best  way  to  come 
to  fttruth  being  to  examine  things  as  really  they  are,  and  not 
to  conclude  they  are,  as  we  fancy  of  ourselves,  or  have  been 
taught  by  others  to  imagine. 

§  16.    APPEAL  lu  EXPERIENCE. 

To  deal  truly,  this  is  the  only  way  that  I  can  discover,  whereby 
the  ideas  of  things  are  brought  into  the  understanding :  if  other 
men  have  either  innate  ideas,  or  infused  principles,  they  have 
reason  to  enjoy  them  ;  and  if  they  are  sure  of  it,  it  is  impossible 
for  others  to  deny  them  the  privilege  that  they  have  above  their 
neighbours.  I  can  speak  but  of  what  I  find  in  myself,  and  is 
agreeable  to  those  notions  ;  which,  if  we  will  examine  the  whole 
course  of  men  in  their  several  ages,  countries,  and  educations, 
seem  to  depend  on  those  foundations  which  I  have  laid,  and  to 
correspond  with  this  method  in  all  the  parts  and  degrees  thereof. 


J5S  COMPLEX  IDEAS.  [BOOK  li, 

§    17.   DARK  ROOM. 

I  pretend  not  to  teach,  but  to  inquire,  and  therefore  cannot 
but  confess  here  again,  that  external  and  internal  sensation  are 
the  only  passages  that  I  can  find  of  knowledge  to  the  understand- 
ing. These  alone,  as  far  as  I  can  discover,  are  the  windows  by 
which  light  is  let  into  this  dark  room  :  for  methinks  the  under- 
standing is  not  much  unlike  a  closet  wrholly  shut  from  light,  with 
only  some  little  opening  left,  to  let  in  external  visible  resem- 
blances, or  ideas  of  things  without :  would  the  pictures  coming 
into  such  a  dark  room  but  stay  there,  and  lie  so  orderly  as  to  be 
found  upon  occasion,  it  would  very  much  resemble  the  under- 
standing of  a  man,  in  reference  to  all  objects  of  sight  and  the 
ideas  of  them. 

These  are  my  guesses  concerning  the  means  whereby  the  un- 
derstanding comes  to  have  and  retain  simple  ideas,  and  the  modes 
of  them,  with  some  other  operations  about  them.  I  proceed 
now  to  examine  some  of  these  simple  ideas,  and  their  modes,  a 
little  more  particularly. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

OF  COMPLEX  IDEAS. 


§  1.  MADE  BY  THE  MIND  OUT  OF  SIMPLE  ONES. 

We  have  hitherto  considered  those  ideas,  in  the  reception 
whereof  the  mind  is  only  passive,  which  are  those  simple  ones 
received  from  sensation  and  reflection  before  mentioned, 
whereof  the  mind  cannot  make  one  to  itself,  nor  have  any  idea 
which  does  not  wholly  consist  of  them.  But  as  the  mind  is  wholly 
passive  in  the  reception  of  all  its  simple  ideas,  so  it  exerts  seve- 
ral acts  of  its  own.  whereby  out  of  its  simple  ideas,  as  the  mate- 
rials and  foundations  of  the.  rest,  the  other  are  framed.  The 
acts  of  the  mind,  wherein  it  exerts  its  power  over  its  simple 
ideas,  are  chiefly  these  three :  1 .  Combining  several  simple  ideas 
into  one  compound  one,  and  thus  all  complex  ideas  are  made. 
2.  The  second  is  bringing  two  ideas,  whether  simple  or  complex, 
together,  and  setting  them  by  one  another,  so  as  to  take  a  view  of 
them  at  once,  without  uniting  them  into  one  ;  by  which  way  it 
gets  all  its  ideas  of  relations.  3.  The  third  is  separating  them 
from  all  other  ideas  that  accompany  them  in  their  real  existence; 
this  is  called  abstraction:  and  thus  all  its  general  ideas  are 
made.  This  shows  man's  power,  and  its  ways  of  operation,  to 
be  much-what  the  same  in  the  material  and  intellectual  world  : 
for  the  materials  in  both  being  such  as  he  has  no  power  over, 
cither  to  make  or  destroy,  all  that  man  can  do  is  either  to  unite 
Ihcm  together,  or  (o  pet  them  by  one  another,  or  wholly  ?epa- 


(  H.   XII.  J  COMPLEX  IDEAS.  [50 

rate  them.  I  shall  here  begin  with  the  first  oi'  these,  in  the  con- 
sideration of  complex  ideas,  and  come  to  the  other  two  in  their 
due  places.  As  simple  ideas  are  observed  to  exist  in  several  com- 
binations united  together,  so  the  mind  has  a  power  to  consider 
several  of  them  united  together  as  one  idea  ;  and  that  not  only 
as  they  are  united  in  external  objects,  but  as  itself  has  joined 
them.  Ideas  thus  made  up  of  several  simple  ones  put  together, 
I  call  complex  ;  such  as  are  beauty,  gratitude,  a  man,  an  army, 
the  universe  ;  which  though  complicated  of  various  simple  ideas, 
or  complex  ideas  made  up  of  simple  ones,  yet  are,  when  the 
mind  pleases,  considered  each  by  itself  as  one  entire  thing,  and 
signified  by  one  name. 

4  2.    MADE  VOLUNTARILY. 

In  this  faculty  of  repeating  and  joining  together  its  ideas,  the 
mind  has  great  power  in  varying  and  multiplying  the  objects  of 
its  thoughts  infinitely  beyond  what  sensation  or  reflection  furnished 
it  with  ;  but  all  this  still  confined  to  those  simple  ideas  which  it 
received  from  those  two  sources,  and  which  are  the  ultimate  ma- 
terial's of  all  its  compositions :  for  simple  ideas  are  all  from 
things  themselves,  and  of  these  the  mind  can  have  no  more  nor 
other  than  what  are  suggested  to  it.  It  can  have  no  other  ideas 
of  sensible  qualities  than  what  come  from  without  by  the  senses, 
nor  any  ideas  of  other  kind  of  operations  of  a  thinking  sub- 
stance than  what  it  finds  in  itself;  but  when  it  has  once  got  these 
simple  ideas,  it  is  not  confined  barely  to  observation,  and  what 
offers  itself  from  without :  it  can,  by  its  own  power,  put  together 
those  ideas  it  has,  and  make  new  complex  ones,  which  it  never 
received  so  united. 

^§3.    ARE  EITHER  MODES,  SUBSTANCES,  OR  RELATIONS. 

Complex  ideas,  however  compounded  and  decompounded, 
though  their  number  be  infinite,  and  the  variety  endless,  where- 
with they  fill  and  entertain  the  thoughts  of  men  ;  yet,  I  think, 
they  may  be  all  reduced  under  these  three  heads  :  1.  Modes.  2, 
Substances.     3.  Relations. 

§  4.  MODES. 
First,  Modes  I  call  such  complex  ideas,  which,  however  com- 
pounded, contain  not  in  them  the  supposition  of  subsisting  by 
themselves,  but  are  considered  as  dependencies  on,  or  affections 
of  substances  :  such  as  are  ideas  signified  by  the  words  triangle, 
gratitude,  murder,  &c.  And  if  in  this  I  use  the  word  mode  in 
somewhat  a  different  sense  from  its  ordinary  signification,  1  beg 
pardon  ;  it  being  unavoidable  in  discourses,  differing  from  the 
ordinary  received  notions,  either  to  make  new  words,  or  to  use 
old  words  in  somewhat  a  new  signification  :  the  latter  whereof, 
in  our  present  ca<e,  is  perhaps  the  more  tolerable  of  the  two. 


160  COMPLEX  IDEAS.  [BOOK  H* 

§  5.    SIMPLE  AND  MIXED  MODES. 

Of  these  modes,  there  are  two  sorts  which  deserve  distinct 
consideration.  First,  there  are  some  which  arc  only  variations, 
or  different  combinations  of  the  same  simple  idea,  without  the 
mixture  of  any  other  ;  as  a  dozen  or  score  ;  which  are  nothing 
but  the  ideas  of  so  many  distinct  units  added  together  ;  and  these 
I  call  simple  modes,  as  being  contained  within  the  bounds  of  one 
simple  idea. 

Secondly,  There  are  others  compounded  of  simple  ideas  of 
several  kinds,  put  together  to  make  one  complex  one  ;  v.  g. 
beauty,  consisting  of  a  certain  composition  of  colour  and  figure, 
causing  delight  in  the  beholder ;  theft,  which,  being  the  con- 
cealed change  of  the  possession  of  any  thing,  without  the  consent 
of  the  proprietor,  contains,  as  is  visible,  a  combination  of  several 
ideas  of  several  kinds  :  and  these  I  call  mixed  modes. 

§  6.  SUBSTANCES  SINGLE  OR  COLLECTIVE. 

Secondly,  The  ideas  of  substances  are  such  combinations  of 
simple  ideas  as  are  taken  to  represent  distinct  particular  things 
subsisting  by  themselves  ;  in  which  the  supposed  or  confused 
idea  of  substance,  such  as  it  is,  is  always  the  first  and  chief. 
Thus  if  to  substance  be  joined  the  simple  idea  of  a  certain  dull 
whitish  colour,  with  certain  degrees  of  weight,  hardness,  ducti- 
lity, and  fusibility,  we  have  the  idea  of  lead,  and  a  combination 
of  the  ideas  of  a  certain  sort  of  figure  with  the  powers  of  motion. 
Thought  and  reasoning,  joined  to  substance,  make  the  ordinary 
idea  of  a  man.  Now  of  substances  also  there  are  two  sorts  of 
ideas ;  one  of  single  substances,  as  they  exist  separately,  as  of  a 
man,  or  a  sheep  ;  the  other  of  several  of  those  put  together,  as  an 
army  of  men,  or  flock  of  sheep  ;  which  collective  ideas  of  seve- 
ral substances  thus  put  together,  are  as  much  each  of  them  one 
single  idea,  as  that  of  a  man,  or  a  unit. 

§  7.    RELATION. 

Thirdly,  the  last  sort  of  complex  ideas  is  that  we  call  rela- 
tion, which  consists  in  the  consideration  and  comparing  one 
idea  with  another.  Of  these  several  kinds  we  shall  treat  in 
their  order. 

§  8.    THE  ABSTRUSEST  IDEAS  FROM  THE  TWO  SOURCES. 

If  we  trace  the  progress  of  our  minds,  and  with  attention  ob- 
serve how  it  repeats,  adds  together,  and  unites  its  simple  ideas 
received  from  sensation  or  reflection,  it  will  lead  us  farther 
than  at  first  perhaps  we  should  have  imagined.  And  I  be- 
lieve we  shall  find,  if  we  warily  observe  the  originals  of  our 
notions,  that  even  the  most  abstruse  ideas,  how  remote  soever 
they  may  seem  from  sense,  or  from  any  operations  of  our  own 
minds,  are  yet  only  such  as  the  understanding  frames  to  itself  by 


(,U.   XIII. J  SIMPLE  MODES  OF  SPACE.  161 

repeating  and  joining  together  ideas,  that  it  had  either  from  ob- 
jects of  sense,  or  from  its  own  operations  about  them  :  so  that 
those  even  large  and  abstract  ideas  are  derived  from  sensation  or 
reflection,  being  no  other  than  what  the  mind,  by  the  ordinary 
use  of  its  own  faculties,  employed  about  ideas  received  from 
objects  of  sense,  or  from  the  operations  it  observes  in  itself  about 
them,  may  and  does  attain  unto.  This  I  shall  endeavour  to 
show  in  the  ideas  we  have  of  space,  time,  and  infinity,  and  some 
few  others,  that  seem  the  most  remote  from  those  originals. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

OF  SIMPLE  xMODKS,  AND  FIRST  OF  THE  S1MPLF  MODES 
OF  SPACE. 

§   1.    SIMPLE  MODES. 

Though  in  the  foregoing  part  I  have  often  mentioned  simple 
ideas,  which  are  truly  the  materials  of  all  our  knowledge  ;  yet 
having  treated  of  them  there  rather  in  the  way  that  they  come 
into  the  mind,  than  as  distinguished  from  others  more  compound- 
ed, it  will  not  be  perhaps  amiss  to  take  a  view  of  some  of  them 
again  under  this  consideration,  and  examine  those  different 
modifications  of  the  same  idea  :  which  the  mind  either  finds  in 
things  existing,  or  is  able  to  make  within  itself,  without  the  help 
of  any  extrinsical  object,  or  any  foreign  suggestion. 

Those  modifications  of  any  one  simple  idea,  (which,  as  has 
been  said,  I  call  simple  modes)  are  as  perfectly  different  and 
distinct  ideas  in  the  mind  as  those  of  the  greatest  distance  or 
contrariety.  For  the  idea  of  two  is  as  distinct  from  that  of  one. 
as  blueness  from  heat,  or  either  of  them  from  any  number : 
and  yet  it  is  made  up  only  of  that  simple  idea  of  a  unit  re- 
peated ;  and  repetitions  of  this  kind  joined  together  make  those 
distinct  simple  modes,  of  a  dozen,  a  gross,  a  million. 

0*  2.    IDEA  OF  SPACE. 

I  shall  begin  with  the  simple  idea  of  space.  I  have  showed 
above,  chap.  4,  that  we  get  the  idea  of  space  both  by  our  sight 
and  touch ;  which  I  think  is  so  evident,  that  it  would  be  as  need- 
less to  go  to  prove  that  men  perceive,  by  their  sight,  a  distance 
between  bodies  of  different  colours,  or  between  the  parts  of  the 
same  body,  as  that  they  see  colours  themselves;  nor  is  it  less 
obvious  that  they  can  do  so  in  the  dark  by  feeling  and  touch. 

8  I'.    SPACE  AND  EXTENSION. 

This  space,  considered  barely  in  length  between  any  two 
beings,  without  considering  any  thing  else  between  them,  is 
Vol.  I.  21 


1'fiJJ  SIMPLE  MODES  OF  SPACE.  [BOOK  If 

called  distance  ;  if  considered  in  length,  breadth,  and  thickness, 
I  think  it  may  be  called  capacity.  The  term  extension  is  usually 
applied  to  it  in  what  manner  soever  considered. 

§  4.    IMMENSITY. 

Each  different  distance  is  a  different  modification  of  space  ; 
and  each  idea  of  any  different  distance  or  space  is  a  simple 
mode  of  this  idea.  Men  for  the  use  and  by  the  custom  of 
measuring,  settle  in  their  minds  the  ideas  of  certain  stated 
lengths,"  such  as  are  an  inch,  foot,  yard,  fathom,  mile,  diameter 
of  the  earth,  &c.  which  are  so  many  distinct  ideas  made  up  only 
of  space*  When  any  such  stated  lengths  or  measures  of  space 
are  made  familiar  to  men's  thoughts,  they  can  in  their  minds 
repeat  them  as  often  as  they  will,  without  mixing  or  joining  to 
them  the  idea  of  body  or  any  thing  else  ;  and  frame  to  themselves 
the  ideas  of  long,  square,  or  cubic,  {eet,  yards,  or  fathoms,  here 
among  the  bodies  of  the  universe,  or  else  beyond  the  utmost 
bounds  of  all  bodies  ;  and  by  adding  these  still  one  to  another, 
enlarge  their  ideas  of  space  as  much  as  they  please.  The 
power  of  repeating  or  doubling  any  idea  we  have  of  any  distance, 
and  adding  it  to  the  former  as  often  as  we  will,  without  being 
ever  able  to  come  to  any  stop  or  stint,  let  us  enlarge  it  as  much 
as  we  will,  is  that  which  gives  us  the  idea  of  immensity. 

§  5.    FIGURE. 

There  is  another  modification  of  this  idea,  which  is  nothing 
but  the  relation  which  the  parts  of  the  termination  of  extension 
or  circumscribed  space  have  among  themselves.  This  the 
touch  discovers  in  sensible  bodies,  whose  extremities  come 
within  our  reach ;  and  the  eye  takes  both  from  bodies  and 
colours,  whose  boundaries  are  within  its  view :  where  observing 
how  the  extremities  terminate  either  in  straight  lines,  which  meet 
at  discernible  angles,  or  in  crooked  lines,  wherein  no  angles  can 
be  perceived,  by  considering  these  as  they  relate  to  one  another, 
in  all  parts  of  the  extremities  of  any  body  or  space,  it  has  that 
idea  we  call  figure,  which  affords  to  the  mind  infinite  variety. 
For  besides  the  vast  number  of  different  figures  that  do  really 
exist  in  the  coherent  masses  of  matter,  the  stock  that  the  mind 
has  in  its  power  by  varying  the  idea  of  space,  and  thereby  ma- 
king still  new  compositions,  by  repeating  its  own  ideas,  and 
joining  them  as  it  pleases,  is  perfectly  inexhaustible  ;  and  so  it 
can  multiply  figures  in  infinitum. 

.   §  6.    FIGURE. 

For  the  mind  having  a  power  to  repeat  the  idea  01  any  length 
directly  stretched  out,  and  join  it  to  another  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, which  is  to  double  the  length  of  that  straight  line,  or  else 
join  another  with  what  inclination  it  thinks  fit,  and  so  make  what 
sort  of  angle  it  pleases :  and  being  able  also  to  shorten  any  line 


<H.   XIII.]  SIMPLE  MODES.  OF  SPACE.  168 

it  imagines,  by  taking  from  it  one-half,  or  one-fourth,  or  what 
part  it  pleases,  without  being  able  to  come  to  an  end  of  any  such 
divisions,  it  can  make  an  angle  of  any  bigness  ;  so  also  the  lines 
that  are  its  sides,  of  what  length  it  pleases;  with  joining  again 
to  other  lines  of  different  lengths,  and  at  different  angles,  till  it 
lias  wholly  enclosed  any  space,  it  is  evident  that  it  can  multiply 
figures  both  in  their  shape  and  capacity,  in  infinitum  ;  all  which 
are  but  so  many  different  simple  modes  of  spare. 

The  same  that  it  can  do  with  straight  lines,  it  can  also  do  with 
crooked,  or  crooked  and  straight  together  ;  and  the  same  it  can 
do  in  lines  it  can  also  in  superficies:  by  which  we  may  be  led 
into  farther  thoughts  of  the  endless  variety  of  figures  that  the 
mind  has  a  power  to  make,  and  thereby  to  multiply  the  simple 
modes  of  space. 

6    7.     PLACE. 

Another  idea  coming  under  this  head,  and  belonging  to  this 
tribe,  is  that  we  call  place.  As  in  simple  space  we  consider  the 
relation  of  distance  between  any  two  bodies  or  points ;  so  in  our 
idea  of  place  we  consider  the  relation  of  distance  betwixt  any 
thing  and  any  two  or  more  points,  which  are  considered  as  keep- 
ing the  same  distance  one  with  another,  and  so  considered  as  at 
rest :  for  when  we  find  any  thing  at  the  same  distance  now  which 
it  was  yesterday,  from  any  two  or  more  points,  which  have  not 
since  changed  their  distance  one  with  another,  and  with  which 
we  then  compared  it,  we  say  it  hath  kept  the  same  place  ;  but  if 
it  hath  sensibly  altered  its  distance  with  either  of  those  points, 
we  say  it  hath  changed  its  place  :  though  vulgarly  speaking,  in 
the  common  notion  of  place,  we  do  not  always  exactly  observe 
the  distance  from  these  precise  points,  but  from  larger  portions 
of  sensible  objects,  to  which  we  consider  the  thing  placed  to 
bear  relation,  and  its  distance  from  which  we  have  some  reason 
-to  observe. 

Thus  a  company  of  chess-men  standing  on  the  same  squares 
of  the  chess-board  where  we  left  them,  we  say  they  are  all  in  the 
same  place,  or  unmoved  ;  though  perhaps  the  chess-board  hath 
been  in  the  mean  time  carried  out  of  one  room  into  another ; 
because  we  compared  them  only  to  the  parts  of  the  chess-board 
which  keep  the  same  distance  one  with  another.  The  chess- 
board, we  also  say,  is  in  the  same  place  it  was,  if  it  remain  in 
the  same  part  of  the  cabin,  though  perhaps  the  ship  which  it  is  in 
sails  all  the  while  :  and  the  ship  is  said  to  be  in  the  same  place, 
supposing  it  kept  the  same  distance  with  the  parts  of  the  neigh- 
bouring land,  though  perhaps  the  earth  hath  turned  round:  and 
so  both  chess-men,  and  board,  and  ship,  have  every  one  changed 
place,  in  respect  of  remoter  bodies,  which  have  kept  the  same 
distance  one  with  another.  But  yet  the  distance  from  certain 
jmrts  of  the  board  being  that  which  determines  the  place  of  the 
jchess-ttien  :   and  the  distance  from  the  fixed  parts  offline  cabin. 


164  SIMPLE  MODES  OF  SPACE.  [.BOOJCH, 

(with  which  we  made  the  comparison)  being  that  wrhich  deter- 
mined the  place  of  the  chess-board  ;  and  the  fixed  parts  of  the 
earth  that  by  which  we  determined  the  place  of  the  ship;  these 
things  may  be  said  to  be  in  the  same  place  in  those  respects  : 
though  their  distance  from  some  other  things,  which  in  this  mat- 
ter we  did  not  consider,  being  varied,  they  have  undoubtedly 
changed  place  in  that  respect :  and  we  ourselves  shall  think  so 
when  we  have  occasion  to  compare  them  with  those  other. 

§9. 

But  this  modification  of  distance  we  call  place  being  made  by 
men  for  their  common  use,  that  by  it  they  might  be  able  to  de- 
sign the  particular  position  of  things,  where  they  had  occasion 
for  such  designation  ;  men  consider  and  determine  of  this  place 
by  reference  to  those  adjacent  things  which  best  served  to  their 
present  purpose,  without  considering  other  things,  which  to  an- 
swer another  purpose  would  better  determine  the  place  of  the 
same  thing.  Thus,  in  the  chess-board,  the  use  of  the  designa- 
tion of  the  place  of  each  chess-man  being  determined  only  with- 
in that  chequered  piece  of  wood,  it  would  cross  that  purpose  to 
measure  it  by  any  thing  else  :  but  when  these  very  chess-men  are 
put  up  in  a  bag,  if  any  one  should  ask  where  the  black  king  is, 
it  would  be  proper  to  determine  the  place  by  the  parts  of  the 
room  it  was  in,  and  not  by  the  chess-board  ;  there  being  another 
use  of  designing  the  place  it  is  now  in,  than  when  in  play  it  was 
on  the  chess-board,  and  so  must  be  determined  by  other  bodies. 
So  if  any  one  should  ask,  in  what  place  are  the  verses  which 
report  the  story  of  Nisus  and  Euryalus,  it  would  be  very  impro- 
per to  determine  this  place  by  saying,  they  were  in  such  a  part 
of  the  earth,  or  in  Bodley's  library :  but  the  right  designation 
of  the  place  would  be  by  the  parts  of  Virgil's  works  ;  and  the 
proper  answer  would  be,  that  these  verses  were  about  the  mid- 
dle of  the  ninth  book  of  his  iEneid  ;  and  that  they  have  been 
■always  constantly  in  the  same  place  ever  since  Virgil  was  print- 
ed ;  which  is  true,  though  the  book  itself  hath  moved  a  thousand 
times  ;  the  use  of  the  idea  of  place  here  being  to  know  in  what 
part  of  the  book  that  story  is,  that  so  upon  occasion  we  may 
know  where  to  find  it,  and  have  recourse  to  it  for  use. 

§  10.   PLACE. 

That.our  idea  of  place  is  nothing  else  but  such  a  relative  po- 
sition of  any  thing,  as  T  have  before  mentioned,  I  think  is  plain, 
and  will  be  easily  admitted,  when  we  consider  that  we  can  have 
no  idea  of  the  place  of  the  universe,  though  we  can  of  all  the 
parts  of  it ;  because  beyond  that  we  have  not  the  idea  of  any 
fixed,  distinct,  particular  beings,  in  reference  to  which  we  can 
imagine  it  to  have  any  relation  of  distance  ;  but  all  beyond  it  is 
one  uniform  space  or  expansion,  wherein  the  mind  finds  no 
variety,  no  marks.     For  to  say  that  the  world  is  somewhere, 


CII.  XIII.]  SIMPLE  MODES  OF  SPACE.  165 

means  no  more  than  that  it  does  exist :  this,  though  a  phrase 
borrowed  from  place,  signifying  only  its  existence,  not  location  ; 
and  when  one  can  tind  out  and  frame  in  his  mind,  clearly  and 
distinctly,  the  place  of  the  universe,  he  will  be  able  to  tell  us 
whether  it  moves  or  stands  still  in  the  undistinguishable  inane  of 
infinite  space  :  though  it  be  true  that  the  word  place  has  some- 
times a  more  confused  sense,  and  stands  for  that  space  which 
any  body  takes  up  ;  and  so  the  universe  is  in  a  place.  The  idea 
therefore  of  place  we  have  by  the  same  means  that  we  get  the 
idea  of  space  (whereof  this  is  but  a  particular  limited  conside- 
ration,) viz.  by  our  sight  and  touch ;  by  either  of  which  we 
receive  into  our  minds  the  ideas  of  extension  or  distance. 

§  11.  EXTENSION  AND  BODY  NOT  THE  SAME. 

There  are  some  that  would  persuade  us  that  body  and  exten- 
sion are  the  same  thing  :  who  either  change  the  signification  of 
words,  which  I  would  not  suspect  them  of,  they  having  so  severely 
condemned  the  philosophy  of  others,  because  it  hath  been  too 
much  placed  in  the  uncertain  meaning  or  deceitful  obscurity  of 
doubtful  or  insignificant  terms.  If  therefore  they  mean  by  body 
and  extension  the  same  that  other  people  do,  viz.  by  body,  some- 
thing that  is  solid  and  extended,  whose  parts  are  separable  and 
moveable  different  ways  ;  and  by  extension  only  the  space  that 
lies  between  the  extremities  of  those  solid  coherent  parts,  and 
■which  is  possessed  by  them  ;  they  confound  very  different  ideas 
one  with  another.  For  1  appeal  to  every  man's  own  thoughts, 
whether  the  idea  of  space  be  not  as  distinct  from  that  of  solidity 
as  it  is  from  the  idea  of  scarlet  colour  ?  It  is  true,  solidity  can- 
not exist  without  extension,  neither  can  scarlet  colour  exist 
without  extension  ;  but  this  hinders  not  but  that  they  are  distinct 
ideas.  Many  ideas  require  others  as  necessary  to  their  existence 
or  conception,  which  yet  are  very  distinct  ideas.  Motion  can 
neither  be,  nor  be  conceived  without  space ;  and  yet  motion  is  not 
space,  nor  space  motion  :  space  can  exist  without  it,  and  they 
are  very  distinct  ideas  ;  and  so  I  think  are  those  of  space  and 
solidity.  Solidity  is  so  inseparable  an  idea  from  body,  that 
upon  that  depends  its  filling  of  space,  its  contact,  impulse,  and 
communication  of  motion  upon  impulse.  And  if  it  be  a  reason 
to  prove  that  spirit  is  different  from  body,  because  thinking  in- 
cludes not  the  idea  of  extension  in  it,  the  same  reason  will  be  as 
valid,  I  suppose,  to  prove  that  space  is  not  body  because  it  in- 
cludes not  the  idea  of  solidity  in  it :  space  and  solidity  being  as 
•  listinct  ideas  as  thinking  and  extension,  and  as  wholly  separable 
in  the  mind  one  from  another.  Body,  then,  and  extension,  it  is 
evident,  are  two  distinct  ideas.     For, 

§  12. 
First,  Extension  includes  no  solidity,  nor  resistance  to  th< 
motion  of  bod  v.  as  bodv  does. 


166  SIMPLE  MODES  OF  SPACE.  [BOOK  II-. 

§13. 

Secondly,  The  parts  of  pure  space  are  inseparable  one  from 
the  other ;  so  that  the  continuity  cannot  be  separated,  neither 
really  nor  mentally.  For  1  demand  of  any  one  to  remove  any 
part  of  it  from  another,  with  which  it  is  continued,  even  so  much 
as  in  thought.  To  divide  and  separate  actually,  is,  as  I  think, 
by  removing  the  parts  one  from  another,  to  make  two  superficies, 
where  before  there  was  a  continuity ;  and  to  divide  mentally,  is 
to  make  in  the  mind  two  superficies,  where  before  there  was 
a  continuity,  and  consider  them  as  removed  one  from  the  other  : 
which  can  only  be  done  in  things  considered  by  the  mind  as  ca- 
pable of  being  separated,  and  by  separation,  of  acquiring  new 
distinct  superficies,  which  they  then  have  not,  but  are  capable  of: 
but  neither  of  these  ways  of  separation,  whether  real  or  mental. 
is,  as  I  think,  compatible  to  pure  space. 

It  is  true,  a  man  may  consider  so  much  of  such  a  space  as  is 
answerable  or  commensurate  to  a  foot,  without  considering  the 
rest ;  which  is  indeed  a  partial  consideration,  but  not  so  much  as 
mental  separation  or  division  ;  since  a  man  can  no  more  mentally 
divide,  without  considering  two  superficies  separate  one  from  the 
other,  than  he  can  actually  divide  without  making  two  superficies 
disjoined  one  from  the  other  :  but  a  partial  consideration  is  not 
separating.  A  man  may  consider  light  in  the  sun,  without  its 
heat ;  or  mobility  in  body,  without  its  extension,  without  thinking 
of  their  separation.  One  is  only  a  partial  consideration,  termi- 
nating in  one  alone  ;  and  the  other  is  a  consideration  of  both,  as 
existing  separately. 

§  14. 

Thirdly,  The  parts  of  pure  space  are  immoveable,  which  fol- 
lows from  their  inseparability  ;  motion  being  nothing  but  change 
of  distance  between  any  two  things  :  but  this  cannot  be  between 
parts  that  are  inseparable,  which  therefore  must  needs  be  at  per- 
petual rest  one  among  another. 

Thus  the  determined  idea  of  simple  space  distinguishes  it 
plainly  and  sufficiently  from  body ;  since  its  parts  are  inseparable, 
immoveable,  and  without  resistance  to  the  motion  of  body. 

<$  15.    THE  DEFINITION  OF  EXTENSION  EXPLAINS  IT  NOT. 

If  any  one  ask  me  what  this  space  I  speak  of  is  ?  I  will  tell  him. 
when  he  tells  ine  what  his  extension  is.  For  to  say,  as  is  usually 
done,  that  extension  is  to  have  partes  extra  partes,  is  to  say  only 
that  extension  is  extension  :  for  what  am  I  the  better  informed 
in  the  nature  of  extension  when  I  am  told,  that  extension  is  to 
have  parts  that  are  extended  exterior  to  parts  that  are  extended, 
L  e.  extension  consists  of  extended  parts  ?  As  if  one  asking 
what  a  fibre  was  ?  I  should  answer  him,  that  it  was  a  thing  made 
up  of  several  fibres  :  would  he  thereby  be  enabled  to  understand 


CH.  XIII.]  SIMPLE  MODES  OF  SPACE.  167 

what  a  fibre  was  better  than  he  did  before  ?  Or  rather  would  he 
not  have  reason  to  think  that  my  design  was  to  make  sport  with 
him,  rather  than  seriously  to  instruct  him  ? 

§   16.    DIVISION  OF  BEINGS  INTO  BODIES  AND  SPIRITS  PROVES  NOT  SPACE 
AND  BODY  THE  SAME. 

Those  who  contend  that  space  and  body  are  the  same,  bring 
This  dilemma,  either  this  space  is  something  or  nothing :  if  nothing 
be  between  two  bodies,  they  must  necessarily  touch  ;  if  it  be 
allowed  to  be  something,  they  ask  whether  it  be  body  or  spirit  ? 
To  which  I  answer  by  another  question,  Who  told  them  that  there 
was  or  could  be  nothing  but  solid  beings  which  could  not  think, 
and  thinking  beings,  that  were  not  extended  ?  which  is  all  they 
mean  by  the  terms  body  and  spirit. 

">    17.    SUBSTANCE  WHICH  WE   KNOW  NOT,  NO  PROOF  AGAINST  SPACE 
WITHOUT  BODY. 

If  it  be  demanded  (as  usually  it  is)  whether  this  space,  void  of 
body,  be  substance  or  accident,  I  shall  readily  answer,  I  know 
not,  nor  shall  be  ashamed  to  own  my  ignorance,  till  they  that 
ask  show  me  a  clear  distinct  idea  of  substance. 

§  1". 
I  endeavour,  as  much  as  I  can,  to  deliver  myself  from  those 
fallacies  which  we  are  apt  to  put  upon  ourselves  by  taking  words 
for  things.  It  helps  not  our  ignorance  to  feign  a  knowledge  where 
we  have  none,  by  making  a  noise  with  sounds,  without  clear  and 
distinct  significations.  Names  made  at  pleasure  neither  alter  the 
nature  of  things,  nor  make  us  understand  them,  but  as  they  are 
j-igns  of,  and  stand  for  determined  ideas  :  and  I  desire  those  who 
lay  so  much  stress  on  the  sound  of  these  two  syllables,  substance, 
to  consider  whether  applying  it,  as  they  do,  to  the  infinite,  incom- 
prehensible God,  to  finite  spirit,  and  to  body,  it  be  in  the  same 
sense  ;  and  whether  it  stands  for  the  same  idea,  when  each  of 
those  three  so  different  beings  are  called  substances.  If  so, 
whether  it  will  thence  follow  that  God,  spirits,  and  body,  agree- 
ing in  the  same  common  nature  of  substance,  differ  not  any 
otherwise  than  in  a  bare  different  modification  of  that  substance  ; 
as  a  tree  and  a  pebble,  being  in  the  same  sense  body,  and  agree- 
ing in  the  common  nature  of  body,  differ  only  in  the  bare  modi- 
fication of  that  common  matter;  which  will  be  a  very  harsh 
doctrine.  If  they  say  that  they  apply  it  to  God,  finite  spirit,  and 
matter,  in  three  different  significations  ;  and  that  it  stands  for  one 
idea,  when  God  is  said  to  be  a  substance  ;  for  another,  when  the 
soul  is  called  substance  ;  and  for  a  third,  when  a  body  is  called 
so:  if  the  name  substance  stands  for  three  several  distinct  ideas, 
they  would  do  well  to  make  known  those  distinct  ideas,  or  at  least 
to  give  three  distinct  names  to  them,  to  prevent,  in  so  important 
a  notion,  the  confusion  and  errors  that  will  naturally  follow  from 


lt>8  SIMPLE  MODES  OF  SPACE.  [BOOK  II. 

the  promiscuous  use  of  so  doubtful  a  term  ;  which  is  so  far  from 
being  suspected  to  have  three  distinct,  that  in  ordinary  use  it  has 
scarce  one  clear  distinct  signification;  and  if  they  can  thus  make 
three  distinct  ideas  of  substance,  what  hinders  why  another  may 
not  make  a  fourth  ? 

§  19.  SUBSTANCE  AND  ACCIDENTS,  OF  LITTLE  USE  IN  PHILOSOPHY. 

They  who  first  ran  into  the  notion  of  accidents,  as  a  sort  of 
real  beings  that  needed  something  to  inhere  in,  were  forced  to 
find  out  the  word  substance  to  support  them.  Had  the  poor 
Indian  philosopher  (who  imagined  that  the  earth  also  wanted 
something  to  bear  it  up)  but  thought  of  this  word,  substance,  he 
needed  not  to  have  been  at  the  trouble  to  find  an  elephant  to 
support  it,  and  a  tortoise  to  support  his  elephant :  the  word  sub- 
stance would  have  done  it  effectually.  And  he  that  inquired 
might  have  taken  it  for  as  good  an  answer  from  an  Indian  philo- 
sopher, that  substance,  without  knowing  what  it  is,  is  that  which 
supports  the  earth,  as  we  take  it  for  a  sufficient  answer,  and  good 
doctrine  from  our  European  philosophers,  that  substance,  without 
knowing  what  it  is,  is  that  which  supports  accidents.  So  that  of 
substance  we  have  no  idea  of  what  it  is,  but  only  a  confused  ob- 
scure one  of  what  it  does. 

§20. 

Whatever  a  learned  man  may  do  here,  an  intelligent  American, 
who  inquired  into  the  nature  of  things,  would  scarce  take  it  for 
a  satisfactory  account,  if,  desiring  to  learn  our  architecture,  he 
should  be  told  that  a  pillar  was  a  thing  supported  by  a  basis  and 
a  basis  something  that  supported  a  pillar.  Would  he  not  think 
himself  mocked,  instead  of  taught,  with  such  an  account  as  this  ? 
And  a  stranger  to  them  would  be  very  liberally  instructed  in  the 
nature  of  books,  and  the  things  they  contained,  if  he  should  be 
told,  that  all  learned  books  consisted  of  paper  and  letters,  and 
that  letters  were  things  inhering  in  paper,  and  paper  a  thing  that 
held  forth  letters  ;  a  notable  way  of  having  clear  ideas  of  letters 
and  paper  !  But  were  the  Latin  words  inhoerentia  and  substantia 
put  into  the  plain  English  ones  that  answer  them,  and  were  called 
.sticking  on  and  under  propping,  they  would  better  discover  to  us 
the  very  great  clearness  there  is  in  the  doctrine  of  substance  and 
accidents,  and  show  of  what  use  they  are  in  deciding  of  questions 
in  philosophy. 

§  21.  A  VACUUM  BEYOND  THE  UTMOST  BOUNDS  OF  BODY. 

But  to  return  to  our  idea  of  space.  If  body  be  not  supposed 
infinite,  which  I  think  no  one  will  affirm,  I  would  ask,  Whether, 
if  God  placed  a  man  at  the  extremity  of  corporeal  beings,  he 
could  not  stretch  his  hand  beyond  his  body  ?  If  he  could,  then 
he  would  put  his  arm  where  there  was  before  space  without 
body,  and  if  there  he  spread  his  fingers,  there  would  still  be  spaa1 


CH.    XZl/.j  SIMPLE    MODES  OF  SI'ACK.  1  G'U 

between  them  without  body.  If  he  could  not  stretch  out  his 
hand,  it  must  be  because  of  some  external  hinderance ;  (for  we 
suppose  him  alive,  with  such  a  power  of  moving  the  parts  of  his 
body  that  he  hath  now,  which  is  not  in  itself  impossible,  if  God 
so  pleased  to  have  it ;  or  at  least  it  is  not  impossible  for  God  so 
to  move  him :)  and  then  I  ask,  whether  that  which  hinders  his 
hand  from  moving  outwards  be  substance  or  accident,  something 
or  nothing?  And  when  they  have  resolved  that,  they  will  be  able 
to  resolve  themselves  what  that  is,  which  is  or  may  be  between 
two  bodies  at  a  distance,  that  is  not  body,  and  has  no  solidity. 
In  the  mean  time,  the  argument  is  at  least  as  good,  that  where 
nothing  hinders  (as  beyond  the  utmost  bounds  of  all  bodies)  a 
body  put  in  motion  may  move  on  :  as  where  there  is  nothing 
between,  there  two  bodies  must  necessarily  touch:  for  pure  space 
between  is  sufficient  to  take  away  the  necessity  of  mutual  con- 
tact ;  but  bare  space  in  the  way  is  not  sufficient  to  stop  motion. 
The  truth  is,  these  men  must  either  own  that  they  think  body 
infinite,  though  they  are  loath  to  speak  it  out,  or  else  affirm  that 
space  is  not  body.  For  I  would  fain  meet  with  that  thinking 
man,  that  can  in  his  thoughts  set  any  bounds  to  space  more  than 
he  can  to  duration,  or  by  thinking  hope  to  arrive  at  the  end  of 
either  :  and,  therefore,  if  his  idea  of  eternity  be  infinite,  so  is  his 
idea  of  immensity  ;  they  arc  both  finite  or  infinite  alike. 

§  22.    THE   POWKR.  OK   ANNIHILATION  PROVES   A  VACUUM. 

Farther,  those  who  assert  the  impossibility  of  space  existing 
without  matter,  must  not  only  make  body  infinite,  but  must  als^ 
depy  a  power  in  God  to  annihilate  any  part  of  matter.  No  one, 
I  suppose,  will  deny  that  God  can  put  an  end  to  all  motion  that 
is  in  matter,  and  fix  all  the  bodies  of  the  universe  in  a  perfect 
quiet  and  rest,  and  continue  them  so  long  as  he  pleases.  Who- 
ever then  will  allow  that  God  can,  during  such  a  general  rest,  an- 
nihilate either  this  book,  or  the  body  of  him  that  reads  it,  must 
necessarily  admit  the  possibility  of  a  vacuum  :  for  it  is  evident 
that  the  space  that  was  filled  by  the  parts  of  the  annihilated 
body  will  still  remain,  and  be  a  space  without  body  :  for  the  cir- 
cumambient bodies  being  in  perfect  rest,  are  a  wall  of  adamant, 
and  in  that  state  make  it  a  perfect  impossibility  for  any  other 
body  to  get  into  that  space.  And  indeed  the  necessary  motion 
of  one  particle  of  matter  into  the  place  from  whence  another 
particle  of  matter  is  removed,  is  but  a  consequence  from  the  sup- 
position of  plenitude ;  which  will  therefore  need  some  better 
proof  than  a  supposed  matter  of  fact,,  which  experiment  can 
never  make  out:  our  own  clear  and  distinct  ideas  plainly  satisfy- 
ing us  that  there  is  no  necessary  connexion  between  space  and 
Solidity,  since  we  can  conceive  the  one  without  the  other. 
And  those  who  dispute  for  or  against  a  vacuum,  do  thereby  con- 
fess they  have  distinct  ideas  of  vacuum  and  plenum,  i.  e.  thai 
they  have  an  idea  of  extension  void  of  solidit-v,  tljoueh  tliev  dem 

Vol.  r. 


1/0  SIMPLE  MODES  OF  SPACE.  [BOOK  II- 

its  existence,  or  else  they  dispute  about  nothing  at  all.  For  they 
who  so  much  alter  the  signification  of  words  as  to  call  extension 
hody,  and  consequently  make  the  whole  essence  of  body  to  be- 
nothing  but  pure  extension  without  solidity,  must  talk  absurdly 
whenever  they  speak  of  vacuum,  since  it  is  impossible  for  exten- 
sion to  be  without  extension  :  for  vacuum,  whether  we  affirm  or 
deny  its  existence,  signifies  space  without  body,  whose  very  ex- 
istence no  one  can  deny  to  be  possible,  who  will  not  make 
matter  infinite,  and  take  from  God  a  power  to  annihilate  any 
particle  of  it. 

§  23.  MOTION  PROVES  A  VACUUM. 

But  not  to  go  so  far  as  beyond  the  utmost  bounds  of  body  in 
the  universe,  nor  appeal  to  God's  omnipotency  to  find  a  vacuum, 
the  motion  of  bodies  that  are  in  our  view  and  neighbourhood 
seems  to  me  plainly  to  evince  it.  For  I  desire  any  one  so  to 
divide  a  solid  body,  of  any  dimension  he  pleases,  as  to  make  it 
possible  for  the  solid  parts  to  move  up  and  down  freely  every 
way  within  the  bounds  of  that  superficies,  if  there  be  not  left  in 
it  a  void  space  as  big  as  the  least  part  into  which  he  has  divided 
the  said  solid  body.  And  if  where  the  least  particle  of  the  body 
divided  is  as  big  as  a  mustard-seed,  a  void  space  equal  to  the 
bulk  of  a  mustard-seed  be  requisite  to  make  room  for  the  free 
motion  of  the  parts  of  the  divided  body  within  the  bounds  of  its 
superficies,  where  the  particles  of  matter  are  100,000,000  less 
than  a  mustard-seed,  there  must  also  be  a  space  void  of  solid 
matter  as  big  as  100,000,000  part  of  a  mustard-seed;  for  if  it 
hold  in  one  it  will  hold  in  the  other,  and  so  on  in  infinitum*  And 
let  this  void  space  be  as  little  as  it  will,  it  destroys  the  hypothesis 
of  plentitude  :  for  if  there  can  be  a  space  void  of  body  equal  to 
the  smallest  separate  particle  of  matter  now  existing  in  nature, 
it  is  still  space  without  body,  and  makes  as  great  a  difference 
between  space  and  body,  as  if  it  were  *«y*  yprtut,  a  distance  as 
wide  as  any  in  nature.  And  therefore  if  we  suppose  not  the 
void  space  necessary  to  motion  equal  to  the  least  parcel  of  the 
divided  solid  matter,  but  to  TV  or  ToV o  °f  it,  the  same  consequence 
will  also  follow  of  space  without  matter. 

§  24.    THE  IDEAS  OF  SPACE  AND  BODY  DISTINCT. 

But  the  question  being  here,  "whether  the  idea  of  space  or 
extension  be  the  same  with  the  idea  of  body,"  it  is  not  neces- 
sary to  prove  the  real  existence  of  a  vacuum,  but  the  idea  of  it : 
which  it  is  plain  men  have,  when  they  inquire  and  dispute 
whether  there  be  a  vacuum  or  no  ;  for  if  they  had  not  the  idea 
of  space  without  body,  they  could  not  make  a  question  about  its 
existence  ;  and  if  their  idea  of  body  did  not  include  in  it  some- 
thing more  than  the  bare  idea  of  space,  they  could  have  no 
doubt  about  the  plentitude  of  the  world  ;  and  it  would  be  as 
absurd  to  demand  whether  there  were  space  without  body,  as 


CH.  XIII.  |  SIMPLE  MODES  OF  SPACE..  171 

whether  there  were  space  without  space,  or  body  without  body, 
since  these  were  but  different  names  of  the  same  idea. 

6  25.  EXTENSION  EKING  INSEPARABLE  FROM  BODY,  PROVES  IT  NOT  THE 

SAME. 

It  is  true,  the  idea  of  extension  joins  itself  so  inseparably 
with  all  visible  and  most  tangible  qualities,  that  it  suffers  us  to 
see  no  one,  or  feel  very  [ew  external  objects,  without  taking  in 
impressions  of  extension  too.  This  readiness  of  extension  to 
make  itself  be  taken  notice  of  so  constantly  with  other  ideas  has 
been  the  occasion,  I  guess,  that  some  have  made  the  whole  es- 
sence of  body  to  consist  in  extension  ;  which  is  not  much  to  be 
wondered  at,  since  some  have  had  their  minds,  by  their  eyes  and 
touch  (the  busiest  of  all  our  senses,)  so  filled  with  the  idea  of 
extension,  and  as  it  were  wholly  possessed  with  it,  that  they 
allowed  no  existence  to  any  thing  that  had  not  extension.  1  shall 
not  now  argue  with  those  men  who  take  the  measure  and  possi- 
bility of  all  being  only  from  their  narrow  and  gross  imaginations  ; 
but  having  here  to  do  only  with  those  who  conclude  the  essence 
of  body  to  be  extension,  because  they  say  they  cannot  imagine 
any  sensible  quality  of  any  body  without  extension,  I  shall  de- 
sire them  to  consider,  that  had  they  reflected  on  their  ideas  of 
tastes  and  smells  as  much  as  on  those  of  sight  and  touch  ;  nay, 
had  they  examined  their  ideas  of  hunger  and  thirst,  and  several 
other  pains,  they  would  have  found  that  they  included  in  them 
no  idea  of  extension  at  all;  which  is  but  an  affection  of  body,  as 
well  as  the  rest,  discoverable  by  our  senses,  which  are  Scarce 
acute  enough  to  look  into  the  pure  essences  of  things. 

§26. 
If  those  ideas  which  are  constantly  joined  to  all  others  must 
therefore  be  concluded  to  be  the  essence  of  those  things  which 
have  constantly  those  ideas  joined  to  them,  and  arc  inseparable 
from  them,  then  unity  is  without  doubt  the  essence  of  every 
thing:  for  there  is  not  any  object  of  sensation  or  reflection  which 
does  not  carry  with  it  the  idea  of  one ;  but  the  weakness  of  this 
kind  of  argument  we  have  already  shown  sufficiently. 

§   27.    IDEAS  OF   SPACE  AND    SOLIDITY  DISTINCT. 

To  conclude,  whatever  men  shall  think  concerning  the  exist- 
ence of  a  vacuum,  this  is  plain  to  me,  that  we  have  as  clear  an 
idea  of  space  distinct  from  solidity,  as  we  have  of  solidity  dis- 
tinct from  motion,  or  motion  from  space.  We  have  not  any 
(wo  more  distinct  ideas,  and  we  can  as  easily  conceive  space 
without  solidity,  as  we  can  conceive  body  or  space  without  mo- 
tion, though  it  be  ever  so  certain  that  neither  body  nor  motion 
can  exist  without  space.  J>ut  whether  any  one  will  fake  space 
to  be  only  a  relation  resulting  from  the  existence  of  other  being* 
at  a  distance,  or  whether  they  will  think  the  words  of  the  most 


172  MMFLE  MOPES  OF  SPACE.  |  BOOK  ir. 

knowing  king  Solomon, "  The  heaven,  and  the  heaven  of  heaven. - 
cannot  contain  thee,"  or  those  more  emphatical  ones  of  me 
inspired  philosopher  St.  Paul,  "  In  him  we  live,  move,  and  have 
our  being,'"  are  to  be  understood  in  a  literal  sense,  I  leave  every 
one  to  consider :  only  our  idea  of  space  is,  I  think,  such  as  I  have 
mentioned,  and  distinct  from  that  of  body.  For  whether  we  con- 
sider in  matter  itself  the  distance  of  its  coherent  solid  parts,  and 
call  it,  in  respect  of  those  solid  parts,  extension ;  or  whether, 
considering  it  as  lying  between  the  extremities  of  any  body  in  its 
several  dimensions,  we  call  it  length,  breadth,  and  thickness  ; 
or  else,  considering  it  as  lying  between  any  two  bodies  or  posi- 
tive beings,  without  any  consideration  whether  there  be  any  mat- 
ter or  no  between,  we  call  it  distance :  however  named  or 
considered,  it  is  always  the  same  uniform  rimple  idea  of  space, 
taken  from  objects  about  which  our  senses  have  been  conversant ; 
whereof  having  settledideas  in  our  minds,  we  can  revive,  repeat, 
and  add  them  one  to  another  as  often  as  we  will,  and  consider 
the  space  or  distance  so  imagined  either  as  filled  with  solid  parts, 
so  that  another  body  cannot  come  there  without  displacing  and 
thrusting  out  the  body  that  was  there  before,  or  else  as  void  of 
solidity,  so  that  a  body  of  equal  dimensions  to  that  empty  or  pure 
space  may  be  placed  in  it  without  the  removing  or  expulsion  of 
any  thing  that  was  there.  But,  to  avoid  confusion  in  discourses 
concerning  this  matter,  it  were  possibly  to  be  wished  that  the 
name  extension  were  applied  only  to  matter,  or  the  distance  of 
the  extremities  of  particular  bodies ;  and  the  term  expansion  to 
space  in  general,  with  or  without  solid  matter  possessing  it,  so  as 
to  say  space  is  expanded,  and  body  extended.  But  in  this  every 
one  has  liberty  :  I  propose  it  only  for  the  more  clear  and  distinct; 
way  of  speaking. 

§  28.    MEN  DIFFER  LITTLE  IN  CLEAR  SIMPLE  IDEAS. 

The  knowing  precisely  what  our  words  stand  for,  would,  I  im- 
agine, in  this  as  well  as  a  great  many  other  cases,  quickly  end  the 
dispute  :  for  I  am  apt  to  think  that  men,  when  they  come  to 
examine  them,  find  their  simple  Jdeas  all  generally  to  agree, 
though  in  discourse  with  one  another  they  perhaps  confound  one 
another  with  different  names.  I  imagine  that  men  who  abstract 
their  thoughts,  and  do  well  examine  the  ideas  of  their  own  minds, 
cannot  much  differ  in  thinking,  however  they  may  perplex  them- 
selves with  words,  according  to  the  way  of  speaking  of  the  seve- 
ral schools  or  sects  they  have  been  bred  up  in  :  though  among 
unthinking  men,  who  examine  not  scrupulously  and  carefully 
their  own  ideas,  and  strip  them  not  from  the  marks  men  use  for 
them,  but  confound  them  with  words,  there  must  be  endless  dis- 
pute, wrangling,  and  jargon  ;  especially  if  they  be  learned  book- 
ish men,  devoted  to  some  sect,  and  accustomed  to  the  language 
of  it,  and  have  learned  to  talk  after  others.  But  if  it  should 
happen  that  any  two  thinking  men  should  really  have  different 


CH.  XIV. j  DURATION,  AND  ITS  SIJIPLE  MODES.  173 

ideas,  I  do  not  sec  how  they  could  discourse  or  argue  one  with 
another.  Here  I  must  not  be  mistaken,  to  think  that  every  float- 
ing imagination  in  men's  brains  is  presently  of  that  sort  of  ideas 
1  speak  of.  It  is  not  easy  for  the  mind  to  put  off  those  confused 
notions  and  prejudices  it  has  imbibed  from  custom,  inadvertency, 
and  common  conversation  :  it  requires  pains  and  assiduity  to 
examine  its  ideas,  till  it  resolves  them  into  those  clear  and  distinct 
simple  ones,  out  of  which  they  are  compounded  ;  and  to  see 
which,  among  its  simple  ones,  have  or  have  not  a  necessary  con- 
nexion and  dependence  one  upon  another.  Till  a  man  doth  this 
in  the  primary  and  original  notion  of  things,  he  builds  upon  floating 
and  uncertain  principles,  and  will  often  find  himself  at  a  loss. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

OF  DURATION,  AND  ITS  SIMPLE  MODES. 

§   1.    DURATION  IS  FLEETING    EXTENSION. 

There  is  another  sort  of  distance  or  length,  the  idea  whereof 
we  get  not  from  the  permanent  parts  of  space,  but  from  the 
fleeting  and  perpetually  perishing  parts  of  succession.  This  we 
call  duration,  the  simple  modes  whereof  are  any  different  lengths 
of  it  whereof  we  have  distinct  ideas,  as  hours,  days,  years,  &c. 
iime  and  eternity. 

§  2.    ITS  IDEA  FROM  REFLECTION  ON  THE  TRAIN  OF  OUR  IDEAS. 

The  answer  of  a  great  man  to  one  who  asked  what  time  was, 
•■'■  Si  non  rogas  intelligo"  (which  amounts  to  this,  the  more  I  set 
myself  to  think  of  it,  the  less  I  understand  it)  might  perhaps  per- 
suade one  that  time,  which  reveals  all  other  things,  is  itself  not  to 
be  discovered.  Duration,  time,  and  eternity,  are  not  without 
reason  thought  to  have  something  very  abstruse  in  their  nature. 
But  however  remote  these  may  seem  from  our  comprehension, 
yet  if  we  trace  them  right  to  their  Originals,  I  doubt  not  but  one 
of  those  sources  of  all  our  knowledge,  viz.  sensation  and  reflection, 
will  be  able  to  furnish  us  with  these  ideas  as  clear  and  distinct  as 
many  other  which  are  thought  much  less  obscure  ;  and  we  shaN 
find  that  the  idea  of  eternity  itself  is  derived  from  the  same  com- 
mon original  with  the  rest  of  our  ideas. 

§3. 
To  understand  time  and  eternity  aright,  we  ought  with  attcn- 
fion  to  consider  what  idea  it  i^we  have  of  duration,  and  how  we 
f  ame  by  it.  It  is  evident  to  agiy  one,  who  will  but  observe  what 
passes  in  his  own  mind,  that  there  is  a  train  of  ideas  which  con- 
stantly succeed  one  another  in  his  understanding  as  long  as  he  is 


174  DURATION,  AND  ITS  SIMPLE  MODES.  [BOOK  II. 

awake.  Reflection  on  these  appearances  of  several  ideas,  one 
after  another,  in  our  minds,  is  that  which  furnishes  us  with  the 
idea  of  succession  ;  and  the  distance  between  any  parts  of  that 
succession,  or  between  the  appearance  of  any  two  ideas  in 
our  minds,  is  that  we  call  duration :  for  whilst  we  are  thinking, 
or  whilst  we  receive  successively  several  ideas  in  our  minds,  wc 
know  that  we  do  exist ;  and  so  we  call  the  existence,  or  the 
continuation  of  the  existence  of  ourselves,  or  any  thing  else, 
commensurate  to  the  succession  of  any  ideas  in  our  minds,  the 
duration  of  ourselves,  or  any  such  other  thing  coexistent  with 
our  thinking. 

§4. 

That  we  have  our  notion  of  succession  and  duration  from  this 
original,  viz.  from  reflection  on  the  train  of  ideas  which  we  find 
to  appear  one  after  another  in  our  own  minds,  seems  plain  to  me, 
in  that  we  have  no  perception  of  duration,  but  by  considering 
the  train  of  ideas  that  take  their  turns  in  our  understandings. 
When  that  succession  of  ideas  ceases,  our  perception  of  dura- 
tion ceases  with  it ;  which  every  one  clearly  experiments  in  him- 
self, whilst  he  sleeps  soundly,  whether  an  hour  or  a  day,  a  month 
or  a  year  ;  of  which  duration  of  things,  while  he  sleeps  or  thinks 
not,  he  has  no  perception  at  all,  but  it  is  quite  lost  to  him  ;  and 
the  moment  wherein  he  leaves  off  to  think,  till  the  moment  he 
begins  to  think  again,  seems  to  him  to  have  no  distance.  And  so 
I  doubt  not  it  would  be  to  a  waking  man,  if  it  were  possible  for 
him  to  keep  only  one  idea  in  his  mind,  without  variation  and 
the  succession  of  others.  And  we  see  that  one  who  fixes  his 
thoughts  very  intently  on  one  thing,  so  as  to  take  but  little  notice 
of  the  succession  of  ideas  that  pass  in  his  mind,  whilst  he  is 
taken  up  with  that  earnest  contemplation,  lets  slip  out  of  his 
account  a  good  part  of  that  duration,  and  thinks  that  time 
shorter  than  it  is.  But  if  sleep  commonly  unites  the  distant 
parts  of  duration,  it  is  because  during  that  time  we  have  no 
succession  of  ideas  in  our  minds;  for  if  a  man,  during  his  sleep, 
dreams,  and  variety  of  ideas  make  themselves  perceptible  in  his 
mind  one  after  another,  he  hath  then,  during  such  dreaming,  a 
sense  of  duration,  and  the  length  of  it :  by  which  it  is  to  me 
very  clear,  that  men  derive  their  ideas  of  duration  from  their 
reflections  on  the  train  of  the  ideas  they  observe  to  succeed  one 
another  in  their  own  understandings ;  without  which  observation, 
they  can  have  no  notion  of  duration,  whatever  may  happen  in  the 
world. 

§  5.    THE  IDEA  OF   DURATION   APPLICABLE  TO  THINGS  WHILST    WK 

M  EEB» 

Indeed  a  man  having,  from  reflecting  on  the  succession  and 
number  of  his  own  thoughts,  got  the  notion  or  idea  of  duration, 
he  can  apply  that  notion  to  things  which  exist  while  he  does  not 


CH.  XIV.]  DURATION,  AND  ITS  SIMPLE  MODES.  |?j: 

think  ;  as  he  that  has  got  the  idea  of  extension  from  bodies  by 
his  sight  or  touch,  can  apply  it  to  distances  where  no  body  is 
seen  or  felt.  And  therefore  though  a  man  has  no  perception  of 
the  length  of  duration,  which  passed  whilst  he  slept  or  thought 
not,  yet  having  observed  the  revolution  of  days  and  nights,  and 
found  the  length  of  their  duration  to  be  in  appearance  regular 
and  constant,  he  can,  upon  the  supposition  that  that  revolution 
has  proceeded  after  the  same  manner  whilst  he  was  asleep,  or 
thought  not  as  it  used  to  do  at  other  times  :  he  can,  1  say,  ima- 
gine and  make  allowance  for  the  length  of  duration  whilst  he 
slept.  But  if  Adam  and  Eve  (when  they  were  alone  in  the 
world,)  instead  of  their  ordinary  night's  sleep,  had  passed  the 
whole  twenty-fouF  hours  in  one  continued  sleep,  the  duration  of 
that  twenty-four  hours  had  been  irrecoverably  lost  to  them,  and 
been  for  ever  left  out  of  their  account  of  time. 

§  6.    THE  IDEA  OF  SUCCESSION  NOT  FROM  MOTION. 

Thus,  by  reflecting  on  the  appearing  of  various  ideas  one  after 
another  in  our  understandings,  we  get  the  notion  of  succession  ; 
which,  if  any  one  would  think  we  did  rather  get  from  our  obser- 
vation of  motion  by  our  senses,  he  will  perhaps  be  of  my  mind 
when  he  considers,  that  even  motion  produces  in  his  mind  an  idea 
of  succession  no  otherwise  than  as  it  produces  there  a  continued 
train  of  distinguishable  ideas.  For  a  man  looking  upon  a  body 
really  moving,  perceives  yet  no  motion  at  all,  unless  that  motion 
produces  a  constant  train  of  successive  ideas:  r.  g.  a  man  be- 
calmed at  sea,  out  of  sight  of  land,  in  a  fair  day,  may  look  on  the 
sun,  or  sea,  or  ship,  a  whole  hour  together,  and  perceive  no 
motion  at  all  in  either ;  though  it  be  certain  that  two,  and  per- 
haps all  of  them,  have  moved  during  that  time  a  great  way. 
But  as  soon  as  he  perceives  either  of  them  to  have  changed  dis- 
tance with  some  other  body,  as  soon  as  this  motion  produces  any 
new  idea  in  him,  then  he  perceives  that  there  has  been  motion. 
But  wherever  a  man  is,  with  all  things  at  rest  about  him,  without 
perceiving  any  motion  at  all ;  if  during  this  hour  of  quiet  he  has 
been  thinking,  he  will  perceive  the  various  ideas  of  his  own 
thoughts  in  his  own  mind,  appearing  one  after  another,  and 
thereby  observe  and  find  succession  where  he  could  observe  no 
motion. 

§7. 
And  this,  I  think,  is  the  reason  why  motions  very  slow,  though 
they  are  constant,  arc  not  perceived  by  us  ;  because,  in  their 
remove  from  one  sensible  part  toward  another,  their  change  of 
distance  is  so  slow,  that  it  causes  no  new  ideas  in  us,  but  a  good 
while  one  after  another:  and  so  not  causing  a  constant  train  of 
new  ideas  to  follow  one  another  immediately  in  our  mind.-, 
we  have  no  perception  of  motion;  which  consisting  in  a  constant 


1/6  DURATION,  AND  ITS  SIMPLE  MODES.  [BOOK  II. 

succession,  we  cannot  perceive  that  succession  withouta  constant 
succession  of  varying  ideas  arising  from  it. 

§8. 

On  the  contrary,  things  that  move  so  swift  as  not  to  affect  the 
senses  distinctly  with  several  distinguishable  distances  of  their 
motion,  and  so  cause  not  any  train  of  ideas  in  the  mind,  are  not 
also  perceived  to  move  ;  for  any  thing  that  moves  round  about 
in  a  circle  in  less  time  than  our  ideas  are  wont  to  succeed  one 
another  in  our  minds,  is  not  perceived  to  move,  but  seems  to  be 
a  perfect  entire  circle  of  that  matter  or  colour,  and  not  a  part  of 
a  circle  in  motion. 

§  9.    THE  TRAIN  OF  IDEAS  HAS   A   CERTAIN  DEGREE   OF  QUICKNESS. 

Hence  I  leave  it  to  others  to  judge  whether  it  be  not  probable 
that  our  ideas  do,  whilst  we  are  awake,  succeed  one  another  in 
our  minds  at  certain  distances,  not  much  unlike  the  images  in  the 
inside  of  a  lantern  turned  round  by  the  heat  of  a  candle.  This 
appearance  of  theirs  in  train,  though  perhaps  it  may  be  sometimes 
faster,  and  sometimes  slower,  yet,  1  guess,  varies  not  very  much 
in  a  waking  man  :  there  seem  to  be  certain  bounds  to  the  quick- 
ness and  slowness  of  the  succession  of  those  ideas  one  to  another 
in  our  minds,  beyond  which  they  can  neither  delay  nor  hasten. 

§  10. 
The  reason  I  have  for  this  odd  conjecture  is  from  observing, 
that  in  the  impressions  made  upon  any  of  our  senses  we  can  but 
to  a  certain  degree  perceive  any  succession  ;  which,  if  exceeding 
quick,  the  sense  of  succession  is  lost,  even  in  cases  where  it  is 
evident  that  there  is  a  real  succession.  Let  a  cannon-bullet  pass 
through  a  room,  and  in  its  way  take  with  it  any  limb  or  fleshy 
parts  of  a  man  ;  it  is  as  clear  as  any  demonstration  can  be,  that 
it  must  strike  successively  the  two  sides  of  the  room.  It  is  also 
evident,  that  it  must  touch  one  part  of  the  flesh  first,  and  another 
after,  and  so  in  succession :  and  yet  I  believe  nobody  who  ever 
felt  the  pain  of  such  a  shot,  or  heard  the  blow  against  the  two 
distant  walls,  could  perceive  any  succession  either  in  the  pain  or 
sound  of  so  swift  a  stroke.  Such  a  part  of  duration  as  this, 
wherein  we  perceive  no  succession,  is  that  which  we  may  call  an 
instant,  and  is  that  which  takes  up  the  time  of  only  one  idea  in 
our  minds  without  the  succession  of  another,  wherein  therefore 
Me  perceive  no  succession  at  all. 

§11. 

This  also  happens  where  the  motion  is  so  slow  as  not  to  supply 
a  constant  train  of  fresh  ideas  to  the  senses  as  fast  as  the  mind  is 
capable  of  receiving  new  ones  into  it ;  and  so  other  ideas  of  our 
own  thoughts,  having  room  to  come  into  our  minds  between 
those  offered  to  our  senses  by  the  moving  body,  there  the  sens<' 


CII.  XIV.]  DURATION,  AND  ITS  SIMPLE  MODES.  177 

of  motion  is  lost ;  and  the  body  though  it  really  moves,  yet  not 
changing  perceivable  distance  with  some  other  bodies  as  fast  as 
the  ideas  of  our  own  minds  do  naturally  follow  one  another  in 
train,  the  thing  seems  to  stand  still,  as  is  evident  in  the  hands  of 
clocks  and  shadows  of  sun-dials,  and  other  constant  but  slow  mo- 
tions ;  where,  though  after  certain  intervals,  we  perceive  by  the 
change  of  distance  that  it  hath  moved,  yet  the  motion  itself  we 
perceive  not. 

§  12.    THIS  TRAIN  THE  MEASURE  OF  OTHER  SUCCESSIONS. 

So  that  to  me  it  seems  that  the  constant  and  regular  succession 
of  ideas  in  a  waking  man  is,  as  it  were,  the  measure  and  standard 
of  all  other  successions :  whereof  if  any  one  either  exceeds  the 
pace  of  our  ideas,  as  where  two  sounds  or  pains,  &c.  take  up  in 
their  succession  the  duration  of  but  one  idea,  or  else  where  any 
motion  or  succession  is  so  slow  as  that  it  keeps  not  pace  with  the 
ideas  in  our  minds,  or  the  quickness  in  which  they  take  their 
turns ;  as  when  any  one  or  more  ideas,  in  their  ordinary  course, 
come  into  our  mind  between  those  which  are  offered  to  the  sight 
by  the  different  perceptible  distances  of  a  body  in  motion,  or  be- 
tween sounds  or  smells  following  one  another ;  there  also  the 
sense  of  a  constant  continued  succession  is  lost,  and  we  perceive 
it  not  but  with  certain  gaps  of  rest  between. 

§  13.  THE  MIND  CANNOT  FIX  LONG  ON  ONE  INVARIABLE  IDEA. 

If  it  be  so  that  the  ideas  of  our  minds,  whilst  we  have  any 
there,  do  constantly  change  and  shift  in  a  continual  succession,  it 
would  be  impossible,  may  any  one  say,  for  a  man  to  think  long 
of  any  one  thing.  By  which,  if  it  be  meant  that  a  man  may 
have  one  self-same  single  idea  a  long  time  alone  in  his  mind, 
without  any  variation  at  all,  I  think,  in  matter  of  fact,  it  is  not 
possible;  for  which  (not  knowing  how  the  ideas  of  our  minds  are 
framed,  of  what  materials  they  are  made,  whence  they  have 
their  light,  and  how  they  come  to  make  their  appearances)  I  can 
give  no  other  reason  but  experience  :  and  1  would  have  any  one 
try  whether  he  can  keep  one  unvaried  single  idea  in  his  mind, 
without  any  other,  for  any  considerable  time  together. 

§14 

For  trial,  let  him  take  any  figure,  any  degree  of  light  or  white- 
ness, or  what  other  he  pleases  ;  and  he  will,  I  suppose,  find  it 
difficult  to  keep  all  other  ideas  out  of  his  mind  ;  but  that  some, 
either  of  another  kind,  or  various  considerations  of  that  idea 
(each  of  which  considerations  is  a  new  idea)  will  constantly 
succeed  one  another  in  his  thoughts,  let  him  be  as  wary  as  he  can. 

§  15. 
All  that  is  in  a  man's  power  in  this  case,  I  think,  is  only  to 
mind  and  observe  what  the  ideas  are  that  take  their  turns  in  his 
Vol.  I.  23 


1¥8  DURATION,  AND  ITS  SIMPLE  MODES.  [BOOK  If. 

understanding  ;  or  else  to  direct  the  sort,  and  call  in  such  as  he 
hath  a  desire  or  use  of:  but  hinder  the  constant  succession  of  fresh 
ones,  I  think,  he  cannot,  though  he  may  commonly  choose  whe- 
ther he  will  heedfully  observe  and  consider  them. 

§   16.    IDEAS,  HOWEVER  MADE,  INCLUDE  NO  SENSE  OF  MOTION. 

Whether  these  several  ideas  in  a  man's  mind  be  made  by  cer- 
tain motions,  I  will  not  here  dispute  :  but  this  I  am  sure,  that 
they  include  no  idea  of  motion  in  their  appearance  ;  and  if  a  man 
had  not  the  idea  of  motion  otherwise,  I  think  he  would  have 
none  at  all ;  which  is  enough  to  my  present  purpose,  and  suffi- 
ciently shows  that  the  notice  we  take  of  the  ideas  of  our  own 
minds,  appearing  there  one  after  another,  is  that  which  gives 
us  the  idea  of  succession  and  duration,  without  which  we  should 
have  no  such  ideas  at  all.  It  is  not  then  motion,  but  the  constant 
train  of  ideas  in  our  minds,  whilst  we  are  waking,  that  furnishes 
us  with  the  idea  of  duration  ;  whereof  motion  no  otherwise  gives 
us  any  perception  than  as  it  causes  in  our  minds  a  constant  suc- 
cession of  ideas,  as  I  have  before  showed :  and  we  have  as 
clear  an  idea  of  succession  and  duration,  by  the  train  of  other 
ideas  succeeding  one  another  in  our  minds,  without  the  idea  of 
any  motion,  as  by  the  train  of  ideas  caused  by  the  uninterrupted 
sensible  change  of  distance  between  two  bodies,  which  we  have 
from  motion  ;  and  therefore  we  should  as  well  have  the  idea  of 
duration  were  there  no  sense  of  motion  at  all. 

§  17.    TIME  IS  DURATION   SET  OUT  BY  MEASURES. 

Having  thus  got  the  idea  of  duration,  the  next  thing  natural  for 
the  mind  to  do  is  to  get  some  measure  of  this  common  duration, 
Avhereby  it  might  judge  of  its  different  lengths,  and  consider  the 
distinct  order  wherein  several  things  exist,  without  which  a  great 
part  of  our  knowledge  would  be  confused,  and  a  great  part  of 
history  be  rendered  very  useless.  This  consideration  of  dura- 
tion, as  set  out  by  certain  periods,  and  marked  by  certain  mea- 
sures or  epochs,  is  that,  1  think,  which  most  properly  we  call 
time. 

§  18.    A  GOOD    MEASURE    OF    TIME  MUST  DIVIDE    ITS  WHOLE    DURATION 
INTO  EQUAL  PERIODS. 

In  the  measuring  of  extension  there  is  nothing  more  required 
but  the  application  of  the  standard  or  measure  we  make  use  of 
to  the  thing  of  whose  extension  we  would  be  informed.  But  in 
the  measuring  of  duration  this  cannot  be  done,  because  no  two 
different  parts  of  succession  can  be  put  together  to  measure  one 
another  :  and  nothing  being  a  measure  of  duration  but  duration, 
as  nothing  is  of  extension  but  extension,  we  cannot  keep  by  us 
any  standing  unvarying  measure  of  duration,  which  consists  in  a 
constant  fleeting  succession,  as  we  can  of  certain  lengths  of 


OH.  XIV. ]  DURATION,  AND  ITS  SIMPLE  MODES.  179 

extension,  as  inches,  feet,  yards,  &c.  marked  out  in  permanent 
parcels  of  matter.  Nothing,  then,  could  serve  well  for  a  conve- 
nient measure  of  time  hut  what  has  divided  the  whole  length  oi 
its  duration  into  apparently  equal  portions,  hy  constantly  repeated 
periods.  What  portions  of  duration  are  not  distinguished,  or 
considered  as  distinguished  and  measured  by  such  periods,  come, 
not  so  properly  under  the  notion  of  time,  as  appears  by  such 
phrases  as  these,  viz.  before  all  time,  and  when  time  shall  be  no 
more. 

§   19.    THE  REVOLUTIONS  OF  THE  SUN  A\D  MOON.  THE  moPERF.ST 
MEASURES  OF   TIME. 

The  diurnal  and  annual  revolutions  of  the  sun,  as  having  been, 
from  the  beginning  of  nature,  constant,  regular,  and  universally 
observable  by  all  mankind,  and  supposed  equal  to  one  another, 
have  been  with  reason  made  use  of  for  the  measure  of  duration. 
But  the  distinction  of  days  and  years  having  depended  on  the 
motion  of  the  sun,  it  has  brought  this  mistake  with  it,  that  it  has 
been  thought  that  motion  and  duration  were  the  measure  one  of 
another:  for  men,  in  the  measuring  of  the  length  of  time,  having 
been  accustomed  to  the  ideas  of  minutes,  hours,  days,  months, 
years,  &c.  which  they  found  themselves  upon  any  mention  of 
time  or  duration  presently  to  think  on,  all  which  portions  of  time 
were  measured  out  by  the  motion  of  those  heavenly  bodies ; 
they  were  apt  to  confound  time  and  motion,  or  at  least  to  think 
that  they  had  a  necessary  connexion  one  with  another  :  whereas 
any  constant  periodical  appearance  or  alteration  of  ideas  in 
seemingly  equidistant  spaces  of  duration,  if  constant  and  univer- 
sally observable,  would  have  as  well  distinguished  the  intervals 
of  time  as  those  that  have  been  made  use  of.  For  supposing 
the  sun,  which  some  have  taken  to  be  afire,  had  been  lighted  up 
at  the  same  distance  of  time  that  it  now  every  day  comes  about 
to  the  same  meridian,  and  then  gone  out  again  about  twelve  hours 
after,  and  that  in  the  space  of  an  annual  revolution  in  had  sen- 
sibly increased  in  brightness  and  heat,  and  so  decreased  again  ; 
would  not  such  regular  appearances  serve  to  measure  out  the 
distances  of  duration,  to  all  that  could  observe  it,  as  well  without 
as  with  motion  ?  For  if  the  appearances  were  constant,  univer- 
sally observable,  and  in  equidistant  periods,  they  would  serve 
mankind  for  measure  of  time  as  well,  were  the  motion  away. 

§  20.    BUT  NOT  BV  THEIR  MOTION,  BUT  PERIODICAL  APPEARANCES. 

For  the  freezing  of  water,  or  the  blowing  of  a  plant,  returning 
at  equidistant  periods  in  all  parts  of  the  earth,  would  as  well 
serve  men  to  reckon  their  years  by,  as  the  motions  of  the  sun  : 
and  in  effect  we  see  that  some  people  in  America  counted  their 
years  by  the  coming  of  certain  birds  among  them  at  their  cer- 
tain seasons,  and  leaving  them  at  others.  For  a  tit  of  an  ague, 
the  sense  of  hunger  or  thirst,  a  smell  or  a  taste,  or  anv  other  idea' 


180  DURATION,  AND  ITS  SIMPLE  MODES.  [BOOK  II. 

returning  constantly  at  equidistant  periods,  and  making  itself 
universally  be  taken  notice  of,  would  not  fail  to  measure  out  the 
course  of  succession,  and  distinguish  the  distance  of  time.  Thus, 
we  see  that  men  born  blind  count  time  well  enough  by  years, 
whose  revolutions  yet  they  cannot  distinguish  by  motions  that 
they  perceive  not :  and  I  ask  whether  a  blind  man,  who  distin- 
guished his  years  either  by  the  heat  of  summer  or  cold  of  win- 
ter ;  by  the  smell  of  any  flower  of  the  spring,  or  taste  of  any  fruit 
of  the  autumn  ;  would  not  have  a  better  measure  of  time  than 
the  Romans  had  before  the  reformation  of  theircalendar  by  Julius 
Caesar,  or  many  other  people,  whose  years,  notwithstanding  the 
motion  of  the  sun,  which  they  pretend  to  make  use  of,  are  very 
irregular?  And  it  adds  no  small  difficulty  to  chronology,  that  the 
exact  lengths  of  the  years  that  several  nations  counted  by  are 
hard  to  be  known,  they  differing  very  much  one  from  another, 
and  I  think  I  may  say  all  of  them  from  the  precise  motion  of  the 
sun.  And  if  the  sun  moved  from  the  creation  to  the  flood,  con- 
stantly Id  the  equator,  and  so  equally  dispersed  its  light  and  heat 
to  all  the  habitable  parts  of  the  earth,  in  days  all  of  the  same 
length,  without  its  annual  variations  to  the  tropics,  as  a  late  inge- 
nious author  supposes  ;*  1  do  not  think  it  very  easy  to  imagine 
that  (notwithstanding  the  motion  of  the  sun)  men  should,  in  the 
antediluvian  world,  from  the  beginning,  count  by  years,  or  mea- 
sure their  time  by  periods,  that  had  no  sensible  marks  very  obvious 
to  distinguish  them  by. 

§  21.  NO  TWO  PARTS  OF  DURATION  CAN  BE  CERTAINLY  KNOWN  TO  BE 

EQUAL. 

But  perhaps  it  will  be  said,  without  a  regular  motion,  such  as 
of  the  sun  or  some  other,  how  could  it  ever  be  known  that  such 
periods  were  equal  ?  To  which  I  answer,  the  equality  of  any 
other  returning  appearances  might  be  known  by  the  same  way 
that  that  of  days  was  known  or  presumed  to  be  so  at  first ;  which 
was  only  by  judging  of  them  by  the  train  of  ideas  which  had 
passed  in  men's  minds  in  the  intervals :  by  which  train  of  ideas 
.  discovering  inequality  in  the  natural  days,  but  none  in  the  artifi- 
cial days,  the  artificial  days,  or  w%1kfup«,  were  guessed  to  be  equal, 
which  was  sufficient  to  make  them  serve  for  a  measure,  though 
exacter  search  has  since  discovered  inequality  in  the  diurnal 
revolutions  of  the  sun,  and  we  know  not  whether  the  annual  also 
be  not  unequal.  These  yet,  by  their  presumed  and  apparent 
equality,  serve  as  well  to  reckon  time  by  (though  not  to  measure 
the  parts  of  duration  exactly)  as  if  they  could  be  proved  to  be 
exactly  equal.  We  must  therefore  carefully  distinguish  betwixt 
duration  itself,  and  the  measures  we  make  use  of  to  judge  of  its 
length.  Duration  in  itself  is  to  be  considered  as  going  on  in  one 
constant,  equal,  uniform,  course  :  but  none  of  the  measures  of 

*  Dr.  Burnet's  Thcorv  of  the  Earth. 


€11.   XIV.]  DURATION,  AND  ITS  SIMPLE  MODES.  1S1 

it,  which  we  make  use  of,  can  be  known  to  do  so  ;  nor  can  wc 
be  assured  that  their  assigned  parts  or  periods  are  equal  in  dura- 
tion one  to  another ;  for  two  successive  lengths  of  duration,  how- 
ever measured,  can  never  be  demonstrated  to  be  equal.  The 
motion  of  the  sun,  which  the  world  used  so  long  and  so  confi- 
dently for  an  exact  measure  of  duration,  has,  as  1  said,  been  found 
in  its  several  parts  unequal:  and  though  men  have  of  late  made 
use  of  a  pendulum,  as  a  more  steady  and  regular  motion  than 
that  of  the  sun,  or  (to  speak  more  truly)  of  the  earth  ;  yet  if  any 
one  should  be  asked  how  he  certainly  knows  that  the  two  suc- 
cessive swings  of  a  pendulum  are  equal,  it  would  be  very  hard 
to  satisfy  him  that  they  are  infallibly  so  :  since  we  cannot  be  sure 
that  the  cause  of  that  motion,  which  is  unknown  to  us,  shall 
always  operate  equally  :  and  we  are  sure  that  the  medium  in 
which  the  pendulum  moves  is  not  constantly  the  same  :  either  of 
which  varying,  may  alter  the  equality  of  such  periods,  and  thereby 
destroy  the  certainty  and  exactness  of  the  measure  by  motion, 
as  well  as  any  other  periods  of  other  appearances ;  the  notion  of 
duration  still  remaining  clear,  though  our  measures  of  it  cannot 
any  of  them  be  demonstrated  to  be  exact.  Since  then  no  two 
portions  of  succession  can  be  brought  together,  it  is  impossible 
ever  certainly  to  know  their  equality.  All  that  we  can  do  for  a 
measure  of  time  is  to  take  such  as  have  continual  successive 
appearances  at  seemingly  equidistant  periods;  of  which  seeming 
equality  we  have  no  other  measure  but  such  as  the  train  of  our 
own  ideas  have  lodged  in  our  memories,  with  the  concurrence  of 
other  probable  reasons,  to  persuade  us  of  their  equality. 

§  22.  TIME  NOT  THE  MEASURE  OF  MOTION". 

One  thing  seems  strange  to  me,  that  whilst  all  men  manifestly 
measured  time  by  the  motion  of  the  great  and  visible  bodies  of 
the  world,  time  yet  should  be  defined  to  be  the  "  measure  of 
motion  j"  whereas  it  is  obvious  to  every  one  who  reflects  ever 
so  little  on  it,  that,  to  measure  motion,  space  is  as  necessary  to  be 
considered  as  time  ;  and  those  who  look  a  little  farther,  will  find 
also  the  bulk  of  the  thing  moved  necessary  to  be  taken  into  the 
computation  by  any  one  who  will  estimate  or  measure  motion,  so 
as  to  judge  right  of  it.  Nor  indeed  does  motion  any  otherwise 
conduce  to  the  measuring  of  duration,,  than  as  it  constantly  brings 
about  the  return  of  certain  sensible  ideas  in  seeming  equidistant 
periods.  For  if  the  motion  of  the  sun  were  as  unequal  as  of  a 
ship  driven  by  unsteady  winds,  sometimes  very  slow,  and  at  others 
irregularly  very  swift ;  or  if,  being  constantly  equally  swift,  it 
yet  was  not  circular,  and  produced  not' the  same  appearances,  it 
would  not  at  all  help  us  to  measure  time,  any  more  than  the 
«eeming  unequal  motion  of  a  comet  does. 


182  DURATION,  AND  ITS  SIMPLE  MODES.  [BOOK  II. 

§  23  Minutes,  hours,  days,  and  years,  not  necessary  measures  of 

duration. 

Minutes,  hours,  days,  and  years,  are  then  no  more  necessary  to 
time  or  duration,  than  inches,  feet,  yards,  and  miles,  marked  out 
in  any  matter,  are  to  extension :  for  though  we  in  this  part  of  the 
universe,  by  the  constant  use  of  them,  as  of  periods  set  out  by 
the  revolutions  of  the  sun,  or  as  known  parts  of  such  periods, 
have  fixed  the  ideas  of  such  lengths  of  duration  in  our  minds, 
which  we  apply  to  all  parts  of  time,  whose  lengths  we  would 
consider ;  yet  there  may  be  other  parts  of  the  universe,  where 
they  no  more  use  these  measures  of  ours,  than  in  Japan  they  do 
our  inches,  feet,  or  miles ;  but  yet  something  analogous  to  them 
there  must  be.  For  without  some  regular  periodical  returns,  we 
could  not  measure  ourselves,  or  signify  to  others  the  length  of 
any  duration,  though  at  the  same  time  the  world  were  as  full  of 
motion  as  it  is  now,  but  no  part  of  it  disposed  into  regular  and 
apparently  equidistant  revolutions.  But  the  different  measures 
that  may  be  made  use  of  for  the  account  of  time  do  not  at  all 
alter  the  notion  of  duration,  which  is  the  thing  to  be  measured,  no 
more  than  the  different  standards  of  a  foot  and  a  cubit  alter  the 
notion  of  extension  to  those  who  make  use  of  those  different 
measures. 

§  24.    OUR  MEASURE  OF  TIME  APPLICABLE    TO   DURATION  BEFORE  TIME. 

The  mind  having  once  got  such  a  measure  of  time  as  the  annual 
revolution  of  the  sun,  can  apply  that  measure  to  duration, 
wherein  that  measure  itself  did  not  exist,  and  with  which,  in  the 
reality  of  its  being,  it  had  nothing  to  do :  for  should  one  say,  that 
Abraham  was  born  in  the  two  thousand  seven  hundred  and 
twelfth  year  of  the  Julian  period,  it  is  altogether  as  intelligible 
as  reckoning  from  the  beginning  of  the  world,  though  there  were 
so  far  back  no  motion  of  the  sun,  nor  any  motion  at  all.  For 
though  the  Julian  period  be  supposed  to  begin  several  hundred 
years  before  there  were  really  either  days,  nights,  or  years, 
marked  out  by  any  revolutions  of  the  sun ;  yet  we  reckon  as 
right,  and  thereby  measure  durations  as  well,  as  if  really  at  that 
time  the  sun  had  existed,  and  kept  the  same  ordinary  motion  it 
doth  now.  The  idea  of  duration  equal  to  an  annual  revolution 
of  the  sun  is  as  easily  applicable  in  our  thoughts  to  duration, 
where  no  sun  nor  motion  was,  as  the  idea  of  a  foot  or  yard,  taken 
from  bodies  here,  can  be  applied  in  our  thoughts  to  distances  be- 
yond the  confines  of  the  world,  where  are  no  bodies  at  all. 

§25. 

For  supposing  it  were  five  thousand  six  hundred  and  thirty- 
nine  miles,  or  millions  of  miles,  from  this  place  to  the  remotest 
body  of  the  universe  (for,  being  finite,  it  must  be  at  a  certain  dis- 
tance) as  we  suppose  it  to  be  five  thousand  six  hundred  and 
thirty  nine  years  from  this  time  to  the  first  existence  of  any  body 


CH.  XIV.  j  DURATION  AND  ITS  SIMPLE  MODES.  183 

in  the  beginning  of  the  world;  we  can  in  our  thoughts,  apply 
this  measure  of  a  year  to  duration  before  the  creation,  or  beyond 
the  duration  of  bodies  or  motion,  as  we  can  this  measure  of  a 
mile  to  space  beyond  the  utmost  bodies ;  and  by  the  one  measure 
duration  where  there  was  no  motion,  as  well  as  by  the  other 
measure  space  in  our  thoughts  where  there  is  no  body. 

§26. 

If  it  be  objected  to  me  here,  that,  in  this  way  of  explaining  of 
time,  1  have  begged  what  I  should  not,  viz.  that  the  world  is 
neither  eternal  nor  infinite  ;  I  answer,  that  to  my  present  pur- 
pose it  is  not  needful,  in  this  place,  to  make  use  of  arguments  to 
evince  the  world  to  be  finite,  both  in  duration  and  extension ; 
but  it  being  at  least  as  conceivable  as  the  contrary,  1  have  cer- 
tainly the  liberty  to  suppose  it,  as  well  as  any  one  hath  to  suppose 
the  contrary  ;  and  I  doubt  not  but  that  every  one  that  will  go 
about  it,  may  easily  conceive  in  his  mind  the  beginning  of  motion, 
though  not  of  all  duration,  and  so  may  come  to  a  stop  and  non 
idtta  in  his  consideration  of  motion.  So  also  in  his  thoughts  he 
may  set  limits  to  body,  and  the  extension  belonging  to  it,  but  not 
to  space  where  no  body  is  ;  the  utmost  bounds  of  space  and  du- 
ration being  beyond  the  reach  of  thought,  as  well  as  the  utmost 
bounds  of  number  are  beyond  the  largest  comprehension  of  the 
mind ;  and  all  for  the  same  reason,  as  we  shall  see  in  another 
place. 

§  27.    ETERNITY. 

By  the  same  means,  therefore,  and  from  the  same  original  that 
we  come  to  have  the  idea  of  time,  we  have  also  that  idea  which 
we  call  eternity ;  viz.  having  got  the  idea  of  succession  and  dura- 
tion, by  reflecting  on  the  train  of  our  own  ideas,  caused  in  us 
either  by  the  natural  appearances  of  those  ideas  coming  con- 
stantly of  themselves  into  our  waking  thoughts,  or  else  caused 
by  external  objects  successively  affecting  our  senses  ;  and  having 
from  the  revolutions  of  the  sun  got  the  ideas  of  certain  lengths  of 
duration,  we  can  in  our  thoughts  add  such  lengths  of  duration  to 
one  another,  as  often  as  we  please,  and  appl)  them,  so  added,  to 
durations  past  or  to  come  :  and  this  we  can  continue  to  do  on, 
without  bounds  or  limits,  and  proceed  in  infinitum,  and  apply 
thus  the  length  of  the  annual  motion  of  the  sun  to  duration,  sup- 
posed before  the  sun's,  or  any  other  motion  had  its  being  ;  which 
is  no  more  difficult  or  absurd,  than  to  apply  the  notion  I  have  of 
the  moving  of  a  shadow  one  hour  to-day  upon  the  sun-dial  to 
the  duration  of  something  last  night,  v.  g.  the  burning  of  a 
candle,  which  is  now  absolutely  separate  from  all  actual  motion  : 
and  it  is  as  impossible  for  the  duration  of  that  flame  for  an  hour 
last  night  to  coexist  with  any  motion  that  now  is,  or  for  ever 
shall  be,  as  for  any  part  of  duration,  that  was  before  the  be 
•finnintj  of   the  world  to  coexist  with  the  motion  of  the  sun 


184'  DURATION,  AND  ITS  SIMPLE  MODES.  [BOOK  II- 

now.  But  yet  this  hinders  not,  but  that  having  the  idea  of  the 
length  of  the  motion  of  the  shadow  on  a  dial  between  the  marks 
of  two  hours,  I  can  as  distinctly  measure  in  my  thoughts  the 
duration  of  that  candlelight  last  night,  as  I  can  the  duration  of 
any  thing  that  does  now  exist :  and  it  is  no  more  than  to  think, 
that  had  the  sun  shone  then  on  the  dial,  and  moved  after  the 
same  rate  it  doth  now,  the  shadow  on  the  dial  would  have  passed 
from  one  hour-line  to  another,  whilst  that  flame  of  the  candle 
lasted. 

§  28. 
The  notion  of  an  hour,  day,  or  year,  being  only  the  idea  I 
have  of  the  length  of  certain  periodical  regular  motions,  neither 
of  which  motions  do  ever  all  at  once  exist,  but  only  in  the  ideas 
I  have  of  them  in  my  memory,  derived  from  my  senses  or  reflec- 
tion ;  I  can  with  the  same  ease,  and  for  the  same  reason,  apply  it 
in  my  thoughts  to  duration  antecedent  to  all  manner  of  motion, 
as  well  as  to  any  thing  that  is  but  a  minute,  or  a  day,  antecedent 
to  the  motion,  that  at  this  very  moment  the  sun  is  in.  All  things 
past  are  equally  and  perfectly  at  rest ;  and  to  this  way  of  con- 
sideration of  them  are  all  one,  whether  they  were  before  the 
beginning  of  the  world,  or  but  yesterday  :  the  measuring  of  any 
duration  by  some  motion  depending  not  at  all  on  the  real  co- 
existence of  that  thing  to  that  motion,  or  any  other  periods  of 
revolution,  but  the  having  a  clear  idea  of  the  length  of  some 
periodical  known  motion,  or  other  intervals  of  duration  in  my 
mind,  and  applying  that  to  the  duration  of  the  thing  I  would 
measure. 

§29. 

Hence  we  see,  that  some  men  imagine  the  duration  of  the 
world,  from  its  first  existence  to  this  present  year  1689,  to  have 
been  five  thousand  six  hundred  and  thirty-nine  years,  or  equal 
to  five  thousand  six  hundred  and  thirty-nine  annual  revolutions 
of  the  sun,  and  others  a  great  deal  more;  as  the  Egyptians  of 
old,  who  in  the  time  of  Alexander  counted  twenty  three  thou- 
sand years  from  the  reign  of  the  sun  ;  and  the  Chinese  now,  who 
account  the  world  three  millions,  two  hundred  and  sixty-nine 
thousand  years  old  or  more :  which  longer  duration  of  the 
world,  according  to  their  computation,  though  I  should  not 
believe  to  be  true,  yet  1  can  equally  imagine  it  with  them,  and 
as  truly  understand,  and  say  one  is  longer  than  the  other,  as.  I 
understand,  that  Methusalem's  life  was  longer  than  Enoch's. 
And  if  the  common  reckoning  of  five  thousand  six  hundred  and 
thirty-nine  should  be  true  (as  it  may  be  as  well  as  any  other 
assigned,)  it  hinders  not  at  all  my  imagining  what  others  mean 
when  they  make  the  world  one  thousand  years  older,  since  every 
one  may  with  the  same  facility  imagine  (I  do  not  say  believe) 
the  world  to  be  fifty  thousand  years  old,  as  five  thousand  six 


*  H.   XIV.  |  ULKATIO.N,  AM)  ITS  SIMPLE  MODES.  IH5 

hundred  and  thirty-nine  ;  and  may  as  well  conceive  the  duration 
of  fifty  thousand  years  as  tive  thousand  six  hundred  and  thirty- 
nine.  Whereby  it  appears,  that  to  the  measuring  the  duration 
of  any  thing  hy  time,  it  is  not  requisite  that  that  thing  should 
he  coexistent  to  the  motion  we  measure  by,  or  any  other  peri- 
odical revolution  ;  but  it  suffices  to  this  purpose,  that  we  have 
the  idea  of  the  length  of  any  regular  periodical  appearances, 
which  we  can  in  our  minds  apply  to  duration,  with  which  the 
motion  or  appearance  never  coexisted. 

§30. 

For  as  in  the  history  of  the  creation,  delivered  hy  Moses,  1 
can  imagine  that  light  existed  three  days  before  the  sun  was,  or 
had  any  motion,  barely  by  thinking,  that  the  duration  of  light, 
before  the  sun  was  created  was  so  long  as  (if  the  sun  had  moved 
then,  as  it  doth  now)  would  have  been  equal  to  three  of  his  di- 
urnal revolutions  ;  so  by  the  same  way  I  can  have  an  idea  of  the 
chaos,  or  angels  being  created  before  there  was  either  light,  or 
any  continued  motion,  a  minute,  an  hour,  a  day,  a  year,  or  one 
thousand  years.  For  if  I  can  but  consider  duration  equal  to  one 
minute,  before  either  the  being  or  motion  of  any  body,  I  can  add 
one  minute  more  till  I  come  to  sixty  ;  and  by  the  same  way  of 
adding  minutes,  hours,  or  years,  (i.  e.  such  or  such  parts  of  the 
sun's  revolutions,  or  any  other  period  whereof  I  have  the  idea) 
proceed  in  infinitum,  and  suppose  a  duration  exceeding  as  many  ' 
such  periods  as  I  can  reckon,  let  me  add  whilst  I  will :  which  I 
think  is  the  notion  we  have  of  eternity,  of  whose  infinity  we 
have  no  other  notion  than  we  have  of  the  infinity  of  number,  to 
which  we  can  add  for  ever  without  end. 

§31. 

And  thus  I  think  it  is  plain,  that  from  those  two  fountains  of  all 
knowledge  before  mentioned,  viz.  reflection  and  sensation,  we 
get  ideas  of  duration,  and  the  measures  of  it. 

For,  first,  By  observing  what  passes  in  our  minds,  how  our 
ideas  there  in  train  constantly  some  vanish,  and  others  begin  to 
appear,  we  come  by  the  idea  of  succession. 

Secondly,  By  observing  a  distance  in  the  parts  of  this  succes- 
sion, we  get  the  idea  of  duration. 

Thirdly,  By  sensation  observing  certain  appearances,  at  cer- 
tain regular  and  seeming  equidistant  periods,  we  get  the  ideas  of 
certain  lengths  or  measures  of  duration,  as  minutes,  hours,  days, 
years,  &c. 

Fourthly,  By  being  able  to  repeat  those  measures  of  time,  or 
ideas  of  stated  length  of  duration  in  our  minds,  as  often  as  we 
will,  we  can  come  to  imagine  duration,  where  nothing  does  really 
endure  or  exist  ;  and  thus  we  imagine  to-morrow,  next  year,  or 
seven  years  hence. 

Fifthly,  By  being  able  to  repeat  ideas  of  any  length  of  tim» 

YOU  \.  24 


TSu"         dCration  and  expansion  considered,         [book  n. 

as  of  a  minute,  a  year,  or  an  age,  as  often  as  we  will,  in  our 
own  thoughts,  and  adding  them  one  to  another,  without  ever 
coming  to  the  end  of  such  addition  any  nearer  than  we  can  to 
the  end  of  number,  to  which  we  can  always  add  ;  we  come  by 
the  idea  of  eternity,  as  the  future  eternal  duration  of  our  souls, 
as  well  as  the  eternity  of  .that  infinite  Being,  which  must  neces- 
sarily have  always  existed. 

Sixthly,  By  considering  any  part  of  infinite  duration,  as  set 
out  by  periodical  measures,  we  come  by  the  idea  of  what  we  call 
lime  in  general. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

OF  DURATION  AND  EXPANSION,  CONSIDERED  TOGETHER. 

§    1.    BOTH  CAPABLE  OF  GREATER.  AND  LESS. 

Though  we  have  in  the  precedent  chapters  dwelt  pretty  long 
on  the  considerations  of  space  and  duration  ;  yet  they  being 
ideas  of  general  concernment,  that  have  something  very  abstruse 
and  peculiar  in  their  nature,  the  comparing  them  one  with 
another  may  perhaps  be  of  use  for  their  illustration  ;  and  we 
may  have  the  more  clear  and  distinct  conception  of  them,  by 
taking  a  view  of  them  together.  Distance  or  space,  in  its  sim- 
ple abstract  conception,  to  avoid  confusion,  I  call  expansion,  to 
d  istinguish  it  from  extension,  which  by  some  is  used  to  express 
this  distance  only  as  it  is  in  the  solid  parts  of  matter,  and  so  in- 
cludes, or  at  least  intimates,  the  idea  of  body  :  whereas  the  idea  of 
pure  distance  includes  no  such  thing.  I  prefer  also  the  word  ex- 
pansionto  space,  because  space  is  often  applied  to  distance  of  fleet- 
ing successive  parts,which  neverexist  together,  as  well  as  to  those 
which  are  permanent.  In  both  these  (viz.  expansion  and  duration) 
the  mind  has  this  common  idea  of  continued  lengths,  capable  of 
greater  or  less  quantities  :  for  a  man  has  as  clear  an  idea  of  the 
difference  of  the  length  of  an  hour  and  a  day,  as  of  an  inch  and 
a  foot. 

§  2.  EXPANSION  NOT  EOUSDKU  BY  MATTER. 

The  mind  having  got  the  idea  of  the  length  of  any  part  of  ex- 
pansion, let  it  be  a  span  or  a  pace,  or  what  length  you  will,  can, 
as  has  been  said,  repeat  that  idea  :  and  so,  adding  it  to  the  for- 
mer, enlarge  its  idea  of  length,  and  make  it  equal  to  two  spans, 
or  two  paces,  and  so  as  often  as  it  will,  till  it  equals  the  distance 
of  any  parts  of  the  earth,  one  from  another,  and  increase  thus, 
till  it  amounts  to  the  distance  of  the  sun  or  remotest  star.  By 
=-iich  a  progression  as  this,  setting  out  from  the  place  where  it  is, 
or  any  otherplace,  it  Gan  proceed  anil  pass  beyond  all  those 


CH.    SV.]  .1  ION  AMi  EXPANSION  I  OWSIDERED.  LSI 

lengths,  and  find  frothing  to  stop  its  going  on,  cither  in,  or  with- 
out body.  It  is  true,  we  can  easily,  in  our  thoughts,  eornc  to  the 
end  of  solid  extension  ;  the  extremity  and  bounds  of  all  body  we 
have  no  difficulty  to  arrive  at :  but  when  the  mind  is  there,  it 
finds  nothing  to  hinder  its  progress  into  this  endless  expansion  ; 
of  that  it  can  neither  find  nor  conceive  any  end.  Nor  let  any 
one  say,  that  beyond  the  bounds  of  body  there  is  nothing  at  all, 
unless  he  will  confine  (iod  within  the  limits  of  matter.  Solomon, 
whose  understanding  was  filled  and  enlarged  with  wisdom,  seems 
to  have  other  thoughts,  when  he  says,  "  heaven,  and  the  heaven 
of  heavens,  cannot  contain  thee  :*'  and  he,  1  think,  very  much 
magnifies  to  himself  the  capacity  of  his  own  understanding,  who 
persuades  himself  that  he  can  extend  his  thoughts  farther  than 
'  lod  exists,  or  imagine  any  expansion  w  here  he  is  not. 

§  3.  NOR  DURATION  El'  MOTION. 

Just  so  is  it  in  duration.  The  mind,  having  got  the  idea  of 
any  length  of  duration,  can  double,  multiply,  and  enlarge  it,  not 
only  beyond  its  own,  but  beyond  the  existence  of  all  corporeal 
beings,  and  all  the  measures  of  time,  taken  from  the  great  bodies 
<;f  the  wrorld  and  their  motions.  But  yet  every  one  easily  admits, 
that  though  we  make  duration  boundless,  as  certainly- it  is, 
we  cannot  yet  extend  it  beyond  all  being.  God,  everyone  easily 
allows,  fills  eternity,  and  it  is  hard  to  find  a  reason  why  any 
one  should  doubt  that  he  likewise  fills  immensity.  His  infinite 
being  is  certainly  as  boundless  one  way  as  another,  and  methinks 
it  ascribes  a  little  too  much  to  matter  to  say  where  there  is  no 
body,  there  is  nothing. 

$4:    WHY  MEN  MORE  EASILY   ADMIT  INFINITE  DURATION  THAN  INFINITE 
EXFAASIO.-V. 

Hence,  I  think,  we  may  learn  the  reason  why  every  onefami 
liarly,  and  without  the  least  hesitation,  speaks  of,  and  supposes 
eternity,  and  sticks  not  to  ascribe  infinity  to  duration  ;  but  it  is 
with  more  doubting  and  reserve  that  many  admit  or  suppose  the 
infinity  of  space.  The  reason  whereof  seems  to  me  to  be  this  ; 
that  duration  and  extension  being  used  as  names  of  affections 
belonging  to  other  beings,  we  easily  conceive  in  God  infinite  du- 
ration, and  we  cannot  avoid  doing  so  ;  but  not  attributing  to  him 
extension,  but  only  to  matter,  which  is  finite,  we  are  apter  to 
doubt  of  the  existence  of  expansion  without  matter,  of  which 
alone  we  commonly  suppose  it  an  attribute.  And  therefore  when 
men  pursue  their  thoughts  of  space,  they  are  apt  to  stop  at  the 
confines  of  body,  as  if  space  were  there  at  an  end  too,  and  reached 
no  farther.  Or  if  their  ideas  upon  consideration  carry  them 
farther,  yet  they  term  what  is  beyond  the  limits  of  the  universe 
imaginary  space  ;  as  if  it  were  nothing,  because  there  is  no  body 
existing  in  it :  whereas  duration,  antecedent  to  all  body,  and  to 
the  motions  which  it  is  measured  by,  they  never  term  imaginary. 


188  IH  KATION   AND  EXPANSION   CONSIDERED.        [BOOK   II. 

because  it  is  never  supposed  void  ot'  some  other  real  existence. 
And  if  the  names  of  things  may  at  all  direct  our  thoughts  towards 
the  originals  of  men's  ideas  (as  I  am  apt  to  think  they  may  very 
much)  one  may  have  occasion  to  think  by  the  name  duration,  that 
the  continuation  of  existence,  with  a  kind  of  resistance  to  any 
destructive  force,  and  the  continuation  of  solidity  (which  is  apt  to 
be  confounded  with,  and,  if  we  look  into  the  minute  anatomical 
parts  of  matter,  is  little  different  from,  hardness)  were  thought  to 
have  some  analogy,  and  gave  occasion  to  words  so  near  of  kin  as 
durare  and  durum  esse.  And  that  durare  is  applied  to  the  idea 
of  hardness  as  well  as  that  of  existence,  we  see  in  Horace,  epod. 
xvi.  "ferro  duravit  secula."  But  be  that  as  it  will,  this  is  certain; 
that  whoever  pursues  his  own  thoughts  will  find  them  sometimes 
launch  out  beyond  the  extent  of  body  into  the  infinity  of  space 
or  expansion  ;  the  idea  whereof  is  distinct  and  separate  from 
body  and  all  other  things:  which  may  (to  those  who  please)  be 
a  subject  of  farther  meditation. 

§  5.    TIME  TO  DURATION  IS  AS  PLACE  TO  EXPANSION. 

Time  in  general  is  to  duration  as  place  to  expansion.  They  are 
so  much  of  those  boundless  oceans  of  eternity  and  immensity  as  is 
set  out  and  distinguished  from  the  rest,  as  it  were,  by  landmarks; 
and  so  are  made  use  of  to  denote  the  position  of  finite  real  beings, 
in  respect  one  to  another,  in  those  uniform  infinite  oceans  of 
duration  and  space.  These,  rightly  considered,  are  only  ideas 
of  determinate  distances,  from  certain  known  points  fixed  in 
distinguishable  sensible  things,  and  supposed  to  keep  the  same 
distance  one  from  another.  From  such  points  fixed  in  sensible 
beings  we  reckon,  and  from  them  we  measure  our  portions  of 
those  infinite  quantities ;  which,  so  considered,  are  that  which 
wre  call  time  and  place.  For  duration  and  space  being  in  them- 
selves uniform  and  boundless,  the  order  and  position  of  things, 
without  such  known  settled  points,  would  be  lost  in  them,  and  all 
things  would  lie  jumbled  in  an  incurable  confusion. 

<3  6.    TIME  AND  PLACE  ARE  TAKEN  FOK  SO  MUCH  OF  EITHER,  AS  ARE  SET 
OUT  BY  THE   EXISTENCE  AND  MOTION  OF  BODIES. 

Time  and  place,  taken  thus  for  determinate  distinguishable 
portions  of  those  infinite  abysses  of  space  and  duration,  set  out 
or  supposed  to  be  distinguished  from  the  rest  by  marks  and  known 
boundaries,  have  each  of  them  a  twofold  acceptation. 

First,  Time  in  general  is  commonly  taken  for  so  much  of 
infinite  duration  as  is  measured  by,  and  coexistent  with,  the 
existence  and  motions  of  the  great  bodies  of  the  universe,  as  far 
as  we  know  any  thing  of  them  :  and  in  this  sense  time  begins  and 
ends  with  the  frame  of  this  sensible  world,  as  in  these  phrases 
before  mentioned,  before  all  time,  or  when  timeshall  be  no  more. 
Place  likewise  is  taken  sometimes  for  that  portion  of  infinite 
space  which  is  possessed  by.  and  comprehended  within,  the  ma- 


1  II.    XV.]  JURATION  AND  EXPANSION.  CONSIDERED.  189 

ferial  world,  and  is  thereby  distinguished  from  the  rest  of  expan- 
sion ;  though  this  may  more  properly  be  called  extension  than 
place.  Within  these  two  are  confined,  and  by  the  observable 
parts  of  them  are  measured  and  determined,  the  particular  time 
or  duration,  and  the  particular  extension  and  place  of  all  corpo- 
real beings. 

§   7.    SOMETIMES  FOR  SO  MUCH  OF  EITHER,    AS  WE  DESIGN  BY  MEASURES 
TAKEN  FROM  THE  BULK  OR  MOTIOK   OF  BODIES. 

Secondly,  Sometimes  the  word  time  is  used  in  a  larger  sense, 
and  is  applied  to  parts  of  that  infinite  duration,  not  that  were 
really  distinguished  and  measured  out  by  this  real  existence,  and 
periodical  motions  of  bodies  that  were  appointed  from  the  be- 
ginning to  be  for  signs,  and  for  seasons,  and  for  days,  and  years, 
and  are  accordingly  our  measures  of  time ; — but  such  other  por- 
tions too  of  that  infinite  uniform  duration,  which  we,  upon  any 
occasion,  do  suppose  equal  to  certain  lengths  of  measured  time; 
and  so  consider  them  as  bounded  and  determined.  For  if  we 
should  suppose  the  creation  or  fall  of  the  angels  was  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Julian  period,  we  should  speak  properly  enough, 
and  should  be  understood,  if  we  said,  it  is  a  longer  time  since  the 
creation  of  angels  than  the  creation  of  the  world  by  seven  thou- 
sand six  hundred  and  forty  years  ;  whereby  we  would  mark  out 
so  much  of  that  undistinguished  duration  as  we  suppose  equal  to, 
and  would  have  admitted  seven  thousand  six  hundred  and  forty 
annual  revolutions  of  the  sun,  moving  at  the  rate  it  now  does. 
And  thus  likewise  we  sometimes  speak  of  place,  distance,  or 
bulk,  in  the  great  inane  beyond  the  confines  of  the  world,  when 
we  consider  so  much  of  that  space  as  is  equal  to,  or  capable  to 
receive  a  body  of  any  assigned  dimensions,  as  a  cubic  foot ;  or 
do  suppose  a  point  in  it  at  such  a  certain  distance  from  any  part 
of  the  universe. 

§  8.  THEY  BELONG  TO  ALL  BEINGS. 

Where  and  when  are  questions  belonging  to  all  finite  existences, 
and  are  by  us  always  reckoned  from  some  known  parts  of  this 
sensible  world,  and  from  some  certain  epochs  marked  out  to  us 
by  the  motions  observable  in  it.  Without  some  such  fixed  parts 
or  periods,  the  order  of  things  would  be  lost  to  our  finite  under- 
standings, in  the  boundless  invariable  oceans  of  duration  and 
expansion,  which  comprehend  in  them  all  finite  beings,  and  in 
their  full  extent  belong  only  to  the  Deity.  And  therefore  we 
are  not  to  wonder  that  we  comprehend  them  not.  and  do  so  often 
find  our  thoughts  at  a  loss,  when  we  would  consider  them  either 
abstractly  in  themselves,  or  as  any  way  attributed  to  the  first 
incomprehensible  Being.  But  when  applied  to  any  particular 
finite  beings,  the  extension  of  any  body  is  so  much  of  that  infinite 
space  as  the  bulk  of  the  body  takes  up ;  and  place  is  the  position 
of  any  body,  when  considered  at  a  certain  distance  from  some 


190       DURATION  AND  EXPANSION  CONSIDERED.    [BOOK  II- 

other.  As  the  idea  of  the  particular  duration  of  any  thing  is  an 
idea  of  that  portion  of  infinite  duration  which  passes  during  the 
existence  of  that  thing ;  so  the  time  when  the  thing  existed,  is 
the  idea  of  that  space  of  duration  which  passed  between  some 
known  and  fixed  period  of  duration,  and  the  being  of  that  thing. 
One  shows  the  distance  of  the  extremities  of  the  bulk  or  exist- 
ence of  the  same  thing,  as  that  it  is  a  foot  square,  or  lasted  two 
years  ;  the  other  shows  the  distance  of  it  in  place  or  existence 
irom  other  fixed  points  of  space  or  duration,  as  that  it  was  in  the 
middle  of  Lincoln's-inn-fields,  or  the  first  degree  of  Taurus,  and 
in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1671,  or  the  1000th  year  of  the  Julian 
period  :  all  which  distances  we  measure  by  preconceived  ideas 
of  certain  lengths  of  space  and  duration,  as  inches,  feet,  miles, 
and  degrees  ;  and  in  the  other,  minutes,  days,  and  years,  Sec. 

*)  9.    ALL  THE  TARTS  OF  EXTENSION  ARE  EXTENSION  ;    AND  ALL  Till 
PARTS  OF  DURATION  ARE  DURATION. 

There  is  one  thing  more  wherein  space  and  duration  have  a  great 
conformity  ;  and  that  is,  though  they  are  justly  reckoned  among 
our  simple  ideas,  yet  none  of  the  distinct  ideas  we  have  of  either 
is  without  all  manner  of  composition  j*   it  is  the  very  nature  of 

*  It  has  been  objected  to  Mr.  Locke,  that  if  space  consists  of  parts,  as  it  is  con- 
fessed in  this  place,  he  should  not  have  reckoned  it  in  the  number  of  simple  ideas ; 
because  it  seems  to  be  inconsistent  with  what  he  says  elsewhere,  that  a  simple 
idea  is  uncompounded,  and  contains  in  it  nothing  but  one  uniform  appearance  or 
conception  of  the  mind,  and  is  not  distinguishable  into  different  ideas.  It  is 
farther  objected,  that  Mr.  Locke  has  not  given  in  the  eleventh  chapter  of  the  second 
book,  where  he  begins  to  speak  of  simple  ideas,  an  exact  definition  of  what  he 
understands  by  the  words  simple  ideas.  To  these  difficulties  Mr.  Locke  answers 
thus  :  To  begin  with  the  last,  he  declares  that  he  has  not  treated  his  subject  in  an 
order  perfectly  scholastic,  having  not  had  much  familiarity  with  those  sort  of 
books  during  the.  writing  of  his,  and  not  remembering  at  all  the  method  in  which 
they  are  written  ;  and  therefore  his  readers  ought  not  to  expect  definitions  regu- 
larly placed  at  the  beginning  of  each  new  subject.  Mr.  Locke  contents  himself  to 
employ  the  principal  terms  that  he  uses,  so  that  from  his  use  of  them  the  reader  mo  y 
easily  comprehend  what  he  means  by  them.  But  with  respect  to  the  term  simple 
idea,  he  has  had  the  good  luck  to  define  that  in  the  place  cited  in  the  objection  ;  and 
therefore  there  is  no  reason  to  supply  that  defect.  The  question  then  is  to  know 
whether  the  idea  of  extension  agrees  with  this  definition  ?  which  will  effectually 
agree  to  it,  if  it  be  understood  in  the  sense  which  Mr.  Locke  had  principally  in  his 
view  ;  for  that  composition  which  he  designed  to  exclude  in  that  definition  was  a 
composition  ol  different  ideas  in  the  mind,  and  not  a  composition  of  the  same  kind 
in  a  thing  whose  essence  consists  in  having;  parts  of  the  same  kind,  where  you  can 
never  come  to  a  part  entirely  exempted  from  this  composition.  So  that  if  the 
idea  of  extension  consists  in  having  partes  extra  partes  (as  the  schools  speak,) 
it  is  always,  in  the  sense  of  Mr.  Locke,  a  simple  idea ;  because  the  idea  of  having 
partes  extra  partes  cannot  be  resolved  into  two  other  ideas.  For  the  remainder 
of  the  objection  made  to  Mr.  Locke  with  respect  to  the  nature  of  exten- 
sion, Mr.  Locke  was  aware  of  it,  as  may  be  seen  in  j  9,  chap.  15,  of  the  second 
book,  where  he  says,  that  "  the  least  portion  of  space  or  extension,  whereof 
we  have  a  clear  and  distinct  idea,  may  perhaps  be  the  fittest  to  be  con- 
sidered by  us  as  a  simple  idea  of  that  kind,  out  of  which  our  complex 
modes  of  space  and  extension  are  made  up."  So  that,  according  to  Mr.  Locke, 
it  may  very  fitly  be  called  a  simple  idea,  since  it  is  the  least  idea  of  space 
that  the  mind  can  form  to  itself,  and  that  cannot  be  divided  by  the  mind  into  any 
>ess,  whereof  it  has  in  itself  any  determined  perception.     From  whence  it  follows. 


•  if.    XIV. J       DURATION  AND  EXPANSJ0N   CONSIDERED.  191 

both  of  them  to  consist  of  parts  :  but  their  parts  being  all  of  the 
same  kind,  and  without  the  mixture  of  any  other  idea,  hinder 
them  not  from  having  a  place  among  simple  ideas.  Could  the 
mind,  as  in  number,  come  to  so  small  a  part  of  extension  or 
duration  as  excluded  divisibility,  that  would  be,  as  it  were,  the 
indivisible  unit  or  idea;  by  repetition  of  which  it  would  make  its 
more  enlarged  ideas  of  extension  and  duration.  But  since  the 
mind  is  not  able  to  frame  an  idea  of  any  space  without  parts, 
instead  thereof  it  makes  use  of  the  common  measures,  which  by 
familiar  use,  in  each  country,  have  imprinted  themselves  on  the 
memory,  (as  inches  and  feet,  or  cubits  and  parasangs;  and  so 
seconds,  minutes,  hours,  days,  and  years  in  duration  :)  the  mind 
makes  use,  1  say,  of  such  ideas  as  these,  as  simple  ones  ;  and 
these  are  the  component  parts  of  larger  ideas,  which  the  mind, 
upon  occasion,  makes  by  the  addition  of  such  known  lengths, 
which  it  is  acquainted  with.  On  the  other  side,  the  ordinary 
smallest  measure  we  have  of  either  is  looked  on  as  a  unit  in 
number,  when  the  mind  by  division  would  reduce  them  into  less 
fractions.  Though  on  both  sides,  both  in  addition  and  division, 
either  of  space  or  duration,  when  the  idea  under  consideration 
becomes  very  big  or  very  small,  its  precise  bulk  becomes  very 
obscure  and  confused  ;  and  it  is  the  number  of  its  repeated  addi- 
tions or  divisions  that  alone  remains  clear  and  distinct,  as  will 
easily  appear  to  any  one  who  will  let. his  thoughts  loose  in  the 
vast  expansion  of  space,  or  divisibility  of  matter.  Kvery  part 
of  duration  is  duration  too  ;  and  every  part  of  extension  is 
extension,  both  of  them  capable  of  addition  or  division  in  infini- 
tum. But  the  least  portions  of  either  of  them,  whereof  we  have 
clear  and  distinct  ideas,  may  perhaps  be  fittest  to  be  considered 
by  us  as  the  simple  ideas  of  that  kind,  out  of  which  our  complex 
modes  of  space,  extension,  and  duration,  are  made  up,  and  into 
which  they  can  again  be  distinctly  resolved.  Such  a  small  part 
in  duration  may  be  called  a  moment,  and  is  the  time  of  one  idea 
in  our  minds  in  the  train  of  their  ordinary  succession  there.  The 
other  wanting  a  proper  name,  1  know  not  whether  I  may  be 
allowed  to  call  a  sensible  point,  meaning  thereby  the  least  par- 
ticle of  matter  or  Space  we  can  discern,  which  is  ordinarily  about 
a  minute,  and  to  the  sharpest  eyes  seldom  less  than  thirty  seconds 
of  a  circle,  whereof  the  eye  is  the  centre. 

ihal.it  is  to  the  mind  one  simple  idea  ;  and  that  is  sufficient  to  take  away  this  ob- 
jection: for  it  is  not  the  design  of  Mr.  Locke,  in  this  place,  to  discourse  of"  any 
thing  but  concerning  the  idea  of  the  mind.  But  if"  this  is  not  sufficient  to  clear 
the  difficulty,  Mr.  Locke  hath  nothing  more  to  add,  but  that  if  the  idea  of  exlea- 
so  peculiar  that  it.  cannot  exactly  agree  with  the  definition  that  he  has 
given  of  those  simple  ideas,  so  that  il  differs  in  some  maimer  from  all  others  of 
that  kiii'l.  he  thinks,  it  is  better  to  leave  il  there  exposed  to  this  difficulty,  than  to 
make  a  new  division  in  his  favour.  It  is  enough  for  Mr.  Locke  that  his  meaning 
ran  be  understood.  If  is  very  common  to  observe  intelligible  discourses  spoiled 
by  too  much  subtlety  in  nice  divisions.  We  ought  to  put  things  together  as  well 
ai  we  can,  dectrina  cnusa ;  but,  after  all,  several  things  will  not  be  bundled  up 
her  under  our  terms  and  ways  of  speaking. 


11)2  DURATION  AND  EXPANSION  CONSIDERED.         [BOOK  II. 

§    10.    THEIR  PARTS  INSEPARABLE. 

Expansion  and  duration  have  this  farther  agreement,  that 
though  they  are  both  considered  by  us  as  having  parts,  yet  their 
parts  are  not  separable  one  (*ro;n  another,  no,  not  even  in  thought : 
though  the  parts  of  bodies  from  whence  we  take  our  measure  of 
the  one,  and  the  parts  of  motion,  or  rather  the  succession  of  ideas 
in  our  minds,  from  whence  we  take  the  measure  of  the  other, 
may  be  interrupted  and  separated  ;  as  the  one  is  often  by  rest, 
and  the  other  is  by  sleep,  which  we  call  rest  too. 

§11.    DURATION  IS  AS  A  LINE,  EXPANSION  AS  A  SOLID. 

But  there  is  this  manifest  difference  between  them  ;  that  the 
ideas  of  length,  which  we  have  of  expansion,  are  turned  every 
way,  and  so  make  figure,  and  breadth,  and  thickness ;  but  dura- 
tion is  but  as  it  were  the  length  of  one  straight  line,  extended  in 
infinitum,  not  capable  of  multiplicity,  variation,  or  figure  ;  but  is 
one  common  measure  of  all  existence  whatsoever,  wherein  all 
thiegs,  whilst  they  exist,  equally  partake.  For  this  present  mo- 
ment is  common  to  all  things  that  are  now  in  being,  and  equally 
comprehends  that  part  of  their  existence,  as  much  as  if  they 
were  all  but  one  single  being ;  and  we  may  truly  say,  they  all 
exist  in  the  same  moment  of  time.  Whether  angels  and  spirits 
have  any  analogy  to  this,  in  respect  of  expansion,  is  beyond  my 
comprehension  :  and  perhaps  for  us,  who  have  understandings 
and  comprehensions  suited  to  our  own  preservation, .  and  the 
ends  of  our  own  being,  but  not  to  the  reality  and  extent  of  all 
other  beings  ;  it  is  near  as  hard  to  conceive  any  existence,  or  to 
have  an  idea  of  any  real  being,  with  a  perfect  negation  of  all 
manner  of  expansion — as  it  is  to  have  the  idea  of  any  real  exist- 
ence with  the  perfect  negation  of  all  manner  of  duration  ;  and 
therefore  what  spirits  have  to  do  with  space,  or  how  they  com- 
municate in  it,  we  know  not.  All  that  we  know  is,  that  bodies 
do  each  singly  possess  its  proper  portion  of  it,  according  to  the 
extent  of  solid  parts  ;  and  thereby  exclude  all  other  bodies  from 
having  any  share  in  that  particular  portion  of  space,  whilst  it 
remains  there. 

§  12.  DURATION  HAS  NEVER  TWO  PARTS  TOGETHER,  EXPANSION  ALL 

TOGETHER. 

Duration,  arid  time,  which  is  a  part  of  it,  is  the  idea  we  have 
of  perishing  distance,  of  which  no  two  parts  exist  together,  but 
follow  each  other  in  succession ;  as  expansion  is  the  idea  of 
lasting  distance,  all  whose  parts  exist  together,  and  are  not  capa- 
ble of  succession.  And  therefore,  though  we  cannot  conceive 
any  duration  without  succession,  nor  can  put  it  together  in  our 
thoughts,  that  any  being  does  now  exist  to-morrow,  or  possess 
at  once  more  than  the  present  moment  of  duration  ;  yet  we  can 
conceive  the  eternal  duration  of  the  Almighty  far  different  from 


that  of  man,  or  aiiy  other  finite  being;  because  man  compre- 
hends not  in  his  knowledge,  or  power,  all  past  and  future  things  ■„ 
his  thoughts  are  but  of  yesterday,  and  he  knows  not  what  to- 
morrow will  bring  forth.  What  is  once  past  he  can  never  recall, 
and  what  is  yet  to  come  he  cannot  make  present.  What  I  say  of 
man  1  say  of  ail  finite  beings  ;  who,  though  they  may  far  exceed 
man  in  knowledge  and  power,  yet  arc  no  more  than  the  meanest 
creature,  in  comparison  with  God  himself.  Finite  of  any  mag- 
nitude holds  not  any  proportion  to  infinite.  God's  infinite,  dura- 
tion being  accompanied  with  infinite  knowledge  and  infinite  power, 
he  sees  all  things  past  and  to  come ;  and  they  are  no  more^listanf 
from  his  knowledge,  no  farther  removed  from  his  sight,  than  the 
present :  they  all  lie  under  the  same  view ;  and  there  is  nothing 
which  he  cannot  make  exist  each  moment  he  pleases.  For  the 
existence  of  all  things  depending  upon  his  good  pleasure,  all 
things  exist  every  moment  that  he  thinks  fit  to  have  them  exist. 
To  conclude,  expansion  and  duration  do  mutually  embrace  and 
comprehend  each  other ;  every  part  of  space  being  in  every  part 
of  duration,  and  every  part  of  duration  in  every  part  of  expan- 
sion. Such  a  combination  of  two  distinct  ideas  is,  I  suppose, 
scarce  to  be  found  in  all  that  great  variety  we  do  or  can  conceive.. 
and  may  afford  matter  to  farther  speculation. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
OF  NUMBER, 


<*  1.    NUMBER.  THE  SIMPLEST  AND  MOST    UNIVERSAL  IDEA 

Among  all  the  ideas  we  have,  as  there  is  none  suggested  to 
I  he  mind  by  more  ways,  so  there  is  none  more  simple  than  that  of 
unity,  or  one.  It  has  no  shadow  of  variety  or  composition  in  it : 
every  object  our  senses  are  employed  about,  every  idea  in  our 
understandings,  every  thought  of  our  minds,  brings  this  idea  along 
with  it ;  and  therefore  it  is  the  most  intimate  to  our  thoughts,  as 
well  as  it  is,  in  its  agreement  to  all  other  things,  the  most  univer- 
sal idea  we  have.  For  number  applies  itself  to  men,  angels, 
actions,  thoughts,  every  thing  that  either  doth  exist  or  can  be 
imagined. 

§  2.    ITS  MODES  MADE  BY  ADDITION. 

By  repeating  this  idea  in  our  minds,  and  adding  the  repetitions 
together,  we  come  by  the  complex  ideas  of  the  modes  of  it. 
Thus  by  adding  one  to  one,  we  have  the  complex  idea  of  a 
couple  ;  by  putting  twelve  units  together,  we  have  the  com- 
plex idea  of  a  dozen  ;  and  so  of  a  score,  or  a  million,  or  any" 
other  number* 

VOt.  I.  95 


194  NUMBER  [BOOK  I  J, 

§  3.    EACH  MODE  DISTINCT. 

The  simple  modes  of  numbers  are  of  all  other  the.  most  dis- 
tinct ;  every  the  least  variation,  which  is  an  unit,  making  each 
combination  as  clearly  different  from  that  which  approacheth 
nearest  to  it,  as  the  most  remote  :  two  being  as  distinct  from  one 
as  two  hundred  ;  and  the  idea  of  two  as  distinct  from  the  idea  of 
three  as  the  magnitude  of  the  whole  earth  is  from  that  of  a  mite. 
This  is  not  so  in  other  simple  modes,  in  which  it  is  not  so  easy, 
nor  perhaps  possible  for  us  to  distinguish  betwixt  two  approach- 
ing ideas,  which  yet  are  really  different.  For  who  will  undertake 
to  find  a  difference  between  the  white  of  this  paper,  and  that  of 
the  next  degree  to  it ;  or  can  form  distinct  ideas  of  every  the 
least  excess  in  extension. 

\   §  4,    THEREFORE  DEMONSTRATIONS  IN    NUMBERS    THE  MOST  PRECISE. 

The  clearness  and  distinctness  of  each  mode  of  number  from 
all  others,  even  those  that  approach  nearest,  makes  me  apt  to 
think  that  demonstrations  in  numbers,  if  they  are  not  more  evi- 
dent and  exact  than  in  extension,  yet  they  are  more  general  in 
their  use,  and  more  determinate  in  their  application  ;  because 
the  ideas  of  numbers  are  more  precise  and  distinguishable  than 
in  extension,  where  every  equality  and  excess  are  not  so  easy  to 
be  observed  or  measured  ;  because  our  thoughts  cannot  in  space 
arrive  at  any  determined  smallness,  beyond  which  it  cannot  go, 
as  an  unit;  and  therefore  the  quantity  or  proportion  of  any  the 
least  excess  cannot  be  discovered  :  which  is  clear  otherwise  in 
number,  where,  a?  has  been  said,  ninety-one  is  as  distinguishable 
from  ninety  as  from  .nine  thousand,  though  ninety-one  be  the  next 
immediate  excess  to  ninety.  But  it  is  not  so  in  extension,  where 
whatsoever  "is  more  than  just  a  foot  or  an  inch,  is  not  distinguish- 
able from  the  standard  of  a  foot  or  an  inch  :  and  in  lines  which 
appear  of  an  equal  length,  one  may  be  longer  than  the  other  by 
innumerable  parts  ;  nor  can  any  one  assign  an  angle  which  shall 
be  the  next  biggest  to  a  right  one. 

&  5.  NAMES  NECESSARY  TO  NUMBERS. 

By  the  repeating,  as  has  been  said,  the  idea  of  an  unit,  and 
joining  it  to  another  unit,  we  make  thereof  one  collective  idea, 
marked  by  the  name  two.  And  whosoever  can  do  this,  and  pro- 
ceed on  still,  adding  one  more  to  the  last  collective  idea  which  he 
had  of  any  number,  and  give  a  name  to  it,  may  count  or  have 
ideas  for  several  collections  of  units,  distinguished  one  from 
another,  as  far  as  he  hath  a  series  of  names  for  following  num- 
bers, and  a  memory  to  retain  that  series,  with  their  several 
names  ;  all  numeration  being  but  still  the  adding  of  one  unit  to 
more,  and  giving  to  the  whole  together,  as  comprehended  in  one 
idea,  a  new  or  distinct  name  or  sign,  whereby  to  know  it  from 
those  before  and  after,  and  distinguish  it  from  every  smaller  or 
greater  multitude  of  units.     So  that  he  that  can  add  one  to  ope. 


v  VI.  J  -i    MJER.  195 

and  so  to  two,  and  so  go  on  with  his  talc,  taking  siill  with  him  the 
distinct  names  belonging  to  every  progression  ;  and  so  again,  by 
subtracting  an  unit  from  each  collection,  retreat  and  lessen  them  ; 
is  capable  of  all  the  ideas  of  numbers  within  the  compass  of  his 
language,  or  for  which  he"  hath  names,  though  not  perhaps  of 
more.  For  the  several  simple  modes  of  numbers,  being  in  our 
minds  but  so  many  combinations  of  units,  which  have  no  variety, 
nor  are  capable  of  any  other  difference  but  more  or  less,  names 
or  marks  for  each  distinct  combination  seem  more  necessary  than 
in  any  other  sort  of  ideas.  For  without  such  names  or  marks 
\\e  can  hardly  well  make  use  of  numbers  in  reckoning,  espe- 
cially where  the  combination  is  made  up  of  any  great  multitude 
of  units  ;  which  put  together  without  a  name  or  mark,  to  distin- 
guish that  precise  collection,  will  hardly  be  kept  from  being  a 
heap  in  confusion. 

§  6. 
This  1  think  to  be  the  reason  why  some  Americans  I  have 
.spoken  with,  (who  were  otherwise  of  quick  and  rational  Darts 
enough,)  could  not,  as  we  do,  by  any  means  count  to  one  thou- 
sand, nor  had  any  distinct  idea  of  that  number,  though  they 
could  reckon  very  well  to  twenty  ;  because  their  language  being 
scanty,  and  accommodated  only  to  the  few  necessaries  of  a  needy 
simple  life,  unacquainted  either  with  trade  or  mathematics,  had 
no  words  in  it  to  stand  for  one  thousand  ;  so  that  when  they  were 
discoursed  with  of  those  great  numbers,  they  would  show  the 
hairs  of  their  head  to  express  a  great  multitude  which  they  could 
not  number ;  which  inability,  1  suppose,  proceeded  from  their 
want  of  names.  The  Tououpinambos  had  no  names  for  numbers 
above  five  ;  any  number  beyond  that  they  made  out  by  showing 
their  lingers,  and  the  fingers  of  others  who  were  present.*  And 
I  doubt  not  but  we  ourselves  might  distinctly  number  in  words  a 
great  deal  farther  than  we  usually  do,  would  we  find  out  but 
some  fit  denomination  to  signify  them  by ;  whereas  in  the  way 
we  take  now  to  name  them  by  millions  of  millions  of  millions, 
&c.  it  is  hard  to  go  beyond  eighteen,  or  at  most  four  and  twenty 
decimal  progressions,  without  confusion.  But  to  show  how  much 
distinct  names  conduce  to  our  well  reckoning,  or  having  useful 
ideas  of  numbers,  let  us  set  all  these  following  figures  in  one  con- 
tinued line,  as  the  marks  of  one  number  ;  v.  g. 

Nonillions.     Octillions.  Septillions.  Sextillions.  Quint  illions. 

857324         162486         345896  437918           423147 

Quatrillions.   Trillions.  Billions.  Ah/lions.            Units. 

248106         235421         261734  368149          623137 

The  ordinary  way  of  naming  this  number  in  English  will  be 
*he  often  repeating  of  millions,  of  millions,  of  millions,  of  mil- 

Hist'oitfe  ,1'nn  vnvii^p.  f:iit  enla  tewedfl  Braail.par  Jennde  Lery,c.20.  $J-J. 


iyo  a.umlkk;  [book  a-. 

lions,  of  millions,  of  millions,  of  millions,  of  millions  (which  is 
the  denomination  of  the  second  six  figures.)  In  which  way  it 
will  be  very  hard  to  have  any  distinguishing  notions  of  this  num- 
ber :  but  whether,  by  giving  every  six  figures  a  new  and  orderly 
denomination,  these,  and  perhaps  a  great  many  more  figures  in 
progression,  might  not  easily  be  counted  distinctly,  and  ideas  of 
them  both  got  more  easily  to  ourselves,  and  more  plainly  signified 
to  others,  1  leave  it  to  be  considered.  This  1  mention  only  to 
show  how  necessary  distinct  names  are  to  numbering,  without 
pretending  to  introduce  new  ones  of  my  invention. 

§  7.    WHY  CHILDREN  NUMBER  NOT  EARLIER. 

Thus  children,  either  for  want  of  names  to  mark  the  several 
progressions  of  numbers,  or  not  having  yet  the  faculty  to  collect 
scattered  ideas  into  complex  ones,  and  range  them  in  a  regular 
order,  and  so  retain  them  in  their  memories,  as  is  necessary  to 
reckoning  ;  do  not  begin  to  number  very  early,  nor  proceed  in  it 
very  far  or  steadily,  till  a  good  while  after  they  are  well  furnished 
with,good  store  of  other  ideas  ;  and  one  may  often  observe  them 
discourse  and  reason  pretty  well,  and  have  very  clear  conceptions 
of  several  other  things,  before  they  can  tell  twenty.  And  some, 
through  the  default  of  their  memories,  who  cannot  retain  the 
several  combinations  of  numbers,  with  their  names  annexed  in 
their  distinct  orders,  and  the  dependence  of  so  long  a  train  of 
numeral  progressions,  and  their  relation  one  to  another,  are  not 
able  all  their  lifetime  to  reckon  or  regularly  go  over  any  mode- 
rate series  of  numbers.  For  he  that  will  count  twenty,  or  have 
any  idea  of  that  number,  must  know  that  nineteen  went  before, 
with  the  distinct  name  or  sign  of  every  one  of  them,  as  they  stand 
marked  in  their  order ;  for  wherever  this  fails,  a  gap  is  made,  the 
chain  breaks,  and  the  progress  in  numbering  can  go  no  farther. 
So  that  to  reckon  right,  it  is  required,  1.  That  the  mind  distin- 
guish carefully  two  ideas,  which  are  different  one  from  another 
only  by  the  addition  or  subtraction  of  one  unit.  2.  That  it  retain 
in  memory  the  names  or  marks  of  the  several  combinations,  from 
an  unit  to  that  number ;  and  that  not  confusedly,  and  at  random, 
but  in  that  exact  order  that  the  numbers  follow  one  another  :  in 
either  of  which,  if  it  trips,  the  whole  business  of  numbering  will 
be  disturbed,  and  there  will  remain  only  the  confused  idea  of 
multitude,  but  the  ideas  necessary  to  distinct  numeration  will  not 
be  attained  to. 

§  8.  NUMBER  MEASURES  ALL  MEASURABLES. 

This  farther  is  observable  in  numbers,  that  it  is  that  which  the 
mind  makes  use  of  in  measuring  all  things  that  by  us  are  measura- 
ble, which  principally  are  expansion  and  duration ;  and  our 
idea  of  infinity,  even  when  applied  to  those,  seems  to  be  nothing 
but  the  infinity  of  number.  For  what  else  are  our  ideas  of  eter- 
nity and  immensity,  but  the  repeated  additions  of  certain  ideas 


QH.   XVII. j  INFINITY.  107 

of  imagined  parts  of  duration  and  expansion,  with  the  infinity  of 
number,  in  which  we  can  come  to  no  end  of  addition  ?  For  such 
an  inexhaustible  stock,  number  (of  all  other  our  ideas,)  most 
clearly  furnishes  us  with,  as  is  obvious  to  every  one.  For  let  a  man 
collect  into  one  sum  as  great  a  number  as  he  pleases,  this  multi- 
tude, how  great  soever,  lessens  not  one  jot  the  power  of  adding 
to  it,  or  brings  him  any  nearer  the  end  of  the  inexhaustible  stock 
of  number,  where  still  there  remains  as  much  to  be  added  as  if 
none  were  taken  out.  And  this  endless  addition  or  addibility  (if 
any  one  like  the  word  better)  of  numbers,  so  apparent  to  the 
mind,  is  that,  I  think,  which  gives  us  the  clearest  and  most  dis- 
tinct idea  of  infinity :  of  which  more  in  the  following  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

OF  INFINITY. 

§   1.    INFINITY,  IN  ITS  ORIGINAL  INTENTION,  ATTRIBUTED  TO  SPACE, 
DURATION,   AND  NUMBER. 

He  that  wjuld  know  what  kind  of  idea  it  is  to  which  we  give 
the  name  of  infinity,  cannot  do  it  better  than  by  considering  to 
what  infinity  is  by  the  mind  more  immediately  attributed,  and  then 
how  the  mind  comes  to  frame  it. 

Finite  and  infinite  seem  to  me  to  be  looked  upon  by  the  mind 
as  the  modes  of  quantity,  and  to  be  attributed  primarily  in  their 
first  designation  only  to  those  things  which  have  parts,  and  are 
capable  of  increase  or  diminution,  by  the  addition  or  subtraction 
of  any  the  least  part ;  and  such  are  the  ideas  of  space,  duration; 
and  number,  which  we  have  considered  in  the  foregoing  chapters. 
It  is  true,  that  we  cannot  but  be  assured,  that  the  great  God,  of 
whom  and  from  whom  are  all  things,  is  incomprehensibly  infinite  : 
but  yet  when  we  apply  to  that  first  and  supreme  Being  our  idea 
of  infinite,  in  our  weak  and  narrow  thoughts,  we  do  it  primarily 
in  respect  of  his  duration  and  ubiquity  ;  and,  I  think,  more  figu- 
ratively to  his  power,  wisdom,  and  goodness,  and  other  attributes, 
which  are  properly  inexhaustible  and  incomprehensible,  &c.  For, 
when  we  call  them  infinite,  we  have  no  other  idea  of  this  infinity, 
but  what  carries  with  it  some  reflection  on,  and  imitation  of,  that 
number  or  extent  of  the  acts  or  objects  of  God's  power,  wisdom, 
and  goodness,  which  can  never  be  supposed  so  great  or  so  mairy, 
which  these  attributes  will  not  always  surmount  and  exceed,  let 
us  multiply  them  in  our  thoughts  as  far  as  we  can  ;  with  all  the 
infinity  of  endless  number.  I  do  not  pretend  to  say  how  these 
attributes  are  in  God,  who  is  infinitely  beyond  the  reach  of  our 
narrow  capacities.     They  do.  without  doubt,  contain  in  them  all 


198  INFINITY.  [BOOK    U, 

possible  perfection  :  but  this,  I  say,  is  our  way  of  conceiving  them, 
and  these  our  ideas  of  their  infinity. 

§  2.    THE  IDEA  OF  FINITE  EASILY  GOT. 

Finite  then,  and  infinite,  being  by  the  mind  looked  on  as  modi- 
fications of  expansion  and  duration,  the  next  thing  to  be  consi- 
dered is,  how  the  mind  comes  by  them.  As  for  the  idea  of  finite, 
there  is  no  great  difficulty.  The  obvious  portions  of  extension, 
that  affect  our  senses,  carry  with  them  into  the  mind  the  idea  of 
finite;  and  the  ordinary  periods  of  succession,  whereby  we  mea- 
sure time  and  duration,  as  hours,  days,  and  years,  are  bounded 
lengths.  The  difficulty  is,  how  we  come  by  those  boundless 
ideas  of  eternity  and  immensity,  since  the  objects  we  converse, 
with  come  so  much  short  of  any  approach  or  proportion  to  that 
largeness. 

§  3.    HOW  WE  COME  BY  THE  IDEA  OF  INFINITY. 

Every  one  that  has  any  idea  of  any  stated  lengths  of  space, 
as  a  foot,  finds  that  he  can  repeat  that  idea  ;  and,  joining  it  to  the 
former,  make  the  idea  of  two  feet ;  and  by  the  addition  of  a  third, 
three  feet ;  and  so  on,  without  ever  coming  to  an  end  of  his  addi- 
tion, whether  of  the  same  idea  of  a  foot,  or  if  he  pleases  of 
doubling  it,  or  any  other  idea  he  has  of  any  length,  as  a  mile,  or 
diameter  of  the  earth,  or  of  the  orbis  magnus :  for  whichsoever  of 
these  he  takes,  and  how  often  soever  he  doubles,  or  any  otherwise 
multiplies  it,  he  finds  that  after  he  has  continued  his  doubling  in 
his  thoughts,  and  enlarged  his  idea  as  much  as  he  pleases,  he  has 
no  more  reason  to  stop,  nor  is  one  jot  nearer  the  end  of  such 
addition,  than  he  was  at  first  setting  out.  The  power  of  enlarging 
his  idea  of  space  by  farther  additions,  remaining  still  the  same,  he 
hence  takes  the  idea  of  infinite  space. 

§  4.  OUR  IDEA  OF  SPACE  BOUNDLESS. 

This,  I  think,  is  the  way  whereby  the  mind  gets  the  idea  of 
infinite  space.  It  is  a  quite  different  consideration  to  examine 
whether  the  mind  has  the  idea  of  such  a  boundless  space  actually 
existing,  since  our  ideas  are  not  always  proofs  of  the  existence  of 
things  ;  but  yet,  since  this  comes  here  in  our  way,  I  suppose  1 
may  say,  that  we  are  apt  to  think  that  space  in  itself  is  actually 
boundless  :  to  which  imagination,  the  idea  of  space  or  expansion 
of  itself  naturally  leads  us.  For  it  being  considered  by  us  either 
as  the  extension  of  body,  or  as  existing  by  itself,  without  any 
solid  matter,  taking  it  up  (for  of  such  a  void  space  we  have  not 
only  the  idea,  but  1  have  proved,  as  I  think,  from  the  motion  of 
body,  its  necessary  existence,)  it  is  impossible  the  mind  should  be 
ever  able  to  find  or  suppose  any  end  of  it,  or  be  stopped  any 
where  in  its  progress  in  this  space,  how  far  soever  it  extends  its 
thoughts.  Any  bounds  made  with  body,  even  adamantine  walls, 
are  so  far  from  putting  a  stop  to  the  mind  in  its  farther  progress 


Clf.  XVII.  j  INPINIII'.  199 

in  space  and  extension,  that  it  rather  facilitates  and  enlarges  it ; 
for  so  far  as  that  body  reaches,  so  far  no  one  can  doubt  of  exten- 
sion :  and  when  we  are  come  to  the  utmost  extremity  of  body, 
what  is  there  that  can  there  put  a  stop  and  satisfy  the  mind  that 
it  is  at  the  end  of  space,  when  it  perceives  that  it  is  not ;  nay. 
when  it.  is  satisfied  that  body  itself  can  move  into  it  ?  For  if  it  bo 
necessary  for  the  motion  of  body,  that  there  should  be  an  empty 
space,  though  ever  so  little,  here  among  bodies ;  and  if  it  be 
possible  for  body  to  move  in  or  through  that  empty  space  (nay,  it 
is  impossible  for  any  particle  of  matter  to  move  but  into  an  empty 
space,)  the  same  possibility  of  a  body's  moving  into  a  void  space, 
beyond  the  utmost  bounds  of  body,  as  well  as  into  a  void  space 
interspersed  among  bodies,  will  always  remain  clear  and  evident : 
the  idea  of  empty  pure  space,  whether  within  or  beyond  the 
•  onfines  of  all  bodies,  being  exactly  the  same,  differing  not  in 
nature,  though  in  bulk ;  and  there  being  nothing  to  hinder  body 
from  moving  into  it.  So  that  wherever  the  mind  places  itself  by 
any  thought,  either  among  or  remote  from  all  bodies,  it  can  in 
this  uniform  idea  of  space  nowhere  find  any  bounds,  any  end ;  and 
so  must  necessarily  conclude  it,  by  the  very  nature  and  idea  of 
each  part  of  it,  to  be  actually  infinite. 

§  5.    AND  SO  OF  DURATION. 

As  by  the  power  we  find  in  ourselves  of  repeating,  as  often  as 
we  will,  any  idea  of  space,  we  get  the  idea  of  immensity  ;  so, 
by  being  able  to  repeat  the  idea  of  any  length  of  duration  we 
have  in  our  minds,  with  all  the  endless  addition  of  number,  we 
<  ome  by  the  idea  of  eternity.  For  we  find  in  ourselves,  we  can 
no  more  come  to  an  end  of  such  repeated  ideas,  than  we  can 
come  to  the  end  of  number,  which  every  one  perceives  he  cannot. 
But  here  again  it  is  another  question,  quite  different  from  our 
having  an  idea  of  eternity,  to  know  whether  there  were  any  real 
being,  whose  duration  has  been  eternal.  And  as  to  this,  I  say, 
he  that  considers  something  now  existing,  must  necessarily  come 
to  something  eternal.  But  having  spoke  of  this  in  another  place, 
I  shall  say  here  no  more  of  it,  but  proceed  on  to  some  other  con- 
siderations of  our  idea  of  infinity. 

§  6.    WHY  OTHER  IDEAS  ARE  NOT  CAPABLE  Or  INFINITY'. 

If  it  be  so,  that  our  idea  of  infinity  be  got  from  the  power  we 
observe  in  ourselves  of  repeating  without  end  our  own  ideas  ; 
it  may  be  demanded,  "  why  we  do  not  attribute  infinite  to  other 
ideas,  as  well  as  those  of  space  and  duration ;"  since  they  may 
be  as  easily  and  as  often  repeated  in  our  minds  as  the  other  :  and 
vet  nobody  ever  thinks  of  infinite  sweetness,  or  infinite  white- 
ness, though  he  can  repeat  the  idea  of  sweet  or  white  as  fre- 
quently as  those  of  a  yard,  or  a  day  ?  To  which  I  answer,  all 
i he  ideas  that  arc  considered  as  having  parts,  and  are  capable 
<>f  increase  by  the  addition  of  any  equal  or  less  parts,  afford  ns 


200  INFIMTi.  [BOOK  If. 

fey  their  repetition  the  idea  of  infinity  ;  because  with  this  endless 
repetition  there  is  continued  an  enlargement,  of  which  there 
can  be  no  end.  But  in  other  ideas  it  is  not  so  ;  for  to  the  largest 
idea  of  extension  or  duration  that  I  at  present  have,  the  addition 
of  any  the  least  part  makes  an  increase  ;  but  to  the  perfectest 
idea  1  have  of  the  whitest  whiteness,  if  I  add  another  of  a  less 
or  equal  whiteness  (and  of  a  whiter  than  I  have  I  cannot  add 
the  idea,)  it  makes  no  increase,  and  enlarges  not  my  idea  at  all ; 
and  therefore  the  different  ideas  of  whiteness,  &c.  are  called  de- 
grees. For  those  ideas  that  consist  of  pai  is  are  capable  of  being 
augmented  by  every  addition  of  the  least  part ;  but  if  you  take  the 
idea  of  white,  which  one  parcel  of  snow  yielded  yesterday  to  our 
sight,  and  another  idea  of  white  from  another  parcel  of  snow  you 
see  to-day,  and  put  them  together  in  your  mind,  they  embody,  as 
it  were,  and  run  into  one,  and  the  idea  of  whiteness  is  not  at  all 
increased  ;  and  if  we  add  a  less  degree  of  whiteness  to  a  greater,, 
we  are  so  far  from  increasing  that  we  diminish  it.  Those  ideas 
that  consist  not  of  parts  cannot  be  augmented  to  what  proportion 
men  please,  or  be  stretched  beyond  what  they  have  received  by 
their  senses,  but  space,  duration,  and  number,  being  capable  of 
increase  by  repetition,  leave  in  the  mind  an  idea  of  endless  room 
for  more :  nor  can  we  conceive  any  where  a  stop  to  a  farther 
addition  or  progression,  and  so  those  ideas  alone  lead  our  minds 
towards  the  thought  of  infinity. 

§  7."  DIFFERENCE  BETWEEN  INFINITY  OF  SPACE,  AND  SPACE  INFINITE. 

Though  our  idea  of  infinity  arise  from  the  contemplation  of 
quantity,  and  the  endless  increase  the  mind  is  able  to  make  in 
quantity,  by  the  repeated  additions  of  what  portions  thereof  it 
pleases  ;  yet  I  guess  we  cause  great  confusion  in  our  thoughts, 
when  we  join  infinity  to  any  supposed  idea  in  quantity  the  mind 
can  be  thought  to  have,  and  so  discourse  or  reason  about  an  infi- 
nite quantity,  viz.  an  infinite  space,  or  an  infinite  duration.  For 
our  idea  of  infinity  being,  as  I  think,  an  endless  growing  idea  ; 
but  the  idea  of  any  quantity  the  mind  has,  being  at  that  time 
terminated  in  that  idea  (for  be  it  as  great  as  it  will,  it  can  be  no 
greater  than  it  is,)  to  join  infinity  to  it,  is  to  adjust  a  standing 
measure  to  a  growing  bulk  ;  and  therefore  I  think  it  is  not  an 
insignificant  subtlety,  if  I  say  that  we  are  carefully  to  distinguish 
between  the  idea  of  the  infinity  of  space,  and  the  idea  of  a  space 
infinite  :  the  first  is  nothing  but  a  supposed  endless  progression 
of  the  mind,  over  what  repeated  ideas  of  space  it  pleases  ;  but  to 
have  actually  in  the  mind  the  idea  of  a  space  infinite,  is  to  sup- 
pose the  mind  already  passed  over,  and  actually  to  have  a  view 
of  all  those  repeated  ideas  of  space,  which  an  endless  repetition 
can  never  totally  represent  to  it ;  which  carries  in  it  a  plain 
contradiction. 


1.11.   XVII.]  lMlM'ii  iOl 

^  8.    WE  HAVE  NO  IDEA  OK  INFINITE  SPACE. 

This,  perhaps,  will  be  a  little  plainer,  if  we  consider  it  in  num- 
bers. The  infinity  of  numbers,  to  the  end  of  whose  addition 
every  one  perceives  there  is  no  approach,  easily  appears  to  any 
one  that  reflects  on  it ;  but  how  clear  soever  this  idea  of  the  in- 
finity of  number  be,  there  is  nothing  yet  more  evident,  than  the 
absurdity  of  the  actual  idea  of  an  infinite  number.  Whatsoever 
positive  ideas  we  have  in  our  minds  of  any  space,  duration,  or 
number,  let  them  be  ever  so  great,  they  are  still  finite ;  but  when 
we  suppose  an  inexhaustible  remainder,  from  which  we  remove 
all  bounds,  and  wherein  we  allow  the  mind  an  endless  progression 
of  thought,  without  ever  completing  the  idea,  there  Ave  have  our 
idea  of  infinity  ;  which  though  it  seems  to  be  pretty  clear  when 
we  consider  nothing  else  in  it  but  the  negation  of  an  end,  yet 
when  we  would  frame  in  our  minds  the  idea  of  an  infinite  space 
or  duration,  that  idea  is  very  obscure  and  confused,  because  it  is 
made  up  of  two  parts,  very  different,  if  not  inconsistent.  For 
let  a  man  frame  in  his  mind  an  idea  of  any  space  or  number  as 
great  as  he  will,  it  is  plain  the  mind  rests  and  terminates  in  that 
idea,  which  is  contrary  to  the  idea  of  infinity,  which  consists  in 
a  supposed  endless  progression.  And  therefore  I  think  it  is,  that 
we  are  so  easily  confounded,  when  we  come  to  argue  and  rea- 
son about  infinite  space  or  duration,  &c.  :  because  the  parts  of 
such  an  idea  not  being  perceived  to  be,  as  they  are,  inconsistent, 
the  one  side  or  other  always  perplexes,  whatever  consequences 
we  draw  from  the  other ;  as  an  idea  of  motion  not  passing  on 
would  perplex  any  one,  who  should  argue  from  such  an  idea, 
which  is  not  better  than  an  idea  of  motion  at  rest :  and  such 
another  seems  to  me  to  be  the  idea  of  a  space,  or  (which  is  the 
same  thing)  a  number  infinite,  i.  e.  of  a  space  or  number  which 
the  mind  actually  has,  and  so  views  and  terminates  in  ;  and  of  a 
space  or  number  which,  in  a  constant  and  endless  enlarging  and 
progression,  it  can  in  thought  never  attain  to.  For  how  large 
soever  an  idea  of  space  I  have  in  my  mind,  it  is  no  larger  than 
it  is  that  instant  that  I  have  it,  though  I  be  capable  the  next  in- 
stant to  double  it,  and  so  on  in  infinitum :  for  that  alone  is  infinite 
Avhich  has  no  bounds  ;  and  that  the  idea  of  infinity,  in  which  our 
thoughts  can  find  none. 

0  0.    NUMBER  AFFORDS  PS  THE  CLEAREST  IDEA  OF   IMlM'n  . 

But  of  all  other  ideas,  it  is  number,  as  I  have  said,  which  1 
think  furnishes  us  with  the  clearest  and  most  distinct  idea  of  in- 
finity we  are  capable  of.  For  even  in  space  and  duration  when 
the  mind  pursues  the  idea  of  infinity,  it  there  makes  use  of  the 
ideas  and  repetitions  of  numbers,  as  of  millions  and  millions  of 
miles,  or  years,  which  are  so  many  distinct  ideas,  kept  best  by 
number  from  running  into  a  confused  heap,  wherein  the  mind 
loses  itself;    and  when  it  has  added  together  as  manv  millions. 

Vol.  I.  9fi 


202  I3F1M1V.  [BOOK.  i=  ■ 

&c.  as  it  pleases,  of  known  lengths  of  space  or  duration,  the 
clearest  idea  it  can  get  of  infinity,  is  the  confused  incompre- 
hensible remainder  of  endless  addible  numbers,  which  affords  no 
prospect  of  stop  or  boundary. 

§   10.    OVn  DIFFERENT  CONCEPTION  OF  THE  INFINITY  OF  NUMBER. 
|  DURATION,    AND  EXPANSION. 

It  will,  perhaps,  give  us  a  little  farther  light  into  the  idea  we 
have  of  infinity,  and  discover  to  us  that  it  is  nothing  but  the  in- 
iinity  of  number  applied  to  determinate  parts,  of  which  we  have 
in  our  minds  the  distinct  ideas,  if  we  consider  that  number  is 
not  generally  thought  by  us  infinite,  whereas  duration  and  exten- 
sion are  apt  to  be  so  ;  which  arises  from  hence,  that  in  number  we 
are  at  one  end  as  it  were  :  for  there  being  in  number  nothing  less 
than  a  unit,  we  there  stop,  and  are  at  an  end  ;  but  in  addition 
or  increase  of  number,  we  can  set  no  bounds.  And  so  it  is  like 
a  line,  whereof  one  end  terminating  with  us,  the  other  is  extend- 
ed still  forward  beyond  all  that  we  can  conceive  ;  but  in  space 
and  duration  it  is  otherwise.  For  in  duration  we  consider  it,  as 
if  this  line  of  number  were  extended  both  ways  to  an  uncon- 
ceivable, undetcrminate,  and  infinite  length:  which  is  evident  to 
any  one  that  will  but  reflect  on  what  consideration  he  hath  of 
eternity  ;  which,  I  suppose,  he  will  find  to  be  nothing  else  but. 
the  turning  this  infinity  of  number  both  ways  a  parte  ante  and  a 
parte  post,  as  they  speak.  For  when  we  would  consider  eternity, 
a  parte  ante,  what  do  we  but,  beginning  from  ourselves  and  the. 
present  time  we  are  in,  repeat  in  our  minds  the  ideas  of  years, 
or  ages,  or  any  other  assignable  portion  of  duration  past,  with  a 
prospect  of  proceeding  in  such  addition  with  all  the  infinity  of 
number  ?  and  when  we  would  consider  eternity,  a  parte  post,  we 
just  after  the  same  rate  begin  from  ourselves,  and  reckon  by 
multiplied  periods  yet  to  come,  still  extending  that  line  of  num- 
ber, as  before.  And  these  two  being  put  together,  are  .that  infi- 
nite duration  we  call  eternity  :  which,  as  we  turn  our  view  either 
way,  forward  or  backward,  appears  infinite,  because  we  still 
turn  that  way  the  infinite  end  of  number,  i.  c.  the  power  still  of 
adding  more. 

§  11.' 
The  same  happens  also  in  space,  wherein  conceiving  ourselves 
to  be  as  it  wore  in  the  centre,  we  do  on  all  sides  pursue  those 
indeterminable  lines  of  number;  and  reckoning  any  way  from 
nursefws,  a  yard,  rriiie,  diameter  of  the  earth,  or  orbis  magrrns, 
by  the  infinity  of  number,  we  add  others  to  them  as  often  as 
we  will  ;  and  having  no  more  reason  to  set  bounds  to  those  re^ 
peated  ideas  than  we  have  to  set  bounds  to  number,  we  have  that 
indeterminable  idea  of  imntensitv. 


eM.  xvii.]  !.\i  i.m  j  \.  $03 

§    12.    IM  IN)  1  i:   DIVISIBl 

\ nd  since  in  any  bulk  of  matter  our  thoughts  can  never  ai 
at  the  utmost  divisibility,  therefore  tk6re  is  an  apparent  infinity  to 
us  also  in  that,  which  has  the  infinity  also  of  number:  but  with  this 
difference,  that,  in  the  former  considerations  of  the  infinity  oi 
space  and  duration,  we  only  use  addition  of  numbers  ;  whereas 
this  is  like  the  division  of  a  unit  into  its  fractions,  wherein  the 
mind  also  can  proceed  in  infinitum,  as  well  as  in  the  former  addi- 
tions ;  it  being  indeed  but  the  addition  still  of  new  numbers  : 
though  in  the  addition  of  the  one  we  can  have  no  more  the  posi- 
tive idea  of  a  space  infinitely  great,  than,  in  the  division  of  the 
other,  we  can  have  the  idea  of  a  body  infinitely  little ;  our  idea  of 
infinity  being,  as  I  may  say,  a  growing  or  fugitive  idea,  still  in  a 
boundless  progression,  that  can  stop  nowhere. 

§    13.    SO   POSITIVE   IDEA   OF   INFfXITi'. 

Though  it  he  hard,  I  think,  to  find  any  one  so  absurd  as  to  say 
Tie  has  the  positive  idea  of  an  actual  infinite  number  •  the  infinitv 
whereof  lies  only  in  a  power  still  of  adding  any  combination  of 
units  to  any  former  number,  and  that  as  long  and  as  much  as  one 
will ;  the  like  also  being  in  the  infinity  of  space  and  duration, 
which  power  leaves  always  to  the  mind  room  for  endless  addi- 
tions ;  yet  there  be  those  who  imagine  they  have  positive  ideas 
of  infinite  duration  and  space.  It  would,  1  think,  be  enough  to 
destroy  any  such  positive  idea  of  infinite,  to  ask  him  that'has  it, 
whether  he  could  add  to  it  or  no  ;  which  would  easily  show  the 
mistake  of  such  a  positive  idea.  Wo  can,  1  think,  have  no  posi- 
tive idea  of  any  space  or  duration  which  is  not  made  up  and  com- 
mensurate to  repeated  numbers  of  feet  or  yards,  or  days  and 
years,  which  are  the  common  measures,  whereof  We  have  the 
ideas  in  our  minds,  and  whereby  we  judge  of  the  greatness  of  this 
sort  of  quantities.  And  therefore,  since  an  infinite  idea  of  space 
or  duration  must  needs  be  made  up  of  infinite  parts,  it  can  have 
no  other  infinity  than  that  of  number,  capable  still  of  farther  addi- 
tion ;  but  not  an  actual  positive  idea  of  a  number  infinite.  For, 
I  think,  it  is  evident  that  the  addition  of  finite  things,  together  (as 
are  all  lengths,  whereof  we  have  the  positive  ideas)  can  never 
otherwise  produce  the  idea  of  infinite,  than  as  number  does ; 
which,  consisting  of  additions  of  finite  units  one  to  another,  sug- 
gests the  idea  of  infinite,  only  by  a  power  we  find  we  have  of 
still  increasing  the  sum,  and  adding  more  of  the  same  kind,  with- 
out coming  one  jot  nearer  the  end  of  such  progression. 

;  i'- 

They  who  would  prove  their  idea  of  infinite  to  be  positive. 
seem  to  me  to  do  it  by  a  pleasant  argument,  taken  from  the  ne- 
gation of  an  end  ;  which  being  negative,  the  negation  of  it  is 
positive,  lie.  that  considers  that  the  end  is,  in  body,  but  the 
extremity  or  superficies  of  that  body,  will  not  perhaps  be  forward 


204  INFINITY.  [jiUOKIL    * 

to  grant  that  the  end  is  a  bare  negative  :  and  he  that  perceives 
the  end  of  his  pen  is  black  or  white,  will  be  apt  to  think  that  the 
end  is  something  more  than  a  pure  negation.  Nor  is  it,  when 
applied  to  duration,  the  bare  negation  of  existence,  but  more 
properly  the  last  moment  of  it.  But  if  they  will  have  the  end  to 
be  nothing  but  the  bare  negation  of  existence,  I  am  sure  they 
cannot  deny  but  the  beginning  is  the  first  instant  of  being,  and  is 
not  by  anybody  conceived  to  be  a  bare  negation :  and,  therefore, 
by  their  own  argument,  the  idea  of  eternal,  a  parte  ante,  or  of  a 
duration  without  a  beginning,  is  but  a  negative  idea. 

§  15.    WHAT  IS    POSITIVE,  WHAT  NEGATIVE,  IN  OUR  IDEA  OF  INFINITE. 

The  idea  of  infinite  has,  I  confess,  something  of  positive  in  all 
those  things  we  apply  to  it.     When  we  would  think  of  infinite 
space  or  duration,  we  at  first  step  usually  make  some  very  large 
idea,  as  perhaps  of  millions  of  ages,  or  miles,  which  possibly  we 
double  and  multiply  several  times.     All  that  we  thus  amass  to- 
gether in  our  thoughts,  is  positive,  and  the  assemblage  of  a  great 
number  of  positive  ideas,  of  space  or  duration.     But  what  still 
remains  beyond    this,    we    have    no    more  a  positive  distinct 
notion  of,  than  a  mariner  has  of  the  depth  of  the  sea ;  where, 
having  let  down  a  large  portion  of  his  sounding-line,  he  reaches 
no  bottom  :  whereby  he  knows  the  depth  to  be  so  many  fathoms 
and  more  ;  but  how  much  the  more  is  he  hath  no  distinct  notion 
at  all  :*  and  could  he  always  supply  new  line,  and  find  the  plum- 
met always  sink,  without  ever  stopping,  he  would  be  something 
in  the  posture  of  the  mind  reaching  after  a  complete  and  posi- 
tive idea  of  infinity.     In  which  case  let  this  line  be  ten,  or  one 
thousand  fathoms  long,  it  equally  discovers  what  is  beyond  it : 
and  gives  only  this  confused  and  comparative  idea,  that  this  is 
not  all,  but  one  may  yet  go  farther.     So  much  as  the  mind  com- 
prehends of  any  space,  it  has  a  positive  idea  of;  but  in  endea- 
vouring to  make  it  infinite,  it  being  always  enlarging,  always  ad- 
vancing, the  idea  is  still  imperfect  and'  incomplete.     So  much 
space  as  the  mind  takes  a  view  of  in  its  contemplation  of  great- 
ness, is  a  clear  picture,  and  positive  in  the  understanding  :  but 
infinite  is  still  greater.     1.  Then  the  idea  of  so  much  is  positive 
and  clear.     2.  The  idea  of  greater  is  also  clear,  but  it  is  but  a 
comparative  idea,  viz.  the  idea  of  so  much  greater  as  cannot  be 
comprehended  ;  and  is  plainly  negative,  not  positive.     For  he 
has  no  positive  clear  idea  of  the  largeness   of  any  extension 
(which  is  that  sought  for  in  the  idea  of  infinite,)  that  has  not  a 
comprehensive,  idea  of  the  dimensions  of  it;  and  such  nobody,  I 
think,  pretends  to  in  what  is  infinite.     For  to  say  a  man  has  a 
positive  clear  idea  of  any  quantity,  without  knowing  how  great 
it  is,  is  as  reasonable  as  to  say,  he  has  the  positive  clear  idea  of 
the  number  of  the  sands  on  the  sea-shore,  who  knows  not  how 
many  there  be,  but  only  that  they  are  more  than  twenty.     For 
just  such  a  perfect  and  positive  idea  has  he  of  an  infinite  space  or 


vll.  XVII. J  INFINITY.  205 

duration,  who  says  it  is  larger  than  the  extent  or  duration  often, 
one  hundred,  one  thousand,  or  any  other  number  of  miles,  or 
years,  whereof  he  has,  or  can  have,  a  positive  idea ;  which  is  all 
the  idea,  I  think,  we  have  of  infinite.  So  that  what  lies  beyond 
our  positive  idea  towards  infinity,  lies  in  obscurity  ;  and  has  the 
indeterminate  confusion  of  a  negative  idea,  wherein  I  know  I 
neither  do  nor  can  comprehend  all  1  would,  it  being  too  large  for 
a  finite  and  narrow  capacity :  and  that  cannot  but  be  very  far 
from  a  positive  complete  idea,  wherein  the  greatest  part  of  what 
I  would  comprehend  is  left  out,  under  the  undeterminate  intima- 
tion of  being  still  greater  :  for  to  say,  that  having  in  any  quantity 
measured  so  much,  or  gone  so  far,  you  are  not  yet  at  the  end,  is 
only  to  say,  that  that  quantity  is  greater.  So  that  the  negation 
of  an  end  in  any  quantity  is,  in  other  words,  only  to  say,  that  it  is 
bigger  :  and  a  total  negation  of  an  end  is  but  carrying  this  big- 
ger still  with  you,  in  all  the  progressions  your  thoughts  shall 
make  in  quantity,  and  adding  this  idea  of  still  greater  to  all  the 
ideas  you  have,  or  can  be  supposed  to  have,  of  quantity.  Now 
whether  such  an  idea  as  that  be  positive,  I  leave  any  one  to 
■consider. 

0    16.    WE  HAVE  NO  POSITIVE   IDEA    OF    AN"  INFINITE  DURATION, 

I  ask  those  who  say  they  have  a  positive  idea  of  eternity, 
whether  their  idea  of  duration  includes  in  it  succession,  or  not  ' 
If  it  does  not,  they  ought  to  show  the  difference  of  their  notion  ot 
duration,  when  applied  to  an  eternal  being  and  to  a  finite  ;  since 
perhaps,  there  may  be  others,  as  well  as  I,  who  will  own  to  them 
their  weakness  of  understanding  in  this  point ;  and  acknowledge 
that  the  notion  they  have  of  duration  forces  them  to  conceive, 
that  whatever  has  duration,  is  of  a  longer  continuance  to-day 
than  it  was  yesterday.  If,  to  avoid  succession  in  external  exist- 
ence, they  return  to  the  punctum  stans  of  the  schools,  I  suppose 
they  will  thereby  very  little  mend  the  matter,  or  help  us  to  a 
more  clear  and  positive  idea  of  infinite  duration,  there  being  no- 
thing more  inconceivable  to  me  than  duration  without  succession. 
Resides,  that  punclum  stans,  if  it  signify  any  thing,  being  not 
quantum,  finite  or  infinite  cannot  belong  to  it.  But  if  our  weak 
apprehensions  cannot  separate  succession  from  any  duration 
whatsoever,  our  idea  of  eternity  can  be  nothing  but  of  infinite 
succession  of  moments  of  duration,  wherein  any  thing  does  exist ; 
and  whether  any  one  has,  or  can  have  a  positive  idea  of  an  actual 
infinite  number,  I  leave  him  to  consider,  till  his  infinite  number 
be  so  great  that  he  himself  can  add  no  more  to  it ;  and  as  long  as 
he  can  increase  it,  I  doubt  he  himself  will  think  the  idea  he  hath 
of  it  a  little  too  scanty  for  positive  infinity. 

§  17. 
I  think  it  unavoidable  for  every  considering  rational  creature, 
that  will  but  examine  his  own  or  anv  other  existence,  to  have 


'206  IMIMii.  (BOOK  if, 

the  notion  oi* an  eternal  wise  Being,  who  had  no  beginning  ;  and 
such  an  idea  of  infinite  duration  I  am  sure  I  have.  But  this  ne- 
gation of  a  beginning  being  but  the  negation  of  a  positive  thing, 
scarce  gives  me  a  positive  idea  of  infinity  ;  which,  whenever  I 
endeavour  to  extend  my  thoughts  to,  I  confess  myself  at  a  loss, 
and  I  find  I  cannot  attain  any  clear  comprehension  of  it. 

§   18.    NO  FOSITIVE  IDEA  OF   INFINITE  SPACE. 

He  that  thinks  he  has  a  positive  idea  of  infinite  space,  will, 
when  he  considers  it,  find  that  he  can  no  more  have  a  positive 
idea  of  the  greatest,  than  he  has  of  the  least  space.  For  in  this 
latter,  which  seems  the  easier  of  the  two,  and  more  within  our 
comprehension,  we  are  capable  only  of  a  comparative  idea  of 
smallness,  which  will  always  be  less  than  any  one  whereof  we 
have  the  positive  idea.  All  our  positive  ideas  of  any  quantity, 
whether  great  or  little,  have  always  bounds ;  though  our  compa- 
rative idea,  whereby  we  can  always  add  to  the  one  and  take  from 
the  other,  hath  no  bounds ;  for  that  which  remains  either  great 
or  little,  not  being  comprehended  in  that  positive  idea  which  we 
have,  lies  in  obscurity  ;  and  we  have  no  other  idea  of  it,  but  of 
the  power  of  enlarging  the  one,  and  diminishing  the  other,  with- 
out ceasing.  A  pestle  and  mortar  will  as  soon  bring  any  particle 
of  matter  to  indivisibility  as  the  acutest  thought  of  a  mathema- 
tician; and  a  surveyor  may  as  soon  with  his  chain  measure  our. 
infinite  space  as  a  philosopher  by  the  quickest  flight  of  mind  reach 
it,  or  by  thinking  comprehend  it ;  which  is  to  have  a  positive  idea 
of  it.  He  that  thinks  on  a  cube  of  an  inch  diameter,  has  a  clear 
and  positive  idea  of  it  in  his  mind,  and  so  can  frame  one  of  f ,  {,  f-, 
and  so  on  till  he  has  the  idea  in  his  thoughts  of  something  very 
little ;  but  yet  reaches  not  the  idea  of  that  incomprehensible 
littleness  which  division  can  produce.  What  remains  of  small- 
ness is  as  far  from  his  thoughts  as  when  he  first  began ;  and 
therefore  he  never  comes  at  all  to  have  a  clear  and  positive  idea 
of  that  smallness  which  is  consequent  to  infinite  divisibility. 

§    19.    WHAT  IS  POSITIVE,  WHAT  NEGATIVE,  IN    OUR  IDEA  OF  INFINITE, 

Every  one  that  looks  towards  infinity  does,  as  I  have  said,  at 
first  glance  make  some  very  large  idea  of  that  which  he  applies 
it  to,  let  it  be  space  or  duration  ;  and  possibly  he  wearies  his 
thoughts,  by  multiplying  in  his  mind  that  first  large  idea:  but  yet 
by  that  he  comes  no  nearer  to  the  having  a  positive  clear  idea  oi 
what  remains  to  make  up  a  positive  infinite,  than  the  country-fel- 
low had  of  the  water,  which  was  yet  to  come  and  pass  the  channel 
of  the  river  where  he  stood  : 

Rusticus  expectat  dam  trauseat  amnis,  atille 
LabitUr,  et  labetnr  in  omne  volubilis  sevum-. 


•vil.   XVII.]  INFIM1  \  .  IO'i 

20.    SOME  THINK  THEY  HAVE  A  POSITIVE  IDEA  OK  ETERNITY,  AND 
NOT   OF  INFINITE   SPACE. 

There  are  some  I  have  met  with,  that  put  so  much  difference 
between  infinite  duration  and  infinite  space,  that  they  persuade 
themselves  that  they  have  a  positive  idea  of  eternity  ;  but  that 
they  have  not,  nor  can  have  any  idea  of  infinite  space.  The 
reason  of  which  mistake  I  suppose  to  be  this,  that  tinding  by  a 
due  contemplation  of  causes  and  effects,  that  it  is  necessary  to 
admit  some  eternal  being,  and  so  to  consider  the  real  existence 
of  that  being,  as  taken  up  and  commensurate  to  their  idea  of 
eternity  ;  but,  on  the  other  side,  not  finding  it  necessary,  but  on 
the  contrary  apparently  absurd,  that  body  should  be  infinite ;  the}" 
forward! v  conclude,  that  they  have  no  idea  of  infinite  space, 
because  they  can  have  no  idea  of  infinite  matter.  Which  conse- 
quence, 1  conceive,  is  very  ill  collected;  because  the  existence  of 
matter  is  noways  necessary  to  the  existence  of  space,  no  more, 
than  the  existence  of  motion,  or  the  sun,  is  necessary  to  duration, 
though  duration  uses  to  be  measured  by  it :  and  I  doubt  not  but 
that  a  man  may  have  the  idea  often  thousand  miles  square,  with- 
out any  body  so  big,  as  well  as  the  idea  of  ten  thousand  years 
without  any  body  so  old.  It  seems  as  easy  to  me  to  have  the 
ulea  of  space  empty  of  body,  as  to  think  of  the  capacity  of  a 
bushel  without  corn,  or  the  hollow  of  a  nut-shell  without  a  kernel 
in  it :  it  being  no  more  necessary  that  there  should  be  existing  a 
^olid  body  infinitely  extended,  because  we  have  an  idea  of  the 
infinity  of  space,  than  it  is  necessary  that  the  world  should  be 
eternal,  because  we  have  an  idea  of  infinite  duration.  And  why 
should  we  think  our  idea  of  infinite  space  requires  the  real  exist- 
ence of  matter  to  support  it,  when  we  find  that  we  have  as  clear  an 
idea  of  an  infinite  duration  to  come,  as  we  have  of  infinite  dura- 
tion past  ?  Though,  f  suppose,  nobody  thinks  it  conceivable,  that 
any  thing  docs  or  has  existed  in  that  future  duration.  Nor  is  it 
possible  to  join  our  idea  of  future  duration  with  present  or  past 
existence,  any  more  than  it  is  possible  to  make  the  ideas  of  yes- 
terday, to-day,  and  to-morrow  to  be  the  same ;  or  bring  ages  past 
and  future  together,  and  make  them  contemporary.  But  if  these 
men  are  of  the  mind,  that  they  have  clearer  ideas  of  infinite 
duration  than  of  infinite  space,  because  it  is  past  doubt  that  God 
has  existed  from  all  eternity,  but  there  is  no  real  matter  coex- 
tended  with  infinite  space  ;  yet  those  philosophers  who  are  of 
opinion  that  infinite  space  is  possessed  by  God's  infinite  omnipre- 
sence, as  well  as  infinite  duration  by  his  eternal  existence,  must 
be  allowed  to  have  as  clear  an  idea  of  infinite  space  as  of  infinite 
duration  ;  though  neither  of  them,  I  think,  has  any  positive  idea 
of  infinity  in  cither  case.  For  whatsoever  positive  idea  a  man 
has  in  his  mind  of  any  quantity,  he  can  repeat  it,  and  add  it  to 
the  former  as  easily  as  he  can  add  together  the  ideas  of  two  days, 
or  two  paces,  which  are  positive  ideas  of  lengths  he  has  in  his 
mind,  and  so  on  as  long  as  he  pleases  ;  whereby  if  a  man  had  a 


2&S  INFIMTi.  [BOOK  11, 

positive  idea  of  infinite,  either  duration  or  space,  he  could  add 
two  infinites  together ;  nay,  make  one  infinite  infinitely  bigger 
than  another:  absurdities  too  gross  to  be  confuted. 

§21.  SUPPOSED  POSITIVE  IDEAS  OF  INFINITY,  CAUSE  OF  MISTAKES. 

But  yet  after  all  this,  there  being  men  who  persuade  themselves 
that  they  have  clear  positive  comprehensive  ideas  of  infinity,  it 
is  fit  they  enjoy  their  privilege  :  and  I  should  be  very  glad  (with 
some  others  that  I  know,  who  acknowledge  they  have  none  such) 
to  be  better  informed  by  their  communication.  For  I  have  been 
hitherto  apt  to  think  that  the  great  and  inextricable  difficulties 
which  perpetually  involve  all  discourses  concerning  infinity, 
whether  of  space,  duration,  or  divisibility,  have  been  the  certain 
marks  of  a  defect  in  our  ideas  of  infinity,  and  the  disproportion 
the  nature  thereof  has  to  the  comprehension  of  our  narrow  capa- 
cities. For  whilst  men  talk  and  dispute  of  infinite  space  or 
duration,  as  if  they  had  as  complete  and  positive  ideas  of  them 
as  they  have  of  the  names  they  use  for  them,  or  as  they  have  of 
a  yard,  or  an  hour,  or  any  other  determinate  quantity ;  it  is  no 
wonder  if  the  incomprehensible  nature  of  the  thing  they  dis- 
course of,  or  reason  about,  leads  them  into  perplexities  and  con- 
tradictions ;  and  their  minds  be  overlaid  by  an  object  too  large 
and  mighty  to  be  surveyed  and  managed  by  them. 

§  22.    ALL  THESE  IDEAS  FROM  SENSATION  AND  REFLECTION. 

If  1  have  dwelt  pretty  long  on  the  consideration  of  duration, 
space,  and  number,  and  what  arises  from  the  contemplation  of 
them,  infinity  ;  it  is  possibly  no  more  than  the  matter  requires; 
there  being  few  simple  ideas  whose  modes  give  more  exercise  to 
the  thoughts  of  men  than  these  do.  I  pretend  not  to  treat  of 
them  in  their  full  latitude  ;  it  suffices  to  my  design  to  show  how 
the  mind  receives  them,  such  as  they  are,  from  sensation  and 
reflection  ;  and  how  even  the  idea  we  have  of  infinity,  how 
remote  soever  it  may  seem  to  be  from  any  object  of  sense  or 
operation  of  our  mind,  has  nevertheless,  as  all  our  other  ideas, 
its  original  there.  Some  mathematicians  perhaps,  of  advanced 
speculations,  may  have  other  ways  to  introduce  into  their  minds 
ideas  of  infinity  ;  but  this  hinders  not,  but  that  they  themselves, 
as  well  as  all  other  men,  got  the  first  ideas  which  they  had  of 
infinity  from  sensation  and  reflection,  in  the  method  we  have  here 
set  down. 


<  H.   Win.}  OP  OTHER  SIMPLE    WODES.  209 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

OF  OTHER  SIMPLE  MODI.-. 

j    1  .    MUDES    OV    MOTIQN; 

Though  I  have  in  the  foregoing  chapters  shown  how  from 
himple  ideas,  taken  in  by  sensation,  the  mind  comes  to  extend 
itself  even  to  infinity  ;  which  however  it  may,  of  all  others,  seem 
most  remote  from  any  sensible  perception,  yet  at  last  hath  nothing 
in  it  but  what  is  made  out  of  simple  ideas,  received  into  the 
mind  by  the  senses,  and  afterward  there  pat  together  by  the 
faculty  the  mind  has  to  repeat  its  own  ideas  :  though,  I  say,  these 
might  be  instances  enough  of  simple  modes  of  the  simple  ideas  of 
sensation,  and  suffice  to  show  how  the  mind  comes  by  them  ;  yet 
I  shall,  for  method's  sake,  though  briefly,  give  an  account  of  some 
few  more,  and  then  proceed  to  more  complex  ideas. 


To  slide,  roll,  tumble,  walk,  creep,  run,  dance,  leap,  skip,  and 
abundance  of  others  that  might  be  named,  are  words  which  are 
no  sooner  heard  but  every  one,  who  understands  English,  has 
presently  in  his  mind  distinct  ideas,  which  are  all  but  the  different 
modifications  of  motion.  Modes  of  motion  answer  those  of 
extension  :  swift  and  slow  are  two  different  ideas  of  motion,  the 
measures  whereof  arc  made  of  the  distances  of  time  and  space 
put  together ;  so  they  are  complex  ideas  comprehending  time 
and  space  with  motion. 

<$  3.  MODES   OF  SOUNDS. 

The  like  variety  have  we  in  sounds.  Every  articulate  word 
is  a  different  modification  of  sound  :  by  which  we  see,  that  from 
the  sense  of  hearing,  by  such  modifications,  the  mind  may  be 
furnished  with  distinct  ideas  to  almost  an  infinite  number.  Sounds 
:dso,  besides  the  distinct  cries  of  birds  and  beasts,  are  modified 
by  diversity  of  different  notes  of  different  length  put  together, 
w  Inch  make  that  complex  idea  called  a  tune,  which  a  musician 
may  have  in  his  mind  when  he  hears  or  makes  no  sound  at  all, 
by  reflecting  on  the  ideas  of  those  sounds  so  put  together  silently 
m  his  own  fancy. 

v.or-ES  OF  COLOURS. 

Those  of  colours  arc  also  very  various  :  some  we  take  notice 
of  as  the  different  degrees,  or,  as  they  are  termed,  shades  of  the 
^amc  colour.  But  since  we  very  seldom  make  assemblages  of 
colours  either  for  use  or  delight,  but  figure  is  taken  in  also  and 
has  its  part  in  it.  ae  in  painting,  weaving,  ncedU-works.  &c.  those 

Vol  .  r.  27 


121 0  OF  OTH£R  SlJtfl'LE    MODES.  [BOOK  II. 

which  arc  taken  notice  of  do  most  commonly  belong  to  mixed 
modes,  as  being  made  up  of  ideas  of  divers  kinds,  viz.  figure  and 
colour,  such  as  beauty,  rainbow,  &c, 

'.    MODES  OF  TASTE. 

Ail  compounded  tastes  and  smells  are  also  modes  made  up  of  the 
simple  ideas  of  those  senses.  But  they  being  such  as  generally 
we  have  no  names  for,  are  less  taken  notice  of,  and  cannot  be  set 
down  in  writing  ;  and  therefore  must  be  left  without  enumeration 
to  the  thoughts  and  experience  of  my  reader. 

§    6.    SOME  SIMFLE  MODES  HAVE  NO   NAMES. 

In  general  it  may  be  observed,  that  those  simple  modes  which 
are  considered  but  as  different  degrees  of  the  same  simple  idea, 
though  they  are  in  themselves  many  of  them  very  distinct  ideas, 
yet  have  ordinarily  no  distinct  names,  nor  arc  much  taken  notice 
of  as  distinct  ideas,  where  the  difference  is  but  very  small  be- 
tween them.  Whether  men  have  neglected  these  modes,  and 
given  no  names  to  them,  as  wanting  measures  nicelyto  distinguish 
Them — or  because,  when  they  were  so  distinguished,  that  know- 
ledge would  not  be  of  general  or  necessary  use — I  leave  it  to  the 
thoughts  of  others:  it  is  sufficient  to  my  purpose  to  show  that  all 
our  simple  ideas  come  to  our  minds  only  by  sensation  and  reflec- 
tion ;  and  that  when  the  mind  has  them,  it  can  variously  repeat 
and  compound  them,  and  so  make  new  complex  ideas.  But 
though  white,  red,  or  sweet,  &c.  have  not  been  modified  or  made 
into  complex  ideas,  by  several  combinations,  so  as  to  be  named, 
and  thereby  ranked  into  species  ;  yet  some  others  of  the  simple 
ideas,  viz.  those  of  unity,  duration,  motion,  &c.  above  instanced 
in,  as  also  power  and  thinking,  have  been  thus  modified  to  a  great 
variety  of  complex  ideas,  with  names  belonging  to  them. 

§  7.  WHY  SOME  MODES  HAVE,  AND  OTHERS  HAVE  NOT,  NAME-. 

The  reason  whereof,  I  suppose,  has  been  ibis  ;  that,  the  great 
concernment  of  men  being  with  men  one  among  another,  the 
knowledge  of  men  and  their  actions,  and  the  signifying  of  them 
to  one  another,  was  most  necessary  ;  and  therefore  they  made 
ideas  of  actions  very  nicely  modified,  and  gave  those  complex 
ideas  names,  that  they  might  the  more  easily  record  and  discourse 
of  those  things  they  were  daily  conversant  in,  without  long  am- 
bages and  circumlocutions  ;  and  that  the  things  they  were  conti- 
nually to  give  and  receive  information  about  might  be  the  easier 
and  quicker  understood.  Thai  this  is  so,  and  that  men  in, framing 
different  complex  ideas  and  giving  them  names,  have  been  much 
governed  by  the  end  of  speech  in  general  (which  is  a  very  short 
and  expedite  way  of  conveying  their  .thoughts  one  to  another,)  is 
evident  in  the  names  which  in  several  arts  have  been  found  out 
and  applied  to  several  complex  ideas  of  modified  actions  belong- 
ing to  their  several  trades,  for  despatch  sake,  in  their  direction  or 


GH.   IX.  j  OP    iin;  MODI  [INKING.  SI 

discourses  about  them"  ;  which  ideas  arc  not  generally  framed  in 
the  minds  of  men  not  eonVersant  about  these  operations.  And 
thence  the  word-  that  stand  for  them,  by  the  greatest  part  of  men 
of  the  same  language,  are  not  understood  :  r.  g.  colshire,  drilling, 
filtration,  qohobation,  are  words  standing  lor  certain  complex 
.  wliich  b  lom  in  the  minds   of  any  but  those  few 

whose  particular  employments  do  at  every  turn  suggest  them  to 
their  thoughts,  those  names  of  them  are  not  generally  understood 
but  by  smiths  and  chymists  ;  who  having  framed  the  complex 
ideas  which  these  words  stand  for,  and  having  given  names  to 
them,  or  received  them  from  others,  upon  hearing  of  these  names 
in  communication,  readily  conceive  those  idea-  in  their  minds ;  as 
bycohobation  all  the  simple  ideas  of  distilling, and  the  pouring  the 
liquor  distilled  from  any  thing  hack  upon  the  remaining  matter, 
and  distilling  it  again.  Thus  we  sec  that  there  arc  great  varieties 
of  simple  ideas,  as  of  tastes  and  smells,  which  have  no  names, 
and  of  modes  many  more  ;  which  either  not  having  been  gene- 
rally enough  observed,  or  else  not  being  of  any  great  use  to  be 
takeq  notice  of  in  the  affairs  and  converse  of  men,  they  have  not 
had  names  given  to  them,  and  so  pass  not  for  specie-.  This  we 
shall  have  occasion  hereafter  to  consider  more  at  large,  yphjen  we 
come  to  speak  of  words. 


<  NAPTERXLV 
OF  THE  MODES  OF  THINKING 

1.     3ENS  VTION,  REMEMBRANCE,  CONTEMPLATION,  &C 

When  the  mind  turns  its  view  inwards  upon  itself,  and  con- 
templates its  own  actions,  thinking  is  the  first  that  occurs*  In  it 
the  mind  observes  a  great  variety  of  modifications,  and  from 
thence  receives  distinct  ideas.  Thus  the  perception  which  ac- 
tually accompanies,  and  is  annexed  to  any  impression  on  the 
body,  made  by  an  external  object,  being  distinct  from  all  other 
modifications  of  thinking,  furnishes  the  mind  with  a  distinct  idea, 
which  we  call  sensation;  which  is,  as  it  were,  the  actual  entrance 
of  any  idea  into  the  understanding  by  the  senses.  The  same  idea, 
when  it  again  recurs  without  the  operation  of  the  like  object  on 
the  external  sensory,  is  remembrance  ;  if  it  be  sought  after  by 
the  mind,  and  with  pain  and  endeavour  found  and  brought  again 
in  view,  it  is  recollection  ;  if  it  be  held  there  long  under  attentive 
i  consideration,  it  is  contemplation.  When  ideas  float  in  our  mind, 
without  any  reflection  or  regard  of  the  understanding,  it  is  that 
which  the  French  call  reverie,  our  language  has  scarce  a  name 
for  it.    When   the  ideas  that   offer  themselves  (for,  as  I  have 


tt\2  OF  THE  MODES  OF  TIIIiVinSG.  [BOOK  11. 

observed  in  another  place,  whilst  we  are  awake  there  will  always 
be  a  train  of  ideas  succeeding  one  another  in  our  minds)  are 
taken  notice  of,  and,  as  it  were,  registered  in  (he  memory,  it  is 
attention.  W  hen  the  mind  with  great  earnestness,  and  of  choice, 
fixes  its  view  on  any  idea,  considers  it  on  all  sides,  and  will  not 
be  called  olf  by  the  ordinary  solicitation  of  other  ideas,  it  is  that 
we  call  intention  or  study.  Sleep,  without  dreaming,  is  rest  from 
all  these:  and  dreaming  itself  is  the  having  of  ideas,  (whilst  the 
outward  senses  are  stopped,  so  that  they  receive  not  outward 
objects  with  their  usual  quickness)  in  the  mind,  not  suggested  by 
any  external  objects  or  known  occasion,  nor  under  any  choice  or 
conduct  of  the  understanding  at  all.  And  whether  that,  which 
we  call  ecstasy,  be  not  dreaming  with  the  eyes  open.  I  leave  to 
be  examined. 

These  are  some  few  instances  of  those  various  modes  of  think- 
ing which  the  mind  may  observe  in  itself,  and  so  have  as  distinct 
ideas  of,  as  it  hath  of  white  and  red,  a  square  or  a  circle.  1  do 
not  pretend  to  enumerate  them  all,  nor  to  treat  at  large  of  this 
set  of  ideas  which  are  got  from  reflection  :  that  would  be  to 
make  a  volume.  It  suffices  to  my  present  purpose  to  have, 
shown  here,  by  some  few  examples,  of  what  sort  these  ideas  are, 
and  how  the  mind  comes  by  them  ;  especially  since  I  shall  have 
occasion  hereafter  to  treat  more  at  large  of  reasoning,  judging, 
volition,  and  knowledge,  which  arc  some  of  the  most  consider- 
able operations  of  the  mind  and  modes  of  thinking. 

§  3.    THE  VARIOUS  ATTENTION  OF  THE  MIND  IN  THINKING. 

But  perhaps  it  may  not  be  an  unpardonable  digression,  nor 
wholly  impertinent  to  our  present  design,  if  we  reflect  here 
upon  the  different  state  of  the  mind  in  thinking,  which  those 
instances  of  attention,  reverie,  and  dreaming,  &c.  before  men- 
tioned, naturally  enough  suggest.  That  there  are  ideas,  some  or 
other,  always  present  in  the  mind  of  a  waking  man,  every  one's 
experience  convinces  him,  though  the  mind  employs  itself  about 
them  with  several  degrees  of  attention.  Sometimes  the  mind 
fixes  itself  with  so  much  earnestness  on  the  contemplation  of 
some  objects,  that  it  turns  their  ideas  on  all  sides,  remarks  then- 
relations  and  circumstances,  and  views  every  part  so  nicely,  and 
with  such  intention,  that  it  shuts  out  all  other  thoughts,  and  takes 
no  notice  of  the  ordinary  impressions  made  then  on  the  senses, 
which  at  another  season  would  produce  very  sensible  percep- 
tions :  at  other  times  it  barely  observes  the  train  of  ideas  that 
succeed  in  the  understanding,  without  directing  and  pursuing  any 
of  them  ;  and  at  other  times  it  lets  them  pass  almost  quite  unre- 
garded!, as  faint  shadows  thai  make  no  impression. 


i  H.  XX.]  MODES  OF  PLEASURE  AND  PAIN, 

§   1.    HENCE  IT  IS  PROrsAFtr.E  THAT  THINJCING  is  THE  ACTION,  NOT 

^cr.  OF  THE  sorr. 

This  difference  of  intention  and  remission  of  the  mind  in 
thinking,  with  a  great  variety  of  degrees  between  earnest  study 
and  very  near  minding  nothing  at  all,  every  one,  I  think,  has  ex- 
perimented in  himself.  Trace  it  a  little  farther,  and  you  find  the 
mind  in  sleep  retired  as  it  were  from  the  senses,  and  out  of  thr-, 
reach  of  those  motions  made  on  the  organs  of  sense,  which  at 
other  times  produce  very  vivid  and  sensible  ideas.  I  need  not 
for  this,  instance  in  those  who  sleep  out  whole  stormy  nights, 
without  hearing  the  thunder,  or  seeing  the  lightning,  or  feeling 
the  shaking  of  the  house,  which  are  sensible  enough  to  those 
who  are  waking:  but  in  this  retirement  of  the  mind  from  the 
senses,  it  often  retains  a  yet  more  loose  and.  incoherent  manner 
of  thinking,  which  we  call  dreaming;  and,  last  of  all,  sound 
sleep  closes  the  scene  quite,  and  puts  an  end  to  all  appearances. 
This,  I  think,  almost  every  one  has  experience  of  in  himself,  and 
his  own  observation  without  difficulty  leads  him  thus  far.  That 
which  I  would  farther  conclude  from  hence  is,  that  since  the 
mind  can  sensibly  put  on,  at  several  times,  several  degrees  of 
thinking,  and  be  sometimes  even  in  a  waking  man  so  remiss,  as' 
to  have  thoughts  dim  and  obscure  to  that  degree,  that  they  are 
very  little  removed  from  none  at  all ;  and  at  last,  in  the  dark  re- 
tirements of  sound  sleep,  loses  the  sight  perfectly  of  all  ideas 
whatsoever:  since,  I  say,  this  is  evidently  so  in  matter  of  fact 
and  constant  experience.  I  ask  whether  it  be  not  probable  that 
thinking  is  the  action,  and  not  the  essence,  of  the  soul  ?  since  the 
operations  of  agents  will  easily  admit  of  intention  and  remission, 
but  the  essences  of  things  are  not  conceived  capable  of  any  such 
variation.     But  this  bv  the  by. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

OF  MODES  OF  PLEASURE  AND  PAIN. 

§   1.    PLEASURE  AND  PAIN  S1MFLE  IDEAS. 

Among  the  simple  ideas  which  we  receive  both  from  sensation 
and  reflection,  pain  and  pleasure  are  two  very  considerable  ones. 
For  as  in  the  body  there  is  sensation  barely  in  itself,  or  accom- 
panied with  pain  or  pleasure  ;  "so  the  thought  or  perception  of 
the  mind  is  simply  so,  or  else  accompanied  also  with  pleasure  or 
pain,  delight  or  trouble,  call  it  how  you  please.  These,  like. 
other  simple  ideas,  cannot  be  described,  nor  their  names  de- 
fined ;  the  way  of  knowing  them  is,  as  of  the  simple  ideas  of  the 
senses,  only  by  experience.  For  to  define  them  by  the  presence 
of  good  or  evil.  i«  no  otherwise  to  make  them  known  to  us  than 


214  DES  OP  PLEASURE  AND  PAIN.       [BOOK  II. 

by  making  us  reflect  on  what  we  feel  in  ourselves, -upon  the  seve- 
ral and  various  operations  of  good  and  evil  upon  our  minds,  as 
they  are  differently  applied  to  or  considered  by  us. 

(v  2.    GOOD   AND   EVIL,  WHAT. 

Things  then  arc  good  or  evil  only  in  reference  to  pleasure 
or  pain.  That  we  call  good,  which  is  apt  to  cause  or  increase 
pleasure  or  diminish  pain  in  us  ;  or  else  to  procure  or  preserve 
us  the  possession  of  any  other  good,  or  absence  of  any  evil. 
And,  on  the  contrary,  we  name  that  evil,  which  is  apt  to  produce 
or  increase  any  pain  or  diminish  any  pleasure  in  us  ;  or  else  to 
procure  us  any  evil,  or  deprive  us  of  any  good.  By  pleasure 
and  pain,  I  must  be  understood  to  mean  of  body  or  mind,  as  they 
are  commonly  distinguished  ;  though,  in  truth,  they  be  only 
different  constitutions  of  the  mind,  sometimes  occasioned  by 
disorder  in  the  body,  sometimes  by  thoughts  of  the  mind. 

§  3.    OUR  PASSIONS  MOVED  BY  GOOD  AND  EVIL. 

Pleasure  and  pain,  and  that  which  causes  them,  good  and 
evil,  are  the  hinges  on  which  our  passions  turn  :  and  if  we  reflect 
on  ourselves,  and  observe  how  these,  under  various  considera- 
tions, operate  in  us, — what  modifications  or  tempers  of  mind, 
what  internal  sensations  (if  I  may  so  call  them)  they  produce  in 
us,  we  may  thence  form  to  ourselves  the  ideas  of  our  passions. 

§  4.  LOVE. 
Thus  any  one  reflecting  upon  the  thought  he  has  of  the  delight 
which  any  present  or  absent  thing  is  apt  to  produce  in  him,  has 
the  idea  we  call  love.  For  when  a  man  declares  in  autumn, 
when  he  is  eating  them,  or  in  spring,  when  there  are  none,  that 
he  loves  grapes,  it  is  no  more  but  that  the  taste  of  grapes  delights 
him  :  let  an  alteration  of  health  or  constitution  destroy  the  de- 
light of  their  ta^te,  and  he  then  can  be  'said  to  love  grapes  no 
longer. 

J  o.    HATRED. 

On  the  contrary,  the  thought  of  the  pain  which  any  thing  pre- 
sent or  absent  is  apt  to  produce  in  us,  is  what  we  call  hatred. 
Were  it  my  business  here  to  inquire  any  farther  than  into  the 
bare  ideas  of  our  passions,  as  they  depend  on  different  modifica- 
tions of  pleasure  and  pain,  I  should  remark,  that  our  love  and 
hatred  of  inanimate  insensible  beings  is  commonly  founded  on 
that  pleasure  and  pain  which  we  receive  from  their  use  and  ap- 
plication any  way  to  our  senses,  though  with  their  destruction  : 
bu1  hatred  or  love,  to  beings  capable  of  happiness  or  misery,  is 
often  the  uneasiness  or  delight  which  we  find  in  ourselves,  arising 
from  a  consideration  of  their  very  being  or  happiness.  Thus  the 
being  and  welfare  of  a  man's  children  or  friends,  producing  con- 
-:mt  delight  in  h'm\.  In-  i-  said  constantly  to  lnvr  them.     But  u 


CH.  XX.  J  MODES    OK  D     v. US. 

suffices  to  note,  that  our  idea-  of  love  and  hatred  are  but  the 
dispositions  of  the  mind,  m  respect  of  pleasure  and  pain  in  gene- 
ral, however  caused  in  us. 

§  G.    DESIRE. 

The  uneasiness  a  man  finds  in  himself  upon  the  absence  of  any 
ihing,  whose  present  enjoyment  carries  the  idea  of  delight 
m  ith  ii,  is  that  we  call  desire  ;  which  is  greater  or  less  'as  that 
uneasiness  is  more  or  less  vehement.  Where,  by  the  by,  it  may 
perhaps  be  of  some  use  to  remark,  that  the  chief  if  not  only 
spur  to  human  industry  and  action  is  uneasiness.  For  whatso- 
ever good  is  proposed,  if  its  absence  carries  no  displeasure  or 
pain  with  it,  if  a  man  be  easy  and  content  without  it,  there  is  no 
desire  of  it,  nor  endeavour  after  it ;  there  is  no  more  but  a  bare 
vellcity,  the  term  used  to  signify  the  lowest  degree  of  desire,  and 
that  which  is  next  to  none  at  all, — when  there  is  so  little  unea- 
siness in  the  absence  of  any  thing,  that  it  carries  a  man  no  far- 
ther than  some  faint  wishes  for  it,  without  any  more  effectual  or 
vigorous  use  of  the  means  to  attain  it.  Desire  also  is  stopped 
or  abated  by  the  opinion  of  the  impossibility  or  unattainableness 
of  the  good  proposed,  as  far  as  the  uneasiness  is  cured  or  allayed 
by  that  consideration.  This  might  carry  our  thoughts  farther, 
were  it  seasonable  in  this  place. 

7. 

Joy  is  a  delight  of  the  mind  from  the  consideration  of  the 
nt  or  assured  approaching  possession  of  a  good  ;  and  Ave 
are  then  possessed  of  any  good  when  we  have  it  so  in  our  power 
that  we  can  use  it  when  we  please.  Thus  a  man  almost  starved 
lias  joy  at  the  arrival  of  rejief,  even  before  he  has  the  pleasure 
of  using  it:  and  a  father,  in  whom  the  very  well-being  of  his 
children  causes  delight,  is  always,  as  long  as  his  children  arc  in 
such  a  state,  in  the  possession  of  that  good  ;  for  he  needs  but  to 
reflect  on  it  to  have  that  pleasure. 

o.    SORROW. 

Sorrow  is  uneasfhess  in  the  mind  upon  the  thought  of  a  good 
lost,  which  might  have  been  enjoyed  longer,  or  the  sense  of  a 
present  evil. 

§  9.   HOPE. 
Hope  is  thai  pleasure  in  the  mind,  which  every  one  finds  in 
himself  upon  the  thought  of  a  profitable  future  enjoyment  of  a 
ihing  which  is  apf  to  delight  him. 

§  10.   i  . 

Fear  is  of  the  mind,  uppn  the  thoughi   <  I  fu 

evil  likeh  ■'•  befall  us. 


■2,1.6  IXODES    OF    PLEASURE    AM)    PAKV.  [BOOK  II. 

<}  11.    DESPAIR. 

Despair  is  the  thought  of  the  unattainableness  of  any  good, 
which  works  differently  in  men's  minds,  sometimes  producing 
uneasiness  or  pain,  sometimes  rest  and  indolency. 

§   12.    ANGER. 

Anger  is  uneasiness  or  discomposure  of  the  mind  upon  the 
receipt  of  any  injury,  with  a  present  purpose  of  revenge. 

§  13.    ENVY. 

Envy  is  an  uneasiness  of  the  mind,  caused  by  the  considera- 
tion of  a  good  we  desire,  obtained  by  one  we  think  should  not 
have  had  it  before  us. 

§  14.    WHAT  PASSIONS  ALL  MEN  HAVE. 

These  two  last,  envy  and  anger,  not  being  caused  by  pain  and 
pleasure,  simply  in  themselves,  but  having  in  them  some  mixed 
considerations  of  ourselves  and  others,  arc  not  therefore  to  be 
found   in  all   men,  because  those  other  parts  of  valuing  their 
merits,  or  intending  revenge,  is  wanting  in  them  :  but  all  the  rest 
terminating  purely  in  pain  and  pleasure,  are,  I  think,  to  be  found 
in  all  men.      For   we  love,  desire,   rejoice,  and  hope,  only  in 
respect  of  pleasure;  we  hate,  fear,  and  grieve,  only  in  respect 
of  pain  ultimately  :    in  fine,  all   these  passions  are   moved  by 
things,  only  as   they  appear  to  be  the  causes  of  pleasure  and 
pain,  or  to  have  pleasure  or  pain  some  way  or  other  annexed  to 
them.      Thus  we  extend  our  hatred  usually  to  the  subject  (at 
least  if  a  sensible  or  voluntary  agent)  which  has  produced  pain 
in  us,  because  the  fear  it  leaves  is  a  constant  pain :  but  we  do  not 
so  constantly  love   what  has   done  us   good;  because  pleasure 
operates  not  so  strongly  on  us  as  pain,  and  because  we  are  not 
so  ready  to  have  hope  it  will  do  so  again.     But  this  by  .th    by. 

§  15.    PLEASURE  AND  PAIN,  WHAT. 

By  pleasure  and  pain,  delight  and  uneasiness,  I  must  all  along 
be  understood  (as  1  have  above  intimated)  to  mean  not  only 
bodily  pain  and  pleasure,  but  whatsoever  delight  or  uneasiness  is 
felt  by  us,  whether  arising  from  any  grateful  or  unacceptable  sen- 
sation or  reflection. 

;  id. 

It  is  farther  to  be  considered,  that  in  reference  to  the  pas- 
sions, the  removal  or  lessening  of  a  pain  is  considered  and 
operates  as  a  [Measure ;  and  the  loss  or  diminishing  of  a  plea- 
sure as  a  pain. 

L7.  snAMi 

The  passions  too  have  most  of  them  in  most  persons  opera- 
ions  on  the  body,  and  i  ause  various  changes  in  it :  which  nol 


CH.  XXI. J  OF  POWER.  l\'t 

being  always  sensible,  do  not  make  a  necessary  part  of  the  idea 
of  each  passion.  For  shame,  which  is  an  uneasiness  of  the 
mind  upon  the  thought  of  having  done  something  which  is  inde- 
cent, or  will  lessen  the  valued  esteem  which  others  have  for  us. 
lias  not  always  blushing  accompanying  it. 

§  18.    THESE  INSTANCES  TO  SHOW  HOW  OUR  IDEAS  OF  THE  PASSTO.V- 
ARE  GOT     FROM  SENSATION  AND  REFLECTION. 

I  would  not  be  mistaken  here,  as  if  I  meant  this  as  a  discourse 
of  the  passions  ;  they  are  many  more  than  those  I  have  here 
named  ;  and  those  I  have  taken  notice  of  would  each  of  them 
require  a  much  larger  and  more  accurate  discourse.  I  have 
only  mentioned  these  here  as  so  many  instances  of  modes  of 
pleasure  and  pain  resulting  in  our  minds  from  various  considera- 
tions of  good  and  evil.  I  might  perhaps  have  instanced  in  other 
modes  of  pleasure  and  pain  more  simple  than  these,  as  the  pain 
of  hunger  and  thirst,  and  the  pleasure  of  eating  and  drinking  to 
remove  them :  the  pain  of  tender  eyes,  and  the  pleasure  of  music  ; 
pain  from  captious  uninstructive  wrangling,  and  the  pleasure  of 
rational  conversation  with  a  friend,  or  of  well-directed  study  in 
the  search  and  discovery  of  truth.  But  the  passions  being  of 
much  more  concernment  to  us,  I  rather  made  choice  to  instance 
in  them,  and  show  how  the  ideas  we  have,  of  them  are  derived 
from  sensation  and  reflection. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

0F  POWER. 

§    1.    THIS  IDEA  HOW  GOT. 

The  mind  being  every  day  informed,  by  the  senses,  of  the 
alteration  of  those  simple  ideas  it  observes  in  things  without, 
and  taking  notice  how  one  comes  to  an  end,  and  ceases  to  be, 
and  another  begins  to  exist  which  was  not  before : — reflecting 
also  on  what  passes  within  himself,  and  observing  a  constant 
change  of  its  ideas,  sometimes  by  the  impression  of  outward 
objects  on  the  senses,  and  sometimes  by  the  determination  of  its 
own  choice  ;  and  concluding  from  what  it  has  so  constantly 
observed  to  have  been,  that  the  like  changes  will  for  the  future 
be  made  in  the  same  things  by  like  agents,  and  by  the  like  ways  ; 
— considers  in  one  thing  the  possibility  of  having  any  of  its 
simple  ideas  changed,  and  in  another  the  possibility  of  making 
that  change  ;  and  so  comes  by  that  idea  which  Ave  call  power. 
Thus  we  say  tire  has  a  power  to  melt  gold,  i.  c.  to  destroy  the 
consistency  of  its  insensible  parts,  and  consequently  its  hardness,, 

Vofe.  I.  23 


iilfc  Qfc>POWKR.  [book  n- 

and  make  it  fluid,  and  gold  has  a  power  to  be  melted;  that  the 
sun  has  a  power  to  blanch  wax,  and  wax  a  power  to  be  blanched 
by  the  sun,  whereby  tiie  yellowness  is  destroyed,  and  whiteness 
made  to  exist  in  its  room.  In  which  and  the  like  cases,  the 
power  we  consider  is  in  reference  to  the  change  of  perceivable 
ideas ;  for  we  cannot  observe  any  alteration  to  be  made  in,  or 
operation  upon,  any  thing,  but  by  the  observable  change  of  its 
sensible  ideas  ;  nor  conceive  any  alteration  to  be  made,  but  by 
conceiving  a  change  of  some  of  its  ideas. 

§  2.    POWER  ACTIVE  AND  PASSIVE'. 

Power,  thus  considered,  is  twofold,  viz.  as  able  to  make,  or 
a*le  to  receive,  any  change  ;  the  one  may  be  called  active,  and 
the  other  passive  power.  Whether  matter  be  not  wrholly  desti- 
tute of  active  power,  as  its  author  God  is  truly  above  all  passive 
power,  and  wdtether  the  intermediate  state  of  created  spirits  be 
not  that  alone  wrhich  is  capable  of  both  active  and  passive  power, 
may  be  worth  consideration.  I  shall  not  now  enter  into  thai: 
inquiry  ;  my  present  business  being  not  to  search  into  the 
original  of  power,  but  how  we  come  by  the  idea  of  it.  But 
since  active  powers  make  so  great  a  part  of  our  complex  ideas 
of  natural  substances  (as  we  shall  see  hereafter,)  and  1  mention 
'hem  as  such  according  to  common  apprehension ;  yet  they 
being  not  perhaps  so  truly  active  powers,  as  our  hasty  thoughts 
are  apt  to  represent  them,  I  judge  it  not  amiss,  by  this  intima- 
tion, to  direct  our  minds  to  the  consideration  of  God  and  spirits, 
for  the  clearest  idea  of  active  powers. 

§  3.  POWER  INCLUDES  RELATION. 

I  confess  power  includes  in  it  some  kind  of  relation  (a  rela- 
tion to  action  or  change,)  as  indeed  which  of  our  ideas,  of  what 
kind  soever,  when  attentively  considered,  does  not  ?  For  our 
ideas  of  extension,  duration,  and  number,  do  they  not  all  contain 
in  them  a  secret  relation  of  the  parts  ?  Figure  and  motion  have 
something  relative  in  them  much  more  visibly:  and  sensible 
qualities,  as  colours  and  smells,  &c.  what  arc  they  but  the  powers 
of  different  bodies,  in  relation  to  our  perception  ?  &c.  And 
if  considered  in  the  things  themselves,  do  they  not  depend  on  the 
bulk,  figure,  texture,  and  motion  of  the  parts?  All  which  include 
some  kind  of  relation  in  them.  Our  idea,  therefore,  of  power, 
I  think,  may  well  have  a  place  among  other  simple  ideas,  and  be 
considered  as  one  of  them,  being  one  of  those  that  make  a  prin- 
cipal ingredient  in  our  complex  ideas  of  substances,  as  we  shall 
hereafter  have  occasion  to  observe. 

§4.    THE  CLEAREST   IDEA  OF  ACTIVE  POWER  HAD  FROM  SPIRIT. 

We  are  abundantly  furnished  with  the  idea  of  passive  power 
by  almost  all  sorts  of  sensible  things,  in  most  of  them  we  can- 
not avoid  observing  their  sensible  qualities,  nav.  the ir  verv  sub 


CH.  XXI. "i  OF  VOWfclK.  ,$H> 

stance?,  to  be  in  a  continual  flux:  and  therefore  with  reason  we 
look  on  them  as  liable  still  to  the  same  change.  Nor  have  we 
of  active  power  (which  is  the  more  proper  signification  of  the 
word  power)  fewer  instances  :  since  whatever  change  is  ob- 
served, the  mind  must  collect  a  power  somewhere  able  to  make 
that  change,  as  well  as  a  possibility  in  the  thing  itself  to  receive  it. 
But  yet,  if  we  will  consider  it  attentively,  bodies,  by  our  senses, 
do  not  afford  us  so  clear  and  distinct  an  idea  of  active  power  as 
we  have  from  reflection  on  the  operations  of  our  minds.  For 
all  power  relating  to  action, — and  there  being  but  two  sorts  of 
action  whereof  we  have  any  idea,  viz.  thinking  and  motion, — 
let  us  consider  whence  we  have  the  clearest  ideas  of  the  powers 
which  produce  these  actions.  1 .  Of  thinking,  body  affords  us 
no  idea  at  all :  it  is  only  from  reflection  that  we  have  that.  2. 
•Neither  have  we  from  body  any  idea  of  the  beginning  of  motion, 
A  body  at  rest  affords  us  no  idea  of  any  active,  power  to  move  ; 
and  when  it  is  set  in  motion  itself,  that  motion  is  rather  a  passion 
than  an  action  in  it.  For  when  the  ball  obeys  the  motion  of  a 
biliard-stick,  it  is  not  any  action  of  the  ball,  but  bare  passion  :  also 
when  by  impulse  it  sets  another  ball  in  motion  that  lay  in  its  way, 
it  only  communicates  the  motion  it  had  received  from  another, 
and  loses  in  itself  so  much  as  the  other  received  :  which  give« 
us  but  a  very  obscure  idea  of  an  active  power  of  moving  in 
body,  whilst  we  observe  it  only  to  transfer,  but  not  produce  an y 
7notion.  For  it  is  but  a  very  obscure  idea  of  power,  which 
reaches  not  the  production  of  the  action,  but  the  continuation 
of  the  passion.  For  so  is  motion  in  a  body  impelled  b)r  another  : 
the  continuation  of  the  alteration  made  in  it  from  rest  to  motion 
being  little  more  an  action  than  the  continuation  of  the  altera- 
tion of  its  figure  by  the  same  blow,  is  an  action.  The  idea  of 
the  beginning  of  motion  we  have  only  from  reflection  on  what 
passes  in  ourselves,  where  we  find  by  experience,  that  barely  by 
willing  it,  barely  by  a  thought  of  the  mind,  we  can  move  th« 
parts  of  our  bodies  which  were  before  at  rest.  So  that  it  seems 
to  me,  Ave  have  from  the  observation  of  the  operation  of  bodies 
by  our  senses  but  a  very  imperfect  obscure  idea  of  active  power, 
since  they  afford  us  not  any  idea  in  themselves  of  the  power  to 
begin  any  action,  cither  motion  or  thought.  But  if,  from  the 
impulse  bodies  are  observed  to  make  one  upon  another,  any 
one  thinks  he  has  a  clear  idea  of  power,  it  serves  as  well  to  my 
purpose,  sensation  being  one  of  those  ways  whereby  the  mind 
comes  by  its  ideas :  only  I  thought  it  worth  while  to  consider 
here,  by  the  way,  whether  the  mind  doth  not  receive  its  idea  of 
active  power  clearer  from  reflection  on  its  own  operations  than 
it  doth  from  any  external  sensation. 

'     WILL  AND  UNDLK.STAMHNG   1WO  POWERS 

Tins  at  least  I  think  evident,  that  we   find    in    ourselves  a. 
power  to  begin  or  forbear,  continue  or  end  several  actions  <?i  our 


.i^y  OF  POWER.  |  BOOK.  H. 

minds,  and  motions  oi'  our  bodies,  barely  by  a  thought  or  prefer- 
ence of  the  mind  ordering,  or,  as  it  were,  commanding  the  doing 
or  not  doing  such  or  such  a  particular  action.  This  power  which 
the  mind  has  thus  to  order  the  consideration  of  any  idea,  or  the 
forbearing  to  consider  it ; — or  to  prefer  the  motion  of  any  part 
of  the  body  to  its  rest,  and  vice  versa,  in  any  particular  instance  : 
— is  that  which  we  call  the  will.  The  actual  exercise  of  that 
power,  by  directing  any  particular  action,  or  its  forbearance,  is 
that  which  we  call  volition  or  willing.  The  forbearance  of  that 
action,  consequent  to  such  order  or  command  of  the  mind,  is 
called  voluntary.  And  whatsoever  action  is  performed  without 
such  a  thought  of  the  mind,  is  called  involuntary.  The  power 
of  perception  is  that  which  we  call  the  understanding.  Percep- 
tion, which  we  make  the  act  of  the  understanding,  is  of  three 
sorts:  1.  The  perception  of  ideas  in  our  mind.  2.  The  per-* 
ception  of  the  signification  of  signs.  3.  The  perception  of  the 
connexion  or  repugnancy,  agreement  or  disagreement,  that  there 
is  between  any  of  our  ideas.  All  these  are  attributed  to  the 
understanding,  or  perceptive  power,  though  it  be  the  two  latter 
only  that  use  allows  us  to  say  we  understand. 

§  6.    FACULTY. 

These  powers  of  the  mind,  viz.  of  perceiving,  and  of  prefer- 
ring, are  usually  called  by  another  name  :  and  the  ordinary  way 
of  speaking  is,  that  the  understanding  and  will  are  two  faculties 
of  the  mind  ;  a  word  proper  enough,  if  it  be  used  as  all  words 
should  be,  so  as  not  to  breed  any  confusion  in  men's  thoughts,  by 
being  supposed  (asT  suspect  it  has  been)  to  stand  for  some  real 
beings  in  the  soul  that  performed  those  actions  of  understanding 
and  volition.  For  when  we  say  the  will  is  the  commanding  and 
superior  faculty  of  the  soul ;  that  it  is,  or  is  not  free  ;  that  it  de- 
termines the  inferior  faculties  ;  that  it  follows  the  dictates  of  the 
understanding,  &c. ; — though  these,  and  the  like  expressions,  by 
those  that  carefully  attend  to  their  own  ideas,  and  conduct  their 
thoughts  more  by  the  evidence  of  things  than  the  sound  of  words, 
may  be  understood  in  a  clear  and  distinct  sense  ;  yet  I  suspect,  I 
say,  that  this  way  of  speaking  of  faculties  has  misled  many  into 
a  confused  notion  of  so  many  distinct  agents  in  us,  which  had 
their  several  provinces  and  authorities,  and  did  command,  obey, 
and  perform  several  actions,  as  so  many  distinct  beings  :  which 
has  been  no  small  occasion  of  wrangling,  obscurity,  and  uncer- 
tainty in  questions  relating  to  them. 

§  7.    WHENCE    THE  IDEA  OF  LIBERTY  AND  NECESSITY. 

Every  one,  I  think,  finds  in  himself  a  power  to  begin  or  tor- 
bear,  continue  or  put  an  end  to  several  actions  in  himself.  From 
the  consideration  of  the  extent  of  (his  power  of  the  mind  over 
the  actions  of  the  man,  which  every  one  finds  in  himself*  arise 
the  idea*  of  liberty  and  necessit-v, 


CH.   XXI.  j  OF  POWER.  iiJi 

§   8.     LIBERT V,  WIIA1  . 

All  the  actions  that  we  have  any  idea  of  reducing  themselves, 
as  has  been  said,  to  these  two,  viz.  thinking  and  motion  ;  so  far 
as  a  man  has  power  to  think,  or  not  to  think,  to  move,  or  not  to 
move,  according  to  the  preference  or  direction  of  his  own  mind: 
so  far  is  a  man  free.  Wherever  any  performance  or  forbearance 
arc  not  equally  in  a  man's  power  ;  wherever  doing  or  not  doing 
will  not  equally  follow  upon  the  preference  of  his  mind  directing 
it;  there  he  is  not  free,  though  perhaps  the  action  may  be  volun- 
tary. So  that  the  idea  of  liberty  is  the  idea  of  a  power  in  any 
agent  to  do  or  forbear  any  particular  action,  according  to  the 
determination  or  thought  of  the  mind,  whereby  either  of  them  is 
preferred  to  the  other :  where  either  of  them  is  not  in  the  power 
of  the  agent  to  be  produced  by  him  according  to  his  volition, 
there  he  is  not  at  liberty;  that  agent  is  under  necessity.  So  that 
liberty  cannot  be  where  there  is  no  thought,  no  volition,  no  will : 
but  there  may  be  thought,  there  may  be  will,  there  may  be  voli- 
tion, where  there  is  no  liberty.  A  little  consideration  of  an 
obvious  instance  or  two  may  make  this  clear. 

§  9.    SUPPOSES    THE  UNDERSTAI*  DINO  A\D  WILJ.. 

A  tennis-ball,  whether  in  motion  by  the  stroke  of  a  racket,  or 
lying  still  at  rest,  is  not  by  any  one  taken  to  be  a  free  agent. 
If  we  inquire  into  the  reason,  we  shall  find  it  is  because  we 
conceive  not  a  tennis-ball  to  think,  and  consequently  not  to 
have  any  volition,  or  preference  of  motion  to  rest,  or  vice  versa  ; 
and  therefore  has  not  liberty,  is  not  a  free  agent ;  but  all  its  both 
motion  and  rest  come  under  our  idea  of  necessary,  and  are  so 
ealled.  Likewise  a  man  falling  into  the  water,  (a  bridge  break- 
ing under  him)  has  not  herein  liberty,  is  not  a  free  agent.  For 
though  he  has  volition,  though  he  prefers  his  not  falling  to 
falling,  yet  the  forbearance  of  that  motion  not  being  in  his 
power,  the  stop  or  cessation  of  that  motion  follows  not  upon 
his  volition  ;  and  therefore  therein  he  is  not  free.  So  a  man 
striking  himself  or  his  friend,  by  a  convulsive  motion  of  his 
arm,  which  it  is  not  in  his  power,  by  volition  or  the  direction 
of  his  mind,  to  stop,  or  forbear,  nobody  thinks  he  has  in  this 
liberty  ;  every  one  pities  him,  as  acting  by  necessity  and  con- 
straint. 

.    BELONGS  NOT  TO   VOLITION. 

Igaih,  suppose  a  man  be  carried,  while  fast  asleep,  into  a 
room,  where  is  a  person  he  longs  to  see  and  speak  with,  and  be. 
there  locked  fast  in,  beyond  his  power  to  get  out,  he  awakes,  and 
is  glad  to  find  himself  in  so  desirable  company,  which  he  stays 
willingly  in,  i.  c.  prefers  his  stay  to  going  away;  I  ask.  Is  not  this 
stay  voluntary'  I  think  nobody  will  doubt  it;  arid  yet,  bein. 
locked  fast  in.  it  is  evident  he  is  not  at  liberty  not  to  stay,  tie  ha 
-  f\  freedom  <n  be  ,rono,     g0  thai  liberty  is  no!  an  idea  belon^nc 


;.i2ii  TO  POWER.  JiJooKii. 

to  volition,  -or  preferring  ;  but  to  the  person  having  the  power  of 
doing,  or  forbearing  to  do,  according  as  the  mind  shall  choose  or 
direct.  Our  idea  of  liberty  reaches  as  far  as  that  power,  and  no 
farther.  For  wherever  restraint  comes  to  check  that  power,  or 
compulsion  takes  away  that  indifferency  of  ability  on  either  side 
to  act,  or  to  forbear  acting,  there  liberty,  and  our  notion  of  it, 
presently  ceases. 

§   11.    VOLUNTARY  OPPOSED  TO  INVOLUNTARY,  NOT  TO  NECESSARY. 

We  have  instances  enough,  and  often  more  than  enough,  in 
our  own  bodies.  A  man's  heart  beats,  and  the  blood  circulates, 
which  it  is  not  in  his  power,  by  any  thought  or  volition  to  stop  ; 
and  therefore  in  respect  to  these  motions,  where  rest  depends 
not  on  his  choice,  nor  would  follow  the  determination  of  his 
mind,  if  it  should  prefer  it,  he  is  not  a  free  agent.  Convulsive 
motions  agitate  his  legs,  so  that,  though  he  wills  it  ever  so  much, 
he  cannot  by  any  power  of  his  mind,  stop  their  motion,  (as  in  that 
odd  disease  called  Chorea  Sancti  viti,)  but  he  is  perpetually- 
dancing  :  he  is  not  at  liberty  in  this  action,  but  under  as  much 
necessity  of  moving,  as  a  stone  that  falls,  or  a  tennis-ball  struck 
with  a  racket.  On  the  other  side,  a  palsy  or  the  stocks  hinder 
his  legs  from  obeying  the  determination  of  his  mind,  if  it  would 
thereby  transfer  his  body  to  another  place.  In  all  these  there  is 
want  of  freedom  ;  though  the  sitting  still  even  of  a  paralytic, 
whilst  he  prefers  it  to  a  removal,  is  truly  voluntary.  Voluntary 
then  is  not  opposed  to  necessary,  but  to  involuntary.  For  a  man 
may  prefer  what  he  can  do  to  what  he  cannot  do  ;  the  state  he 
is  in  to  its  absence  or  change,  though  necessity  has  made  it  in 
itself  unalterable, 

§   12.    LIBERTY,  WHAT. 

As  it  is  in  the  motions  of  the  body,  so  it  is  in  the  thoughts  ot 
our  minds  :  where  any  one  is  such  that  we  have  power  to  take  it 
up,  or  lay  it  by,  according  to  the  preference  of  the  mind,  there 
we  are  at  liberty.  A  waking  man  being  under  the  necessity  of 
having  some  ideas  constantly  in  his  mind,  is  not  at  liberty  to  think 
or  not  to  think,  no  more  than  he  is  at  liberty,  whether  his  body 
shall  touch  any  other  or  no  ;  but  whether  he  will  remove  his 
contemplation  from  one  idea  to  another  is  many  times  in  his 
choice  ;  and  then  he  is  in  respect  of  his  ideas  as  much  at  liberty 
as  he  is  in  respect  of  bodies  he  rests  on:  he  can  at  pleasure 
remove  himself  from  one  to  another.  But  yet  some  ideas  to  the 
mind,  like  some  motions  to  the  body,  are  such  as  in  certain  cir- 
cumstances it  cannot  avoid,  nor  obtain  their  absence  by  the 
utmost  effort  it  can  use.  A  man  on  the  rack  is  not  at  liberty  to 
lay  by  the  idea  of  pain,  and  divert  himself  with  other  contem- 
plations :  and  sometimes  a  boisterous  passion  hurries  our  thoughts 
as  a  hurricane  does  our  bodies,  without  leaving  us  the  liberty  of 
thinking  on  other  things,  which  we  would  rather  choose-     But  as 


C1I.  XXI.]  OF  POWER.  22o 

soon  as  the  mind  regains  the  power  to  stop  or  continue,  begin  or 
forbear,  any  of  these  motions  of  the  body  without,  or  thoughts 
within,  according  as  it  thinks  tit  to  prefer  either  to  the  other,  we 
then  consider  the  man  as  a  free  agent  again. 

§    13,    NECESSITY,  WHAT. 

Wherever  thought  is  wholly  wanting,  or  the  power  to  act  or 
forbear  according  to  the  direction  of  thought;  there  necessity 
takes  place.  This  in  an  agent  capable  of  volition,  when  the 
beginning  or  continuation  of  any  action  is  contrary  to  that  pre- 
ference of  his  mind,  is  called  compulsion  ;  when  the  hindering  or 
stopping  any  action,  is  contrary  to  his  volition,  it  is  called  restraint. 
Agents  that  have  no  thought,  no  volition  at  ail,  are  in  every  thing; 
iiecessary  agents. 

§   14.    LIBERTY  BELONGS  NOT  TO  THE  WILL. 

If  this  be  so  (as  1  imagine  it  is)  I  leave  it  to  be  considered 
whether  it  may  not  help  to  put  an  end  to  that  long  agitated,  and 
I  think  unreasonable,  because  unintelligible,  question,  viz.  Whe- 
ther man's  will  be  free  or  no  ?  For,  if  I  mistake  not,  it  follows 
from  what  I  have  said,  that  the  question  itself  is  altogether 
improper  ;  and  it  is  as  insignificant  to  ask,  whether  man's  will  be 
tree,  as  to  ask  whether  his  sleep  be  swift,  or  his  virtue  square  ; 
liberty  being  as  little  applicable  to  the  will  as  swiftness  of  motion 
is  to  sleep,  or  squareness  to  virtue.  Every  one  would  laugh  at 
the  absurdity  of  such  a  question  as  either  of  these  ;  because  it  is 
obvious  that  the  modifications  of  motion  belong  not  to  sleep, 
nor  the  difference  of  figure  to  virtue ;  and  when  any  one  well 
considers  it,  I  think  he  will  as  plainly  perceive  that  liberty, 
which  is  but  a  power,  belongs  only  to  agents,  and  cannot  be- 
an attribute  or  modification  of  the  will,  which  is  also  but  a 
power. 

§  15.  volition. 
Such  is  the  difficulty  of  explaining  and  giving  clear  notions  of 
internal  actions,  by  sounds,  that  1  must  here  warn  my  reader  that; 
ordering,  directing,  choosing,  preferring,  &c.  which  i  have  made 
use  of,  will  not  distinctly  enough  express  volition,  unless  he  will 
reflect  on  what  he  himself  does  when  he  wills.  For  example- 
preferring,  which  seems  perhaps  best  to  express  the  act  of  voli- 
tion, does  it  not  precisely.  Fur  though  a  man  would  prefer  flying 
to  walking,  yet  who  can  say  he  ever  wills  it  ?  Volition,  it  is  plain, 
is  an  act  of  the  mind  knowingly  exerting  that  dominion  it  takes 
itself  to  have  over  any  part  of  the  man,  by  employing  it  in,  or 
withholding  it  from,  any  particular  action.  And  what  is  the  will, 
hut  the  faculty  to  do  this  !  And  is  that  faculty  any  thing  more  in 
effect  than  a  power,  the  power  of  the  mind  to  determine  its 
thought,  to  the  producing,  continuing,  or  stopping  any  action,  as 
far  as  't  depends  on  as  ?     For  can  if  ho  fi<-ni*'rl.  that  whatever 


224  OF  POWER,  [BOOK  I.I.. 

agent  has  a  power  to  think  on  its  own  actions,  and  to  prefer  their 
doing  or  omission,  either  to  other,  has  that  faculty  called  will  ? 
Will  then  is  nothing  but  such  a  power.  Liberty,  on  the  other 
side,  is  the  power  a  man  has  to  do  or  forbear  doing  any  particular 
action,  according  as  its  doing  or  forbearance  has  the  actual  pre- 
ference in  the  mind ;  which  is  the  same  thing  as  to  say,  according 
as  he  himself  wills  it. 

§    16.    POWERS  BELONGING  TO  AGENTS. 

It  is  plain  then,  that  the  will  is  nothing  but  one  power  or  abi- 
}ity,  and  freedom  another  power  or  ability  :  so  that  to  ask,  Whe- 
ther the  will  has  freedom,  is  to  ask  whether  one  power  has  another 
power,  one  ability  another  ability  :  a  question  at  first  sight  too 
grossly  absurd  to  make  a  dispute,  or  need  an  answer.  For  who 
is  it  that  sees  not  that  powers  belong  only  to  agents,  and  are 
attributes  only  of  substances,  and  not  of  powers  themselves  ?  So 
that  this  way  of  putting  the  question,  viz.  Whether  the  will  be 
free  ?  is  in  effect  to  ask.  Whether  the  will  be  a  substance,  an. 
agent  ?  or  at  least  to  suppose  it,  since  freedom  can  properly  be 
attributed  to  nothing  else.  If  freedom  can  with  any  propriety 
of  speech  be  applied  to  power,  or  may  be  attributed  to  the  power 
that  is  in  a  man  to  produce  or  forbear  producing  motion  in  parts 
of  his  body,  by  choice  or  preference  ;  which  is  that  which  deno- 
minates him  free,  and  is  freedom  itself.  But  if  any  one  should 
ask  whether  freedom  were  free,  he  would  be  suspected  not  to 
understand  well  what  he  said ;  and  he  would  be  thought  to  de- 
serve Midas's  ears,  who,  knowing  that  rich  was  a  denomination 
for  the  possession  of  riches,  should  demand  whether  riches  them 
selves  were  rich. 

§17. 

However,  the  name  faculty,  which  men  have  given  to  this  power 
called  the  will,  and  whereby  they  have  been  led  into  a  way  of 
talking  of  the  will  as  acting,  may,  by  an  appropriation  that  dis- 
guises its  true  sense,  serve  a  little  to  palliate  the  absurdity  ;  yet 
the  will  in  truth  signifies  nothing  but  a  power,  or  ability,  to  prefer 
or  choose  :  and  when  the  will,  under  the  name  of  a  faculty,  is 
considered  as  it  is,  barely  as  an  ability  to  do  something,  the 
absurdity  in  saying  it  is  free,  or  not  free,  will  easily  discover 
itself.  For  if  it  be  reasonable  to  suppose  and  talk  of  faculties 
as  distinct  beings  that  can  act  (as  we  do,  when  we  say  the  will 
orders,  and  the  will  is  free,)  it  is  fit  that  we  should  make  a  speak- 
ing faculty,  and  a  walking  faculty,  and  a  dancing  faculty,  by  which 
those  actions  are  produced,  which  are  but  several  modes  of  mo- 
tion ;  as  well  as  we  make  the  will  and  understanding  to  be  faculties, 
by  which  the  actions  of  choosing  and  perceiving  are  produced, 
which  are  but  several  modes  of  thinking ;  and  we  may  as  pro- 
perly say,  that  it  is  the  singing  faculty  sings,  and  the  dancing 
faculty  dances :  as  that  the  will  chooses,  or  that  the  understandiini 


CH.  XXI. j  OF  POtWBR.  J25 

conceives  ;  or,  as  is  usual,  that  the  will  directs  the  understanding, 
or  the  understanding  obeys  or  obeys  not  the  will :  it  being  alto- 
gether as  proper  and  intelligible  to  say,  that  the  power  of  speak- 
ing directs  the  power  of  singing,  or  the  power  of  singing  obeys 
or  disobeys  the  power  of  speaking. 

§  18. 
This  way  of  talking,  nevertheless,  has  prevailed,  and,  as  I  gues^- 
produced  great  confusion.  For  these  being  all  different  powers 
in  the  mind,  or  in  the  man,  to  do  several  actions,  he  exerts  them 
as  he  thinks  fit:  but  the  power  to  do  one  action  is  not  operated 
on  by  the  power  of  doing  another  action.  For  the  power  of 
thinking  operates  not  on  the  power  of  choosing,  nor  the  power 
of  choosing  on  the  power  of  thinking  ;  no  more  than  the  power 
of  dancing  operates  on  the  power  of  singing,  or  the  power  of 
singing  on  the  power  of  dancing  ;  as  any  one,  who  reflects  on  it, 
will  easily  perceive  :  and  yet  this  is  it  which  we  say,  when  we 
thus  speak,  that  the  will  operates  on  the  understanding,  or  the 
understanding  on  the  will. 

§  19. 
I  grant,  that  this  or  that  actual  thought  may  be  the  occasion  of 
volition,  or  exercising  the  power  a  man  has  to  choose ;  or  the 
actual  choice  of  the  mind,  the  cause  of  actual  thinking  on  this 
or  that  thing:  as  the  actual  singing  of  such  a  tune  may  be  the 
cause  of  dancing  such  a  dance,  and  the  actual  dancing  of  such  a 
dance  the  occasion  of  singing  such  a  tune.  But  in  all  these  it  is 
not  one  power  that  operates  on  another ;  but  it  is  the  mind,  that 
operates,  and  exerts  these  powers  ;  it  is  the  man  that  does  the 
action ;  it  is  the  agent  that  has  power,  or  is  able  to  do.  For  powers 
are  relations,  not  agents  :  and  that  which  has  the  power  or  not 
the  power  to  operate,  is  that  alone  which  is  or  is  not  free,  and 
not  the  power  itself.  For  freedom,  or  not  freedom,  can  belong  to 
nothing  but  what  has  or  has  not  a  power  to  act. 

2Q:  i.iKr.K'i  >  belongs  iur  ro  the  wiu., 
The  attributing  to.  faculties  that  which  belonged  not  to  theiq, 
has  given  occasion  to  this  way  of  talking  :  but  the  introducing 
into  discourses  concerning  the  mind,  with  the  name  of  faculties, 
a  notion  of  their  operating,  has,  1  suppose,  as  little  advanced  our 
knowledge  in  that  part  of  ourselves,  as  the  great  use  and  mention 
of  the  like  invention  of  faculties,  in  the  operations  of  the  body, 
has  helped  us  in  the  knowledge  of  physic.  Not  that  f  deny  there 
are  faculties,  both  in  the  body  and  mind  :  they  both  of  them  haye 
their  powers  of  operating,  else  neither  the  one  nor  the  other 
could  operate.  For  nothing  can  operate  that  is  not  able  to  ope- 
rate ;  and  that  is  not  able  to  operate  that  has  no  power  to  ope- 
rate. Nor  do  I  deny,  that  those  words,  and  the  like,  are  to  have 
their  place  in  the  common  use  of  languages,  that  have  made  them 
Vol.  I.  ;>" 


i^O  OF  POWER.  [BOGK.  I& 

current,  it  looks  like  too  much  affectation  wholly  to  lay  them 
by  :  and  philosophy  itself,  though  it  likes  not  a  gaudy  dress,  yet 
when  it  appears  in  public,  must  have  so  much  complacency  as  to 
be  clothed  in  the  ordinary  fashion  and  language  of  the  country, 
so  far  as  it  can  consist  with  truth  and  perspicuity.  But  the  fault 
has  been,  that  faculties  have  been  spoken  of  and  represented  as 
so  many  distinct  agents.  For  it  being  asked,  what  it  was  that 
digested  the  meat  in  our  stomachs  ?  it  was  a  ready  arid  very 
satisfactory  answer,  to  say,  that  it  was  the  digestive  faculty. 
What  was  it  that  made  any  thing  come  out  of  the  body  ?  the 
expulsive  faculty.  What  moved  ?  the  motive  faculty.  And  so 
in  the  mind  the  intellectual  faculty,  or  the  understanding,  under- 
stood ;  and  the  elective  faculty,  or  the  will,  willed  or  commanded. 
This  is  in  short  to  say,  that  the  ability  to  digest,  digested ;  and  the 
ability  to  move,  moved  ;  and  the  ability  to  understand,  understood. 
For  faculty,  ability,  and  power,  I  think,  are  but  different  names 
of  the  same  things :  which  ways  of  speaking,  when  put  into  more 
intelligible  words,  will,  I  think,  amount  to  thus  much  ;  that  di- 
gestion is  performed  by  something  that  is  able  to  digest,  motion 
by  something  able  to  move,  and  understanding  by  something  able 
to  understand.  And  in  truth  it  would  be  very  strange  if  it  should 
be  otherwise ;  as  strange  as  it  would  be  for  a  man  to  be  free 
without  being  able  to  be  free. 

§  21.    BUT  TO  THR  AGENT  OR  MAX. 

To  return  then  to  the  inquiry  about  liberty,  I  think  the  question 
is  not  proper,  whether  the  will  be  free,  but  whether  a  man  be  free. 
Thus,  I  think, 

1 .  That  so  far  as  any  one  can,  by  the  direction  or  choice  of  his 
mind,  preferring  the  existence  of  any  action  to  the  nonexistence 
of  that  action,  and  vice  versa,  make  it  to  exist,  or  not  exist;  so  far 
he  is  free.     For  if  I  can,  by  a  thought  directing  the  motion  of 
my  finger,  make  it  move  when  it  was  at  rest,  or  vice  versa,  it  is 
evident,  that  in  respect  of  that  I  am  free  :  and  if  I  can,  by  a  like 
thought  of  my" mind,  preferring  one  to  the  other,  produce  either 
words  or  silence,  1  am  at  liberty  to  speak  or  hold  my  peace;  and 
as  far  as  this  power  reaches,  of  acting,  or  not  acting,  by  the  de- 
termination of  his  owrn  thoughts  preferring  either,  so  far  a  man  is 
free.     For  how  can  we  think  any  one  freer  than  to  have  the 
power  to  do  what  he  will  ?  And  so  far  as  any  one  can,  by  prefer- 
ring any  action  to  its  not  being,  or  rest  to  any  action,   produce 
that  action  or  rest,  so  far  can  he  do  what  he  will.     For  sue    a 
preferring  of  action  to  its  absence  is  the  willing  of  it;  and  we 
ean  scarce  tell  how  to  imagine  any  being  freer  than  to  be  able  to 
do  what  he  wills.     So  that  in  respect  of  actions  within  the  reach 
of  such  a  power  in  him,  a  man  seems  as  free,  as  it  is  possible  (or 
freedom  to  make  him. 


Ull.   .\Xi.j  OF  POWER.  .Ill 

§  22.    IN  RESPECT  OF  WILLING  A  MAN  IS  NOT  FREE. 

But  the  inquisitive  mind  of  man,  willing  to  shift  off  from  him- 
self, as  far  as  he  can,  all  thoughts  of  guilt,  though  it  be  by  putting 
himself  into  a  worse  state  than  that  of  fatal  necessity,  is  not  con- 
tent with  this  :  freedom,  unless  it  reaches  farther  than  this,  will 
not  serve  the  turn  :  and  it  passes  for  a  good  plea,  that  a  man  is 
not  free  at  all,  if  he  be  not  as  free  to  will  as  he  is  to  act  what  he 
wills.  Concerning  a  man's  liberty,  there  yet  therefore  is  raised 
this  farther  question,  Whether  a  man  be  free  to  will  ?  which  I 
think  is  what  is  meant,  when  it  is  disputed  whether  the  will  be 
free.     And  as  to  that  I  imagine, 

v  23. 

That  willing,  or  volition,  being  an  action,  and  freedom  consist- 
ing in  a  power  of  acting  or  not  acting,  a  man  in  respect  of  will- 
ing, or  the  act  of  volition,  when  any  action  in  his  power  is  once 
proposed  to  his  thoughts  as  presently  to  be  done,  cannot  be  free. 
The  reason  whereof  is  very  manifest:  for  it  being  unavoidable 
that  the  action  depending  on  his  will  should  exist  or  not  exist; — 
and  its  existence  or  not  existence,  following  perfectly  the  deter- 
mination and  preference  of  his  will ; — he  cannot  avoid  willing 
the  existence  or  not  existence  of  that  action  ;  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  that  he  will  the  one  or  the  other  ;  i.  c.  prefer  the  one 
to  the  other :  since  one  of  them  must  necessarily  follow  :  and 
that  which  does  follow,  follows  by  the  choice  and  determina- 
tion of  his  mind,  that  is,  by  his  willing  it :  for  if  he  did  not  will 
it,  it  would  not  be.  So  that  in  respect  of  the  act  of  willing,  a 
man  in  such  a  case  is  not  free  :  liberty  consisting  in  a  power  to 
act,  or  not  to  act ;  which,  in  regard  of  volition,  a  man,  upon  such 
a  proposal,  has  not.  For  it  is  unavoidably  necessary  to  prefer 
the  doing  or  forbearance  of  an  action  in  a  man's  power,  which 
is  once  so  proposed  to  his  thoughts  ;  a  man  must  necessarily  will 
the  one  or  the  other  of  them,  upon  which  preference  or  volition, 
the  action  or  its  forbearance  certainly  follows,  and  is  truly  volun- 
tary. But  the  act  of  volition,  or  preferring  one  of  the  two,  being 
that  which  he  cannot  avoid,  a  man  in  respect  of  that  act  of  will 
ing  is  under  a  necessity,  and  so  cannot  be  free  ;  unless  necessity 
and  freedom  can  consist  together,  and  a  man  can  be  free  and 
bound  at  once. 

§24. 

This  then  is  evident,  that  in  all  proposals  of  present  action,  a 
man  is  not  at  liberty  to  will  or  not  to  will,  because  he  cannot  for* 
bear  willing  :  liberty  consisting  in  a  power  to  act  or  to  forbear 
acting,  and  in  that  only.  For  a  man  that  sits  still  is  said  yet  to 
he  at  liberty,  because  he  can  walk  if  he  wills  it.  But  if  a  man 
sitting  still  has  not  a  power  to  remove  himself,  he  is  not  at  liberty , 
so  likewise  a  man  falling  down  a  precipice,  though  in  motion,  is 
not  at  liberty,  because  he  cannot  stop  that  motion  if  he  would,. 


22S  OF  POWER.  |  BOOK  U> 

This  being  so,  it  is  plain  that  a  man  that  is  walking,  to  whom 
it  is  proposed  to  give  off  walking,  is  not  at  liberty  whether  he 
will  determine  himself  to  walk,  or  give  olF  walking,  or  no  ;  he 
must  necessarily  prefer  one  or  the  other  of  them,  walking  or  not 
walking  ;  and  so  it  is  in  regard  of  all  other  actions  in  our  power 
so  proposed,  which  are  the  far  greater  number.  For  consider- 
ing the  vast  number  of  voluntary  actions  that  succeed  one  another 
every  moment  that  we  are  awake  in  the  course  of  our  lives, 
there  are  but  few  of  them  that,  are  thought  on,  or  proposed  to 
the  will  till  the  time  they  are  to  be  done ;  and  in  all  such  actions. 
as  I  have  shown,  the  mind  in  respect  of  willing  has  not  a  power 
lo  act,  or  not  to  act,  wherein  consists  liberty.  The  mind  in  that 
case  has  not  a  power  to  forbear  willing  ;  it  cannot  avoid  some 
determination  concerning  them,  let  the  consideration  be  as  short, 
the  thought  as  quick,  as  it  will ;  it  either  leaves  the  man  in  the 
state  he  was  before  thinking,  or  changes  it;  continues  the  action, 
or  puts  an  end  to  it.  Whereby  it  is  manifest,  that  it  orders  and 
directs  one,  in  preference  to  or  with  neglect  of  the  other,  and 
thereby  either  the  continuation  or  change  becomes  unavoidably 
voluntary. 

§  25.  THE  WILL  DETERMINED  BY  SOMETHING  WITHOUT  IT, 

Since  then  it  is  plain,  that  in  most  cases  a  man  is  not  at  liberty, 
whether  he  will,  or  no  ;  the  next  thing  demanded,  is,  whether  a 
man  be  at  liberty  to  will  which  of  the  two  he  pleases,  motion  or 
rest  ?  This  question  carries  the  absurdity  of  it  so  manifestly  in 
itself,  that  one  might  thereby  sufficiently  be  convinced  that  liberty 
concerns  not  the  will.  For  to  ask,  whether  a  man  be  at  liberty 
to  will  either  motion  or  rest,  speaking  or  silence,  which  he 
pleases  ;  is  to  ask,  whether  a  man  can  will  what  he  wills,  or  be 
pleased  with  what  he  is  pleased  with  ?  A  question  which,  I  think, 
needs  no  answer  ;  and  they  who  can  make  a  question  of  it,  must 
suppose  one  will  to  determine  the  acts  of  another,  and  another 
to  determine  ihnt ;  and  so  on  in  infinitum. 

§  26. 
To  avoid  these  and  the  like  absurdities,  nothing  can  be  of 
greater  use,  than  to  establish  in  our  minds  determined  ideas  of 
the  things  under  consideration.  If  the  ideas  of  liberty  and  vo 
lition  were  well  fixed  in  the  understandings,  and  carried  along 
with  us  in  our  minds,  as  they  ought,  through  all  the  questions  that 
are  raised  about  them,  I  suppose  a  great  part  of  the  difficulties 
that  perplex  men's  thoughts,  and  entangle  their  understandings, 
would  be  much  easier  resolved,  and  we  should  perceive  where 
the  confused  signification  of  terms,  or  where  the  nature  of  the 
thing  caused  the  obscuritv. 


<H.  XXI.  ]  OV   t'"\\  I  i'i!t 

§  27.    FREEDOM. 

First,  then,  it  is  carefully  to  be  remembered,  that  freedom  con- 
sists in  the  dependence  of  the  existence,  or  not  existence  of  any 
action,  upon  our  volition  of  it;  and  not  in  the  dependence  of 
any  action,  or  its  contrary,  on  our  preference.  A  man  standing 
on  a  cliff  is  at  liberty  to  leap  twenty  yards  downward  into  the 
sea,  not  because  he  has  a  power  to  do  the  contrary  action, 
which  is  to  leap  twenty  yards  upwards,  for  that  he  cannot  do  ;  but 
he  is  therefore  free,  because  he  has  a  power  to  leap  or  not  to 
leap.  But  if  a  greater  force  than  bis  either  holds  him  fast,  or 
tumbles  him  down,  he  is  no  longer  free  in  that  case ;  because 
the  doing  or  forbearance  of  that  particular  action  is  no  longer  in 
his  power.  He  that  is  a  close  prisoner  in  a  room  twenty  feet 
square,  being  at  the  north  side  of  his  chamber,  is  at  liberty  to 
walk  twenty  feet  southward,  because  he  can  walk  or  not  walk  it ; 
but  is  not,  at  the  same  time,  at  liberty  to  do  the  contrary,  i.  e.  to 
walk  twenty  feet  northward. 

In  this  then  consists  freedom,  viz.  in  our  being  able  to  act  or 
not  to  act^  according  as  we  shall  choose  or  will. 

§  28.    VOLITION,  WHAT. 

Secondly,  we  must  remember,  that  volition  or  willing  is  an 
act  of  the  mind  directing  its  thought  to  the  production  of  any 
action,  and  thereby  exerting  its  power  to  produce  it.  To  avoid 
multiplying  of  words,  I  would  crave  leave  here,  under  the  word 
action,  to  comprehend  the  forbearance  too  of  any  action  propo- 
sed ;  sitting  still,  or  holding  one's  peace,  when  walking  or  speaking 
are  proposed,  though  mere  forbearances,  requiring  as  much  the 
determination  of  the  will,  and  being  as  often  weighty  in  their  con- 
sequences as  the  contrary  actions,  may.  on  that  consideration,  well 
enough  pass  for  actions  too  :  but  this  I  say,  that  I  may  not  be 
mistaken,  if  for  brevity  sake  I  speak  thus. 

§29.    WHAT  DETERMINES  THE  WILL. 

Thirdly,  The  will  being  nothing  but  a  power  in  the  mind  to 
direct  the  operative  faculties  of  a  man  to  motion  or  rest,  as  far  as 
they  depend  on  such  direction  ;  to  the  question,  What  is  it  de- 
termines the  will  ?  the  true  and  proper  answer  is,  The  mind. 
For  that  which  determines  the  general  power  of  directing  to 
this  or  that  particular  direction,  is  nothing  but  the  agent  itself 
exercising  the  power  it  has  that  particular  way.  If  this  answer 
-atislies  not,  it  is  plain  the  meaning  of  the  question,  What  deter- 
mines the  will  ?  is  this,  What  moves  the  mind,  in  every  particu- 
lar instance,  to  determine  its  general  power  of  directing  to  this 
or  that  particular  motion  or  rest?  And  to  this  I  answer,  the 
motive  for  continuing  in  fche  same  s(;iie  or  action,  is  only  the  pre- 
sent satisfaction  in  it  ;  the  motive  to  change  is  always  some 
uneasiness  :  nothing  sotting  us  upon  the  change  of  state,  or  upon 
any  new  action,  but  sonic  uneasiness.     This  <y  the  irreat  motive. 


;&30  UF  POWER.  [book  II. 

that  works  on  the  mind  to  put  it  upon  action,  which  for  shortness 
sake  we  will  call  determining  of  the  will ;  which  I  shall  more  at 
large  .xplain. 

§30.  WILL  AND  DESIRE  MUST  NOT  BE  CONFOUNDED. 

But,  in  the  way  to  it,  it  will  be  necessary  to  premise,  that 
(hough  I  have  above  endeavoured  to  express  the  act  of  volition 
by  choosing,  preferring,  and  the  like  terms,  that  signify  desire  as 
well  as  volition,  for  want  of  other  words  to  mark  that  action  of 
the  mind,  whose  proper  name  is  willing  or  volition  ;  yet  it  being 
a  very  simple  act,  whosoever  desires  to  understand  what  it  is. 
will  better  find  it  bv  reflecting  on  his  own  mind,  and  observing 
what  it  does  when  it  wills,  than  by  any  variety  of  articulate- 
sounds  whatsoever.  This  caution  of  being  careful  not  to  be 
misled  by  expressions  that  do  not  enough  keep  up  the  difference 
between  the  will  and  several  acts  of  the  mind  that  are  quite 
distinct  from  it,  I  think  the  more  necessary ;  because  I  find  the 
will  often  confounded  with  several  of  the  affections,  especially 
desire,  and  one  put  for  the  other  ;  and  that  by  men  who  would 
not  willingly  be  thought  not  to  have  had  very  distinct  notions  of 
things,  and  not  to  have  writ  very  clearly  about  them.  This,  I 
imagine,  has  been  no  small  occasion  of  obscurity  and  mistake  in 
this  matter  ;  and  therefore  is,  as  much  as  may  be,  to  be  avoided. 
For  he  that  shall  turn  his  thoughts  inwards  upon  what  passes  in 
his  mind  when  he  wills,  shall  see  that  the  will  or  power  of  volition 
is  conversant  about  nothing  but  that  particular  determination  of 
the  mind,  whereby  barely  by  a  thought  the  mind  endeavours  to 
give  rise,  continuation,  or  stop,  to  any  action  which  it  takes  to 
be  in  its  power.  This,  well  considered,  plainly  shows  that  the 
will  is  perfectly  distinguished  from  desire  ;  which  in  the  very 
same  action  may  have  a  quite  contrary  tendency  from  that  which 
our  will  sets  us  upon.  A  man  whom  I  cannot  deny,  may  oblige 
me  to  use  persuasions  to  another,  which,  at  the  same  time  I  am 
speaking,  1  may  wish  may  not  prevail  on  him.  In  this  case,  it  is 
plain  the  will  and  desire  run  counter.  I  will  the  action  that 
tends  one  way,  whilst  my  desire  tends  another,  and  that  the 
direct  contrary  way.  A  man  who  by  a  violent  fit  of  the  gout  in 
his  limbs  finds  a  doziness  in  his  head,  or  a  want  of  appetite  in  his 
stomach  removed,  desires  to  be  eased  too  of  the  pain  of  his  feet 
or  hands  (for  wherever  there  is  pain  there  is  a  desire  to  be  rid  of 
it)  though  yet,  whilst  he  apprehends  that  the  removal  of  the  pain 
may  translate  the  noxious  humour  to  a  more  vital  part,  his  will  is 
never  determined  to  any  one  action  that  may  serve  to  remove  this 
pain.  Whence  it  is  evident  that  desiring  and  willing  are  two 
distinct  acts  of  the  mind  ;  and  consequently  that  the  will,  which 
is  but  the  power  of  volition,  is  much  more  distinct  from  desire. 


CH.  XXI. J  OK  POWER.  lol 

§  3,1;    UNEASINESS  DETERMINES   XilE  WILL. 

To  return  then  to  the  inquiry,  What  is  it  that  determines  the 
will  in  regard  to  our  actions  1  And  that,  upon  second  thoughts. 
1  am  apt  to  imagine  is  not,  as  is  generally  supposed,  the  greater 
good  in  view,  but  some  (and  for  the  most  part  the  most  pressing) 
uneasiness  a  man  is  at  present  under.  This  is  that  which  suc- 
cessively determines  the  will,  and  sets  us  upon  those  actions  we 
perform.  This  uneasiness  we  may  call,  as  it  is,  desire  ;  which 
is  an  uneasiness  of  the  mind  for  the  want  of  some  absent  good. 
All  pain  of  the  body,  of  what  sort  soever,  and  disquiet  of  the 
mind,  is  uneasiness :  and  with  this  is  always  joined  desire,  equal 
to  the  pain  or  uneasiness  felt,  and  is  scarce  distinguishable  from 
it.  For  desire  being  nothing  but  an  uneasiness  in  the  want  of  an 
absent  good,  in  reference  to  any  pain  felt,  ease  is  that  absent 
good  5  and  till  that  ease  be  attained,  we  may  call  it  desire,  no- 
body feeling  pain  that  he  wishes  not  to  be  eased  of,  with  a  desire 
equal  to  that  pain,  and  inseparable  from  it.  Besides  this  desire 
of  ease  from  pain,  there  is  another  of  absent  positive  good  ;  and 
here  also  the  desire  and  uneasiness  are  equal.  As  much  as  wre 
desire  any  absent  good,  so  much  are  we  in  pain  for  it.  But  here 
all  absent  good  does  not,  according  to  the  greatness  it  has,  or  is 
acknowledged  to  have,  cause  pain  equal  to  that  greatness  ;  as  all 
pain  causes  desire  equal  to  itself:  because  the  absence  of  good 
is  not  always  a  pain,  as  the  presence  of  pain  is.  And  therefore 
absent  good  may  be  looked  on  and  considered  without  desire. 
But  so  much  as  there  is  any  where  of  desire,  so  much  there  is  of 
uneasiness. 

§  32.    DESIRE  IS  UNEASINESS'. 

That  desire  is  a  state  of  uneasiness,  every  one  who  reflects  on 
himself  will  quickly  find.  Who  is  there  that  has  not  felt  in  de- 
sire what  the  wise  man  says  of  hope  (which  is  not  much  differ- 
ent from  it,)  "that  it  being  deferred,  makes  the  heart  sick  ?"  and 
ihat  still  proportionable  to  the  greatness  of  the  desire  ;  which 
sometimes  raises  the  uneasiness  to  that  pitch,  that  it  makes  peo- 
ple cry  out,  Give  me  children,  give  me  the  thing  desired,  or  I 
die  ?  Life  itself,  and  all  its  enjoyments,  is  a  burden,  cannot  be 
borne  under  the  lasting  and  unremoved  pressure  of  such  an 
nneasiness. 

§  33.    THE  UNEASINESS  OF  DESIRE  1>E  1  ERMINES  THE  WILL. 

( iood  and  evil,  present  and  absent,  it  is  true,  work  upon  tin 
mind  :  but  that  which  immediately  determines  the  will,  from 
lime  to  time,  to  every  voluntary  action,  is  the  uneasiness  of 
desire,  fixed  on  some  absent  good  ;  cither  negative,  as  indolence 
To  one  in  pain  ;  or  positive,  as  enjoyment  of  "pleasure.  That  it 
i-;  (his  uneasiness  that  determines  the  will  to  the  successive, 
voluntary  actions,  whereof  the  greatest  part  of  our  lives  is  made 
up.  and  by  which  we  are  conducted  through  different  courses  to 


23 1  oftpower.  [book  ir. 

different  ends,  I  shall  endeavour  to  show,  both  from  experience 
and  the  reason  of  the  thing. 

§  34.    THIS   IS  THE  SPRING  OF  ACTION. 

When  a  man  is  perfectly  content  with  the  state  he  is  in,  which 
is,  when  he  is  perfectly  without  any  uneasiness,  what  industry, 
what  action,  what  will  is  there  left,  but  to  continue  in  it  ?  of  this 
every  man's  observation  will  satisfy  him.  And  thus  we  see  our 
All  wise  Maker,  suitably  to  our  constitution  and  frame,  and 
knowing  what  it  is  that  determines  the  will,  has  put  into  man  the 
uneasiness  of  hunger  and  thirst,  and  other  natural  desires,  that 
return  at  their  seasons  to  move  and  determine  their  wills,  for  the 
preservation  of  themselves,  and  the  continuation  of  their  species. 
For  I  think  we  may  conclude,  that  if  the  bare  contemplation  of 
these  good  ends,  to  which  we  are  carried  by  these  several  unea- 
sinesses, had  been  sufficient  to  determine  the  will,  and  set  us  on 
work,  we  should  have  had  none  of  these  natural  pains,  and  per- 
haps in  this  world  little  or  no  pain  at  all.  "  it  is  better  to 
marry  than  to  burn,"  says  St.  Paul ;  where  we  may  see  what  it 
is  that  chiefly  drives  men  into  the  enjoyments  of  conjugal  life. 
A  little  burning  felt  pushes  us  more  powerfully  than  greater  plea- 
sures in  prospect  draw  or  allure. 

S  35.    THE  GREATEST  POSITIVE  GOOD  DETERMINES  NOT  THE  WILL.. 
BUT  UNEASINESS. 

It  seems  so  established  and  settled  a  maxim  by  the  general 
eoosent  of  all  mankind,  that  good,  the  greater  good,  determines 
the  will,  that  I  do  not  at  ail  wonder,  that  when  I  first  published 
my  thoughts  on  this  subject,  I  took  it  for  granted  ■  and  I  imagine 
that  by  a  great  many  I  shall  be  thought  more  excusable  for  having- 
then  done  so,  than  that  now  I  have  ventured  to  recede  from  so 
received  an  opinion.  But  yet,  upon  a  stricter  inquiry,  I  am 
forced  to  conclude,  that  good,  the  greater  good,  though  appre- 
hended, and  acknowledged  to  be  so,  does  not  determine  the  will. 
until  our  desire,  raised  proportionably  to  it,  makes  us  uneasy  in 
the  want  of  it.  Convince  a  man  ever  so  much  that  plenty  has 
its  advantages  over  poverty;  make  him  see  and  own,  that  the 
handsome  conveniences  of  life  are  better  than  nasty  penury  : 
yet  as  long  as  he  is  content  with  the  latter,  and  finds  no  uneasi- 
ness in  it,°he  moves  not ;  his  will  never  is  determined  to  any 
action  that  shall  bring  him  out  of  it.  Let  a  man  be  ever  so 
well  persuaded  of  the  advantages  of  virtue,  that  it  is  as  neces- 
sary to  a  man  who  has  any  great  aims  in  this  world,  or  hopes  in 
the  next,  as  food  to  life;  yet,  till  he  hungers  and  thirsts  after 
righteousness,  till  he  feels  an,  uneasiness  in  the  want  of  it,  his 
will  will  not  be  determined  to  any  action  in  pursuit  of  this  con- 
fessed greater  good  ;  but  any  other  uneasiness  he  feels  in  him- 
self shall  take  place,  and  carry  his  will  to  other  actions.  On  the 
5ther  side;  lei  a  drunted  see  thai  his  health  decays,  fais; estate 


DH.    XXI.  ]  OF   POWER.  233 

wastes  ;  discredit  and  diseases,  and  the  want  of  all  things,  even  of 
his  beloved  drink,  attends  him  in  the  course  he  follows  ;  yet  the 
returns  of  uneasiness  to  miss  his  companions,  the  habitual  thirst 
after  his  cups  at  the  usual  time,  drives  him  to  the  tavern,  though 
he  has  in  his  view  the  loss  of  health  and  plenty,  and  perhaps  of 
the  joys  of  another  life:  the  least  of  which  is  no.  inconsiderable 
good,  but  such  as  he  confesses  is  far  greater  than  the  tickling  of 
his  palate  with  a  glass  of  wine,  or  the  idle  chat  of  a  soaking  club. 
It  is  not  want  of  viewing  the  greater  good  ;  for  he  sees  and 
acknowledges  it,  and,  in  the  intervals  of  his  drinking  hours,  will 
take  resolutions  to  pursue  the  greater  good;  but  when  the  unea- 
siness to  miss  his  accustomed  delight  returns,  the  greater  acknow- 
ledged good  loses  its  hold,  and  the  present  uneasiness  determines 
the  will  to  the  accustomed  action  ;  which  thereby  gets  stronger 
footing  to  prevail  against  the  next  occasion,  though,  he  at  the 
same  time  makes  secret  promises  to  himself,  that  he  will  do  so 
no  more  :  this  is  the  last  time  he  will  act  against  the  attainment 
of  those  greater  goods.  And  thus  he  is  from  time  to  time  in  the 
state  of  that  unhappy  complainer,  video  meliora  proboque,  deteri- 
ora  sequor :  which  sentence,  allowed  for  true,  and  made  good  by 
constant  experience,  may  this,  and  possibly  no  other  way,  be 
easily  made  intelligible. 

§  36.    BECAUSE  THE  REMOVAL  OF  UNEASINESS  IS  THE  FIRST  STEP  TO 
HAPPINESS. 

If  we  inquire  into  the  reason  of  what  experience  makes  so 
evident  in  fact,  and  examine  why  it  is  uneasiness  alone  operates 
on  the  will,  and  determines  it  in  its  choice :  we  shall  find  that  we 
being  capable  but  of  one  determination  of  the  will  to  one  action 
at  once,  the  present  uneasiness  that  we  are  under  does  naturally 
determine  the  will,  in  order  to  that  happiness  which  we  all  aim  at 
in  all  our  actions  ;  forasmuch  as  whilst  we  are  under  any  uneasi- 
ness, we  cannot  apprehend  ourselves  happy,  or  in  the  way  to  it : 
pain  and  uneasiness  being,  by  every  one,  concluded  and  felt  to 
be  inconsistent  with  happiness,  spoiling  the  relish  even  of  those 
good  things  which  we  have  ;  a  little  pain  serving  to  mar  all  the 
pleasure  we  rejoiced  in.  And  therefore  that  which  of  course 
determines  the  choice  of  our  will  to  the  next  action,  will  always 
be  the  removing  of  pain,  as  long  as  we  have  any  left,  as  the  first 
and  necessary  step  towards  happiness. 

§  37.    BECAUSE  UNEASINESS  ALONE  IS   PRESENT. 

Another  reason  why  it  is  uneasiness  alone  determines  the  will, 
may  be  this  :  because  that  alone  is  present,  and  it  is  against  the 
nature  of  things  that  what  is  absent,  should  operate  where  it  is 
not.  It  may  be  said,  that  absent  good  may  by  contemplation  be 
brought  home  to  the  mind,  and  made  present.  The  idea  of  it 
indeed  may  be  in  the  mind  and  viewed  as  present  there  ;  but 
nothing  will  be  in  the  mind  as  a  present  good,  able  to  counter- 

Vol.  I.  30 


234  of  power,  [book  ir. 

balance  the  removal  of  any  uneasiness  which  we  are  under,  till 
it  raises  our  desire  ;  and  the  uneasiness  of  that  has  prevalency 
in  determining  the  will.  Till  then,  the  idea  in  the  mind  of 
whatever  good,  is  there  only,  like  other  ideas,  the  object  of  bare 
unactive  speculation,  but  operates  not  on  the  will,  nor  sets  us  on 
work  ;  the  reason  whereof  [  shall  show  by  and  by.  How  many 
are  to  be  found,  that  have  had  lively  representations  set  before 
their  minds  of  the  unspeakable  joys  of  heaven,  which  they 
acknowledge  both  possible  and  probable  too,  who  yet  would  be 
content  to  take  up  with  their  happiness  here  ?  And  so  the  pre- 
vailing uneasinesses  of  their  desires,  let  loose  after  the  enjoyments 
of  this  life,  take  their  turns  in  the  determining  their  wills  :  and 
all  that  while  they  take  not  one  step,  are  not  one  jot  moved 
towards  the  good  things  of  another  life,  considered  as  ever  so 
great. 

§  38.    BECAUSK  ALL  WHO  ALLOW  THE  JOYS  OF  HEAVEN  POSSIBLE,  PUR- 
SUE  THEM  NOT. 

Were  the  will  determined  by  the  views  of  good,  as  it  appears 
in  contemplation  greater  or  less  to  the  understanding,  which 
is  the  state  of  all  absent  good,  and  that  which  in  the  received 
opinion  the  will  is  supposed  to  move  to,  and  to  be  moved  by,  I 
do  not  see  how  it  could  ever  get  loose  from  the  infinite  eternal 
joys  of  heaven,  once  proposed  and  considered  as  possible.  For 
all  absent  good,  by  which  alone,  barely  proposed  and  coming  in 
view,  the  will  is  thought  to  be  determined,  and  so  to  set  us  on 
action,  being  only  possible,  but  not  infallibly  certain  ;  it  is  una- 
voidable, that  the  infinitely  greater  possible  good  should  regularly 
and  constantly  determine  the  will  in  all  the  successive  actions  it 
directs  :  and  then  we  should  keep  constantly  and  steadily  in  our 
course  towards  heaven,  without  ever  standing  still,  or  directing 
our  actions  to  any  other  end  ;  the  eternal  condition  of  a  future 
state  infinitely  outweighing  the  expectation  of  riches  or  honour, 
or  any  other  worldly  pleasure  which  we  can  propose  to  ourselves, 
though  we  should  grant  these  the  more  probable  to  be  obtained  : 
fpr  nothing  future  is  yet  in  possession,  and  so  the  expectation 
even  of  these  may  deceive  us.  If  it  were  so,  that  the  greater 
good  in  view  determines  the  will,  so  great  a  good  once  proposed 
could  not  but  seize  the  will,  and  hold  it  fast  to  the  pursuit  of  this 
infinitely  greatest  good,  without  ever  letting  it  go  again  ;  for  the 
will  having  a  power  over  and  directing  the  thoughts  as  well  as 
other  actions,  would,  if  it  were  so,  hold  the  contemplation  of  the 
mind  fixed  to  that  good. 

BUT  ANY  GREAT  UNEASINESS  IS  NEVER  NEGLECTEP. 

This  would  be  the  state  of  the  mind  and  regular  tendency  of 
ihe  will  in  all  its  determinations,  were  it  determined  by  that 
which  is  considered  and  in  view  the  greater  good  ;  but  that  it  is 
not  so  is  visible  in  experience  :  the  infinitely  greatest  confessed 


i  II.   XXI.]  OP  POWER, 

good  being  often  neglected  to  satisfy  the  successive  uneasiness  of 
our  desires  pursuing  trifles.  But  though  the  greatest  allowed, 
even  everlasting  unspeakable  good,  which  has  sometimes  moved 
and  affected  the  mind,  does  not  steadfastly  hold  the  will,  yet  we 
see  any  very  great  and  prevailing  uneasiness,  having  once  laid 
hold  on  the  will,  lets  it  not  go ;  by  which  we  may  be  convinced 
what  it  is  that  determines  the  will.  Thus  any  vehement  pain  of 
the  body,  the.  ungovernable  passion  of  a  man  violently  in  love, 
or  the  impatient  desire  of  revenge,  keeps  the  will  steady  and 
intent ;  and  the  will,  thus  determined,  never  lets  the  understand- 
ing lay  by  the  object,  but  all  the  thoughts  of  the  mind  and 
powers  of  the  body  are  uninterruptedly  employed  that  way,  by 
the  determination  of  the  will,  influenced  by  that  topping  uneasi- 
ness as  long  as  it  lasts  ;  whereby  it  seems  to  me  evident,  that  the 
will  or  power  of  setting  us  upon  one  action  in  preference  to  all 
other,  is  determined  in  us  by  uneasiness.  And  whether  this  be 
not  so,  I  desire  every  one  to  observe  in  himself. 

§  39.    DESIRE  ACCOMPANIES  ALL  UNEASINESS. 

I  have  hitherto  chiefly  instanced  in  the  uneasiness  of  desire, 
as  that  which  determines  the  will,  because  that  is  the  chief  and 
most  sensible,  and  the  will  seldom  orders  any  action,  nor  is  there 
any  voluntary  action  performed,  without  some  desire  accompa- 
nying it ;  which  I  think  is  the  reason  why  the  will  and  desire  are 
so  often  confounded.  But  yet  we  are  not  to  look  upon  the  unea- 
siness which  makes  up,  or  at  least  accompanies  most  of  the 
other  passions,  as  wholly  excluded  in  the  case.  Aversion,  fear, 
anger,  envy,  shame,  &c.  have  each  their  uneasiness  too,  and 
thereby  influence  the  will.  These  passions  are  scarce  any  of 
them  in  life  and  practice  simple  and  alone,  and  wholly  unmixed 
with  others  ;  though  usually  in  discourse  and  contemplation,  that 
carries  the  name  which  operates  strongest,  and  appears  most  in 
the  present  state  of  the  mind  :  nay,  there  is,  I  think,  scarce  any 
of  the  passions  to  be  found  without  desire  joined  with  it.  I  am 
sure,  wherever  there  is  uneasiness,  there  is  desire  :  for  we  con- 
stantly desire  happiness;  and  whatever  we  feel  of  uneasiness,  so 
much  it  is  certain  we  want  of  happiness,  even  in  our  own  opinion, 
let  our  state  and  condition  otherwise  be  what  it  will.  Besides, 
the  present  moment  not  being  our  eternity,  whatever  our  enjoy- 
ment be,  we  look  beyond  the  present,  and  desire  goes  with  our 
foresight,  and  that  still  carries  the  will  with  it.  So  that  even  in 
joy  itself,  that  which  keeps  up  the  action,  whereon  the  enjoyment 
depends,  is  the  desire  to  continue  it,  and  fear  to  lose  it:  and 
whenever  a  greater  uneasiness  than  that  takes  place  in  the  mind, 
the  will  presently  is  by  that  determined  to  some  new  action,  and 
the  present  delight  neglected. 


236  OF  POWER.  [BOOK  II. 


§  40.    THE  MOST  PRESSING  UNEASINESS  NATURALLY  DETERMINES  THE 

WILL. 

But  we  being  in  this  world  beset  with  sundry  uneasinesses,  dis- 
tracted with  different  desires,  the  next  inquiry  naturally  will  be, 
which  of  them  has  the  precedency  in  determining  the  will  to  the 
next  action  ?  and  to  that  the  answer  is,  that  ordinarily  which  is 
the  most  pressing  of  those  that  are  judged  capable  of  being  then 
removed.  For  the  will  being  the  power  of  directing  our  opera- 
tive faculties  to  some  action,  for  some  end,  cannot  at  any  time  be 
moved  towards  what  is  judged  at  that  time  unattainable  :  that 
would  be  to  suppose  an  intelligent  being  designedly  to  act  for  an 
end  only  to  lose  its  labour,  for  so  it  is  to  act  for  what  is  judged 
not  attainable  :  and  therefore  very  great  uneasinesses  move 
not  the  will,  when  they  are  judged  not  capable  of  a  cure  :  they, 
in  that  case,  put  us  not  upon  endeavours.  But  these  set  apart, 
the  most  important  and  urgent  uneasiness  we  at  that  time  feel,  is 
that  which  ordinarily  determines  the  will  successively  in  that 
train  of  voluntary  actions  which  makes  up  our  lives.  The  great- 
est present  uneasiness  is  the  spur  to  action  that  is  constantly  felt, 
and  for  the  most  part  determines  the  will  in  its  choice  of  the  next 
action.  For  this  we  must  carry  along  with  us,  that  the  proper 
and  only  object  of  the  will  is  some  action  of  ours,  and  nothing 
else  :  for  we  producing  nothing  by  our  willing  it  but  some  action 
in  our  power,  it  is  there  the  will  terminates,  and  reaches  no 
farther. 

§41.    ALL    DESIRE    HAPPINESS. 

If  it  be  farther  asked,  what  it  is  moves  desire  ?  I  answer,  Hap- 
piness, and  that  alone.  Happiness  and  misery  are  the  names  of 
two  extremes,  the  utmost  bounds  whereof  we  know  not ;  it  is 
what  "  eye  hath  not  seen,  ear  not  heard,  nor  hath  it  entered  into 
the  heart  of  man  to  conceive."  But  of  some  degrees  of  both 
we  have  very  lively  impressions,  made  by  several  instances  of 
delight  and  joy  on  the  one  side,  and  torment  and  sorrow  on  the 
other  ;  which,  for  shortness  sake,  I  shall  comprehend  under  the 
names  of  pleasure  and  pain,  there  being  pleasure  and  pain  of 
the  mind  as  well  as  the  body  :  "  with  him  is  fulness  of  joy 
and  pleasure  for  evermore."  Or,  to  speak  truly,  they  are 
all  of  the  mind  ;  though  some  have  their  rise  in  the  mind 
from  thought,  others  in  the  body  from  certain  modifications  of 
motion. 

§  42.    HAPPINESS,  WHAT. 

Happiness,  then,  in  its  full  extent,  is  the  utmost  pleasure  we 
are  capable  of,  and  misery  the  utmost  pain :  and  the  lowest  degree 
of  what  can  be  called  happiness  is  so  much  ease  from  all  pain, 
and  so  much  present  pleasure,  as  without  which  any  one  cannot 
be  content.     Now  because  pleasure  and  pain  are  produced  in  us 


CH.  XXI.]  OP  POWER.  237 

by  the  operation  of  certain  objects,  either  on  our  minds  or  our 
bodies,  and  in  different  decrees,  therefore  what  has  an  aptness  to 
produce  pleasure  in  us  is  that  we  call  good,  and  what  is  apt  to 
produce  pain  in  us  we  call  evil,  for  no  other  reason  but  for  its 
aptness  to  produce  pleasure  and  pain  in  us,  wherein  consists  our 
happiness  and  misery.  Farther,  though  what  is  apt  to  produce 
any  degree  of  pleasure  be  in  itself  good,  and  what  is  apt  to  pro- 
duce any  degree  of  pain  be  evil,  yet  it  often  happens  that  we  do 
not  call  it  so  when  it  comes  in  competition  with  a  greater  of  its 
sort ;  because  when  they  come  in  competition,  the  degrees  also 
of  pleasure  and  pain  have  justly  a  preference.  So  that  if  we  will 
rightly  estimate  what  we  call  good  and  evil,  we  shall  find  it  lies 
much  in  comparison  :  for  the  cause  of  every  less  degree  of  pain, 
as  well  as  every  greater  degree  of  pleasure  has  the  nature  of 
good,  and  vice  versa* 

§  43.    WHAT  GOOD  IS  DESIRED,  WHAT  NOT. 

Though  this  be  that  which  is  called  good  and  evil,  and  all  good 
be  the  proper  object  of  desire  in  general,  yet  all  good,  even  seen, 
and  confessed  to  be  so,  does  not  necessarily  move  every  particu- 
lar man's  desire,  but  only  that  part,  or  so  much  of  it  as  is  consi- 
dered and  taken  to  make  a  necessary  part  of  his  happiness. 
All  other  good,  however  great  in  reality  or  appearance,  excites 
not  a  man's  desires,  who  looks  not  on  it  to  make  a  part  of  that 
happiness  wherewith  he,  in  his  present  thoughts,  can  satisfy  him- 
self. Happiness,  under  this  view,  every  one  constantly  pursues, 
and  desires  what  makes  any  part  of  it :  other  things,  acknow- 
ledged to  be  good,  he  can  look  upon  without  desire,  pass  by,  and 
be  content  without.  There  is  nobody,  I  think,  so  senseless  as  to 
deny  that  there  is  pleasure  in  knowledge  :  and  for  the  pleasures 
of  sense,  they  have  too  many  followers  to  let  it  be  questioned 
whether  men  are  taken  with  them  or  no.  Now  let  one  man 
place  his  satisfaction  in  sensual  pleasures,  another  in  the  delight 
of  knowledge  :  though  each  of  them  cannot  but  confess  there  is 
great  pleasure  in  what  the  other  pursues,  yet  neither  of  them 
making  the  other's  delight  a  part  of  his  happiness,  their  desires 
are  not  moved,  but  each  is  satisfied  without  what  the  other  enjoys, 
and  so  his  will  is  not  determined  to  the  pursuit  of  it.  But  yet  as 
soon  as  the  studious  man's  hunger  and  thirst  make  him  uneasy, 
he,  whose  will  was  never  determined  to  any  pursuit  of  good 
cheer,  poignant  sauces,  delicious  wine,  by  the  pleasant  taste  he 
has  found  in  them,  is,  by  the  uneasiness  of  hunger  and  thirst,  pre- 
sently determined  to  eating  and  drinking,  though  possibly  with 
great  indifferency,  what  wholesome  food  comes  in  his  way.  And 
on  the  other  side,  the  epicure  buckles  to  study  when  shame,  or 
the  desire  to  recommend  himself  to  his  mistress,  shall  make  him 
uneasy  in  the  want  of  any  sort  of  knowledge.  Thus,  how  much 
soever  men  are  in  earnest,  and  constant  in  pursuit  of  happiness, 
yet  they  may  have  a  clear  view  of  good,  great  and  confessed 


238  OF  POWER.  [book  n . 

good ,  without  being  concerned  for  it,  or  moved  by  it,  if  they 
think  they  can  make  up  their  happiness  without  it.  Though  as 
to  pain,  that  they  are  always  concerned  for ;  they  can  feel  no 
uneasiness  without  being  moved.  And  therefore  being  uneasy  in 
the  want  of  whatever  is  judged  necessary  to  their  happiness,  as 
soon  as  any  good  appears  to  make  a  part  of  their  portion  of  hap- 
piness, they  begin  to  desire  it. 

§  44.    WHY  THE  GREATEST  GOOD  IS  NOT  ALWAYS  DESIRED. 

This,  I  think,  any  one  may  observe  in  himself  and  others,  that 
the  greater  visible  good  does  not  always  raise  men's  desires  in 
proportion  to  the  greatness  it  appears  and  is  acknowledged  to 
have  ;  though  every  little  trouble  moves  us,  and  sets  us  on  work 
to  get  rid  of  it.  The  reason  whereof  is  evident  from  the  nature 
of  our  happiness  and  misery  itself.  All  present  pain,  whatever 
it  be,  makes  a  part  of  our  present  misery  :  but  all  absent  good 
does  not  at  any  time  make  a  necessary  part  of  our  present  hap- 
piness, nor  the  absence  of  it  make  a  part  of  our  misery.  If  it 
did,  we  should  be  constantly  and  infinitely  miserable;  there  being 
infinite  degrees  of  happiness  which  are  not  in  our  possession. 
All  uneasiness  therefore  being  removed,  a  moderate  portion  of 
good  serves  at  present  to  content  men  ;  and  some  few  degrees  of 
pleasure,  in  a  succession  of  ordinary  enjoyments,  make  up  a 
happiness  wherein  they  can  be  satisfied.  If  this  were  not  so, 
there  could  be  no  room  for  those  indifferent  and  visibly  trifling 
actions,  to  which  our  wills  ace  so  often  determined,  and  wherein 
we  voluntarily  waste  so  much  of  our  lives  ;  which  remissness 
could  by  no  means  consist  with  a  constant  determination  of  will 
or  desire  to  the.  greatest  apparent  good.  That  this  is  so,  I  think 
few  people  need  go  far  from  home  to  be  convinced.  And  indeed 
in  this  life  there  are  not  many  whose  happiness  reaches  so  far  as 
to  afford  them  a  constant  train  of  moderate  mean  pleasures  with- 
out any  mixture  of  uneasiness ;  and  yet  they  could  be  content  to 
stay  here  for  ever:  though  they  cannot  deny,  but  that  it  is  possi- 
ble there  may  be  a  state  of  eternal  durable  joys  after  this  life, 
far  surpassing  all  the  good  that  is  to  be  found  here.  Nay,  they 
cannot  but  see  that  it  is  more  possible  than  the  attainment  and 
continuation  of  that  pittance  of  honour,  riches,  or  pleasure,  which 
they  pursue,  and  for  which  they  neglect  that  eternal  state  :  but 
yet  in  full  view  of  this  difference,  satisfied  of  the  possibility  of  a 
perfect,  secure,  and  lasting  happiness  in  a  future  state,  and  under 
a  clear  conviction  that  it  is  not  to  be  had  here,  whilst  they  bound 
their  happiness  within  some  little  enjoyment  or  aim  of  this  life, 
and  exclude  the  joys  of  heaven  from  making  any  necessary  part 
of  it,  their  desires  are  not  moved  by  this  greater  apparent  good, 
nor  their  wills  determined  to  any  action  or  endeavour  for  it« 
attainment. 


CH.  XXI.  j  OP  POWER.  239 

§  45.    WHY   NOT  BEING  DESIRED,  IT  MOVES  NOT  THE  WILL. 

The  ordinary  necessities  of  our  lives  fill  a  great  part  of  them 
with  the  uneasiness  of  hunger,  thirst,  heat,  cold,  weariness  of 
labour,  and  sleepiness,  in  their  constant  returns,  &c.  To  which 
if,  besides  accidental  harms,  we  add  the  fantastical  uneasiness  (as 
itch  after  honour,  power,  or  riches,  &c.)  which  acquired  habits 
by  fashion,  example,  and  education,  have  settled  in  us,  and  a 
thousand  other  irregular  desires,  which  custom  has  made  natural 
to  us  5  we  shall  find,  that  a  very  little  part  of  our  life  is  so  vacant 
from  these  uneasinesses,  as  to  leave  us  free  to  the  attraction  of 
remoter  absent  good.  We  are  seldom  at  ease,  and  free  enough 
from  the  solicitation  of  our  natural  or  adopted  desires,  but  a 
constant  succession  of  uneasinesses  out  of  that  stock,  which 
natural  wants  or  acquired  habits  have  heaped  up,  take  the  will  in 
their  turns  :  and  no  sooner  is  one  action  despatched,  which  by 
such  a  determination  of  the  will  we  are  set  upon,  but  another 
uneasiness  is  ready  to  set  us  on  work.  For  the  removing  of  the 
pains  we  feel,  and  are  at  present  pressed  with,  being  the  getting 
out  of  misery,  and  consequently  the  first  thing  to  be  done  in  order 
to  happiness,  absent  good,  though  thought  on,  confessed,  and 
appearing  to  be  good,  not  making  any  part  of  this  unhappiness  in 
its  absence,  is  justled  out  to  make  way  for  the  removal  of  those 
uneasinesses  we  feel ;  till  due  and  repeated  contemplation  has 
brought  it  nearer  to  our  mind,  given  some  relish  of  it,  and  raised 
in  us  some  desire  :  which  then  beginning  to  make  a  part  of  our 
present  uneasiness,  stands  upon  fair  terms  with  the  rest  to  be 
satisfied  :  and  so,  according  to  its  greatness  and  pressure,  comes 
in  its  turn  to  determine  the  will. 

§  46.    DUE  CONSIDERATION  RAISES  DESIRE. 

And  thus,  by  a  due  consideration,  and  examining  any  good 
proposed,  it  is  in  our  power  to  raise  our  desires  in  a  due  propor- 
tion to  the  value  of  that  good,  whereby  in  its  turn  and  place  it 
may  come  to  work  upon  the  will  and  be  pursued.  For  good, 
though  appearing,  and  allowed  ever  so  great,  yet  till  it  has  raised 
desires  in  our  minds,  and  thereby  made  us  uneasy  in  its  want,  it 
reaches  not  our  wills  ;  we  are  not  within  the  sphere  of  its  activity; 
our  wills  being  under  the  determination  only  of  those  uneasi- 
nesses which  are  present  to  us,  which  (whilst  we  have  any)  are 
always  soliciting,  and  ready  at  hand  to  give  the  will  its  next  deter- 
mination ;  the  balancing,  when  there  is  any  in  the  mind,  being 
only  which  desire  shall  be  next  satisfied,  which  uneasiness  first 
removed.  Whereby  it  comes  to  pass,  that  as  long  as  any  uneasi- 
ness, any  desire  remains  in  our  mind,  there  is  no  room  for  good, 
barely  as  such,  to  come  at  the  will,  or  at  all  to  determine  it.  Be- 
cause, as  had  been  said,  the  first  step  in  our  endeavours  alter  hap- 
piness being  to  get  wholly  out  of  the  confines  of  misery,  and  to 
feel  no  part  of  it,  the  will  can  be  at  leisure  for  nothing  else,  till 
every  uneasiness  we  feel  be  perfectly  removed  5  which,  in  tb< 


240  OF  POWER.  [book  II. 

multitude  of  wants  and  desires  we  are  beset  with  in  this  imperfect 
state,  we  are  not  like  to  be  ever  freed  from  in  this  world. 

§  47.    THE  POWER  TO  SUSPEND  THE  PROSECUTION  ON  ANY  DESIRE 
MAKES  WAY  FOR  CONSIDERATION. 

There  being  in  us  a  great  many  uneasinesses  always  soliciting 
and  ready  to  determine  the  will,  it  is  natural,  as  I  have  said,  that 
the  greatest  and  most  pressing  should  determine  the  will  to  the 
next  action ;  and  so  it  does  for  the  most  part,  but  not  always. 
For  the  mind  having  in  most  cases,  as  is  evident  in  experience,  a 
power  to  suspend  the  execution  and  satisfaction  of  any  of  its 
desires,  and  so  all,  one  after  another,  is  at  liberty  to  consider  the 
objects  of  them,  examine  them  on  all  sides,  and  weigh  them  with 
others.  In  this  lies  the  liberty  man  has  ;  and  from  the  not  using 
of  it  right  comes  all  that  variety  of  mistakes,  errors,  and  faults 
which  we  run  into  in  the  conduct  of  our  lives,  and  our  endea- 
vours after  happiness  ;  whilst  we  precipitate  the  determination 
of  our  wills,  and  engage  too  soon  before  due  examination.  To 
prevent  this,  we  have  a  power  to  suspend  the  prosecution  of  this 
or  that  desire,  as  every  one  daily  may  experiment  in  himself* 
This  seems  to  me  the  source  of  all  liberty  ;  in  this  seems  to  con- 
sist that  which  is  (as  I  think  improperly)  called  free-will.  For 
during  this  suspension  of  any  desire,  before  the  will  be  determi- 
ned to  action,  and  the  action  (which  follows  that  determination) 
done,  we  have  opportunity  to  examine,  view,  and  judge  of  the 
good  or  evil  of  what  we  are  going  to  do  ;  and  when,  upon  due 
examination,  we  have  judged,  we  have  done  our  duty,  all  that  we 
can  or  ought  to  do  in  pursuit  of  our  happiness  ;  and  it  is  not  a 
fault,  but  a  perfection  of  our  nature  to  desire,  will,  and  act 
according  to  the  last  result  of  a  fair  examination. 

§  48.    TO  BE  DETERMINED  BY  OUR  OWN  JUDGMENT,  IS  NO  RESTRAINT  TO 

LIBERTY. 

This  is  so  far  from  being  a  restraint  or  diminution  of  freedom, 
that  it  is  the  very  improvement  and  benefit  of  it ;  it  is  not  an 
abridgment,  it  is  the  end  and  use  of  our  liberty  ;  and  the  farther 
we  are  removed  from  such  a  determination,  the  nearer  we  are  to 
misery  and  slavery.  A  perfect  indifferency  in  the  mind  not  de- 
terminable by  its  last  judgment  of  the  good  or  evil  that  is  thought 
to  attend  its  choice,  would  be  so  far  from  being  an  advantage  and 
excellency  of  any  intellectual  nature,  that  it  would  be  as  great 
an  imperfection  as  the  want  of  indifferency  to  act  or  not  to  act 
till  determined  by  the  will,  would  be  an  imperfection  on  the 
other  side.  A  man  is  at  liberty  to  lift  up  his  hand  to  his  head,  or 
let  it  rest  quiet ;  he  is  perfectly  indifferent  in  either ;  and  it 
would  be  an  imperfection  in  him  if  he  wanted  that  power,  if  he 
were  deprived  of  that  indifferency.  But  it  would  be  as  great  an 
imperfection  if  he  had  the  same  indifferency  whether  he  would 
prefer  the  lifting  up  his  hand,  or  its  remaining  in  rest,  when  it 


I'M.  XXI.  j  OF  POWER,  Ml 

would  save  his  head  or  eyes  from  a  blow  he  sees  coming  :  it  is  as 
much  a  perfection  that  desire,  or  the  power  of  preferring,  should 
be  determined  by  good,  as  that  the  power  of  acting  should  be 
determined  by  the  will  :  and  the  certainer  such  determination  is, 
the  greater  is  the  perfection.  Nay,  were  we  determined  by  any 
thing  but  the  last  result  of  our  own  minds,  judging  of  the  good  or 
evil  of  any  action,  we  were  not  free  ;  the  very  end  of  our  free- 
dom being,  that  we  may  attain  the  good  we  choose.  And  there- 
fore every  man  is  put  under  a  necessity  by  his  constitution,  as  an 
intelligent  being,  to  be  determined  in  willing  by  his  own  thought 
and  judgment  what  is  best  for  him  to  do  :  else  he  would  be  under 
the  determination  of  some  other  than  himself,  which  is  want  of 
liberty.  And  to  deny  that  a  man's  will,  in  every  determination, 
follows  his  own  judgment,  is  to  say,  that  a  man  wills  and  acts  for 
an  end  that  he  would  not  have,  at  the  time  that  he  wills  and  acts 
for  it.  For  if  he  prefers  it  in  his  present  thoughts  before  any 
other,  it  is  plain  he  then  thinks  better  of  it,  and  would  have  it 
before  any  other  ;  unless  he  can  have  and  not  have  it,  will  and 
not  will  it,  at  the  same  time  ;  a  contradiction  too  manifest  to  be 
admitted ! 

§  49.  THE  FREEST  AGENTS  ARE  SO  DETERMINED. 

If  we  look  upon  those  superior  beings  above  us,  who  enjoy 
perfect  happiness,  we  shall  have  reason  to  judge  that  they  are 
more  steadily  determined  in  their  choice  of  good  than  we  ;  and 
yet  we  have  no  reason  to  think  they  are  less  happy  or  less  free 
than  we  are.  And  if  it  were  fit  for  such  poor  finite  creatures  as 
we  are  to  pronounce  what  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness  could 
do,  I  think  we  might  say,  that  God  himself  cannot  choose  what 
is  not  good  ;  the  freedom  of  the  Almighty  hinders  not  his  behiLr 
determined  by  what  is  best. 

§  50.    A  CONSTANT  DETERMINATION  TO  A  PURSUIT  OF  HAPPINESS 

NO  ABRIDGMENT  OF  LIRERTV. 

But  to  give  a  right  view  of  this  mistaken  part  of  liberty,  let 
me  ask,  "  Would  any  one  be  a  changeling,  because  he  is  less 
determined  by  wise  considerations  than  a  wise  man  ?  Is  it  worth 
the  name  of  freedom  to  be  at  liberty  to  play  the  fool,  and  draw 
shame  and  misery  upon  a  man's  self'"  If  to  break  loose  from 
the  conduct  of  reason,  and  to  want  that  restraint  of  examination 
and  judgment,  which  keeps  us  from  choosing  or  doing  the  worse, 
be  liberty,  true  liberty,  madmen  and  fools  arc  the  only  freemen  : 
but  yet,  I  think,  nobody  would  choose  to  be  mad  for  the  sake  of 
such  liberty,  but  he  that  is  mad  already.  The  constant  desire  of 
happiness,  and  the  constraint  it  puts  upon  us  to  act  for  it,  no- 
body, I  think,  accounts  an  abridgment  of  liberty,  or  at;  least  an 
abridgment  of  liberty  to  be  complained  of.  God  Almighty  him- 
self is  under  the  necessity  of  being  happy  ;  and  the  more  any 
intelligent  being  is  so.  the  nearer  is  its  approach  <o  infinite  per 

Vox.  I.  31 


24^  OF  POWER.  [book  II. 

fcction  and  happiness.  That  in  this  state  of  ignorance  we  short- 
sighted creatures  might  not  mistake  true  felicity,  we  are  endowed 
with  a  power  to  suspend  any  particular  desire,  and  keep  it  from 
determining  the  will,  and  engaging  us  in  action.  This  is  standing 
still,  where  we  are  not  sufficiently  assured  of  the  way:  exami- 
nation is  consulting  a  guide.  The  determination  of  the  will 
upon  inquiry  is  following  the  direction  of  that  guide  :  and  he 
that  has  a  power  to  act  or  not  to  act,  according  as  such  determi- 
nation directs,  is  a  free  agent ;  such  determination  abridges  not 
that  power  wherein  liberty  consists.  He  that  has  his  chains 
knocked  off,  and  the  prison  doors  set  open  to  him,  is  perfectly  at 
liberty,  because  he  may  either  go  or  stay,  as  he  best  likes  ;  though 
his  preference  be  determined  to  stay,  by  the  darkness  of  the 
night,  or  illness  of  the  weather,  or  want  of  other  lodging.  He 
ceases  not  to  be  free,  though  the  desire  of  some  convenience  to 
be  had  there  absolutely  determines  his  preference,  and  makes 
him  stay  in  his  prison. 

§  51.    THE  NECESSITY  OF  PURSUING  TRUE  HAPPINESS  THE   FOUNDATION' 

OF  LIBERTY. 

As  therefore  the  highest  perfection  of  intellectual  nature  lies 
in  a  careful  and  constant  pursuit  of  true  and  solid  happiness,  so 
the  care  of  ourselves,  that  we  mistake  not  imaginary  for  real 
happiness,  is  the  necessary  foundation  of  our  liberty.  The 
stronger  ties  we  have  to  an  unalterable  pursuit  of  happiness  in 
general,  which  is  our  greatest  good,  and  which,  as  such,  our 
desires  always  follow,  the  more  are  Ave  free  from  any  necessary 
determination  of  our  will  to  any  particular  action,  and  from  a 
necessary  compliance  with  our  desire,  set  upon  any  particular 
and  then  appearing  preferable  good,  till  we  have  duly  examined 
whether  it  has  a  tendency  to,  or  be  inconsistent  with,  our  real 
happiness :  and  therefore  till  we  are  so  much  informed  upon  this 
inquiry  as  the  weight  of  the  matter  and  the  nature  of  the  case 
demands,  we  are,  by  the  necessity  of  preferring  and  pursuing 
true  happiness  as  our  greatest  good,  obliged  to  suspend  the  satis- 
faction of  our  desires  in  particular  cases. 

§   52.    THE  REASON  OF  IT. 

This  is  the  hinge  on  which  turns  the  liberty  of  intellectual 
beings,  in  their  constant  endeavours  after,  and  a  steady  prosecu- 
tion of  true  felicity,  that  they  can  suspend  this  prosecution  in 
particular  cases,  till  they  had  looked  before  them,  and  informed 
themselves  whether  that  particular  thing,  which  is  then  proposed 
or  desired,  lie  in  the  way  to  their  main  end,  and  make  a  real  part 
of  that  which  is  their  greatest  good  ;  for  the  inclination  and  ten- 
dency of  their  nature  to  happiness  is  an  obligation  and  motive 
to  them  to  take  care  not  to  mistake  or  miss  it :  and  so  necessa- 
rily puts  them  upon  caution,  deliberation,  and  weariness,  in  the 
direction  of  their  particular  actions,  which  are  the  means  to 


PJH.  xxi.]  of  pontii.  "i4'3 

obtain  it.  Whatever  necessity  determines  to  the  pursuit  of  real 
bliss,  the  same  necessity  with  the  same  force  establishes  suspense, 
deliberation,  and  scrutiny  of  each  successive  desire,  whether  the 
satisfaction  of  it  does  not  interfere  with  our  true  happiness,  and 
mislead  us  from  it.  This,  as  seems  to  me,  is  the  great  privilege 
of  finite  intellectual  beings  ;  and  I  desire  it  may  be  well  con- 
sidered, whether  the  great  inlet  and  exercise  of  all  the  liberty 
men  have,  are  capable  of,  or  can  be  useful  to  them,  and  that 
whereon  depends  the  turn  of  their  actions,  does  not  lie  in  this, 
that  they  can  suspend  their  desires,  and  stop  them  from  deter- 
mining their  wills  to  any  action,  till  they  have  duly  and  fairly 
examined  the  good  and  evil  of  it,  as  far  forth  as  the  weight  of 
the  thing  requires.  This  we  are  able  to  do  ;  and  when  we  have 
done  it,  we  have  done  our  duty,  and  all  that  is  in  our  power,  and 
indeed  all  that  needs.  For  since  the  will  supposes  knowledge 
to  guide  its  choice,  and  all  that  we  can  do  is  to  hold  our  wills 
undetermined  till  we  have  examined  the  good  and  evil  of  what 
we  desire,  what  follows  after  that,  follows  in  a  chain  of  conse- 
quences linked  one  to  another,  all  depending  on  the  last  determi- 
nation of  the  judgment;  which,  whether  it  shall  be  upon  a  hasty 
and  precipitate  view,  or  upon  a  due  and  mature  examination,  is 
in  our  power:  experience  showing  us,  that  in  most  cases  we  are 
able  to  suspend  the  present  satisfaction  of  any  desire. 

"    53.    GOVERNMENT  OF  OUR  PASSIONS  THE  RIGHT  IMPROVEMENT  OF 

LIBERTY. 

But  if  any  extreme  disturbance  (as  sometimes  it  happens) 
possesses  our  whole  mind,  as  when  the  pain  of  the  rack,  an  impe- 
tuous uneasiness,  as  of  love,  anger,  or  any  other  violent  passion, 
running  away  with  us,  allows  us  not  the  liberty  of  thought,  and 
we  are  not  masters  enough  of  our  own  minds  to  consider  tho- 
roughly and  examine  fairly ;  God,  who  knows  our  frailty,  pities 
our  weakness,  and  requires  of  us  no  more  than  we  are  able  to 
do,  and  sees  what  was  and  what  was  not  in  our  power,  will  judge 
as  a  kind  and  merciful  father.  But  the  forbearance  of  a  too  hasty 
compliance  with  our  desires,  the  moderation  and  restraint  of  our 
passions,  so  that  our  understandings  may  be  free  to  examine,  and 
reason  unbiassed  give  its  judgment,  being  that  whereon  a  right 
direction  of  our  conduct  to  true  happiness  depends  ;  it  is  in  this 
we  should  employ  our  chief  care  and  endeavours.  In  this  we 
should  take  pains  to  suit  the  relish  of  our  minds  to  the  true 
intrinsic  good  or  ill  that  is  in  things,  and  not  permit  an  allowed 
or  supposed  possible  great  and  weighty  good  to  slip  out  of  our 
thoughts,  without  leaving  any  relish,  any  desire  of  itself  there, 
till,  by  a  due  consideration  of  its  true  worth,  we  have  formed 
appetites  in  our  minds  suitable  to  it,  and  made  ourselves  uneasy 
in  the  want  of  it,  or  in  the  fear  of  losing  it.  And  how  much  this 
is  in  every  one's  power,  by  makii)g"resolutions  to  himself  such 
as  be  ,,,:,v  k^ep,  )=;  easy  for  every  <">iip  to  try,     Noi  lei  any  obi 


J4i  OF  POVVKK.  [BOOK  II, 

say  he  cannot  govern  his  passions,  nor  hinder  them  from  breaking 
out.  and  carrying  him  into  action  ;  for  what  he  can  do  before  a 
prince,  or  a  great  man,  he  can  do  alone,  or  in  the  presence  of 
God,  if  he  will. 

§  54.    HOW  MEN   COME  TO  PURSUE  DIFFERENT  COURSES. 

From  what  has  been  said,  it  is  easy  to  give  an  account  how  it 
comes  to  pass,  that  though  all  men  desire  happiness,  yet  their 
wills  carry  them  so  contrarily,  and  yet  consequently  some  of 
them  do  what  is  evil.  And  to  this  1  say,  that  the  various  and 
contrary  choices  that  men  make  in  the  world  do  not  argue  that 
they  do  not  all  pursue  good,  but  that  the  same  thing  is  not  good 
to  every  man  alike.  This  variety  of  pursuits  shows,  that  every 
one  does  not  place  his  happiness  in  the  same  thing,  or  choose  the 
same  way  to  it.  Were  all  the  concerns  of  man  terminated  in 
this  life,  why  one  followed  study  and  knowledge,  and  another 
hawking  and  hunting ;  why  one  chose  luxury  and  debauchery, 
and  another  sobriety  and  riches  ;  would  not  be,  because  every 
one  of  these  did  not  aim  at  his  own  happiness,  but  because  their 
happiness  was  placed  in  different  things.  And  therefore  it  was 
a  right  answer  of  the  physician  to  his  patient  that  had  sore  eyes  : 
If  you  have  more  pleasure  in  the  taste  of  wine  than  in  the  use  of 
your  sight,  wine  is  good  for  you  ;  but  if  the  pleasure  of  seeing  be 
greater  to  you  than  that  of  drinking,  wine  is  naught. 

§55. 

The  mind  has  a  different  relish,  as  well  as  the  palate  ;  and  you 
will  as  fruitlessly  endeavour  to  delight  all  men  with  riches  or 
glory  (which  yet  some  men  place  their  happiness  in)  as  you 
would  to  satisfy  all  men's  hunger  with  cheese  or  lobsters  ;  which 
though  very  agreeable  and  delicious  fare  to  some,  are  to  others 
extremely  nauseous  and  offensive  :  and  many  people  would  with 
reason  prefer  the  griping  of  an  hungry  belly  to  those  dishes 
which  arc  a  feast  to  others.  Hence  it  was,  I  think,  that  the 
philosophers  of  old  did  in  vain  inquire,  whether  sunnmim  bonum 
consisted  in  riches,  or  bodily  delights,  or  virtue,  or  contempla- 
tion :  and  they  might  have  as  reasonably  disputed  whether  the 
best  relish  were  to  be  found  in  apples,  plums,  or  nuts,  and  have 
divided  themselves  into  sects  upon  it.  For  as  pleasant  tastes 
depend  not  on  the  things  themselves,  but  their  agreeableness  to 
this  or  that  particular  palate,  wherein  there  is  great  variety ;  so 
the  greatest  happiness  consists  in  the  having  those  things  which 
produce  the  greatest  pleasure,  and  in  the  absence  of  those  which 
cause  any  disturbance,  any  pain.  Now  these,  to  different  men. 
are  very  different  things.  If  therefore  men  in  this  life  onh 
have  hope,  if  in  this  life  they  can  only  enjoy,  it  is  not  strange 
nor  unreasonable  that  they  should  seek  their  happiness  by  avoid- 
ing all  things  that  disease  them  here,  and  by  pursuing  all  thai 
delight  them  :  therein  \\  i •':!!  he  no  wonder  to  find  variety  and 


OH.  XXI. j  OK  POWER.  ZA'j 

difference.  For  11  there  be  no  prospect  beyond  the  grave,  the 
inference  is  certainly  right,  "  let  us  eat  and  drink,"  let  us  enjoy 
what  we  delight  in,  "  for  to-morrow  we  shall  die."  This,  I  think, 
may  serve  to  show  us  the  reason  why,  though  all  men's  desires 
tend  to  happiness,  yet  they  are  not  moved  by  the  same  object. 
Men  may  choose  different  things,  and  yet  all  choose  right ;  sup- 
posing them  only  like  a  company  of  poor  insects,  whereof  some 
;tre  bees,  delighted  with  flowers  and  their  sweetness  ;  others 
beetles,  delighted  with  other  kinds  of  viands,  which  having 
enjoyed  for  a  season,  they  would  cease  to  be,  and  exist  no  more 
tor  ever. 

§  56.    HOW  MEN  COME  TO  CHOOSE  ILI "., 

These  things,  duly  weighed,  will  give  us,  as  I  think,  a  clear 
view  into  the  state  of  human  liberty.  Liberty,  it  is  plain, 
consists  in  a  power  to  do,  or  not  to  do ;  to  do,  or  forbear  doing, 
as  we  will.  This  cannot  be  denied.  But  this  seeming  to  com- 
prehend only  the  actions  of  a  man  consecutive  to  volition,  it  is 
farther  inquired,  "  whether  he  be  at  liberty  to  will,  or  no."  And 
to  this  it  has  been  answered,  that  in  most  cases  a  man  is  not  at 
liberty  to  forbear  the  act  of  volition  :  he  must  exert  an  act  of  his 
will,  whereby  the  action  proposed  is  made  to  exist,  or  not  to 
exist.  But  yet  there  is  a  case  wherein  a  man  is  at  liberty  in 
respect  of  willing,  and  that  is  the  choosing  of  a  remote  good  as 
an  end  to  be  pursued.  Here  a  man  may  suspect  the  act  of  his 
choice  from  being  determined  for  or  against  the  thing  proposed, 
till  he  has  examined  whether  it  be  really  of  a  nature  in  itself, 
and  consequences  to  make  him  happy,  or  no.  For  when  he  has 
once  chosen  it,  and  thereby  it  is  become  a  part  of  his  happiness, 
it  raises  desire,  and  that  proportionably  gives  him  uneasiness, 
which  determines  his  will,  and  sets  him  at  work  in  pursuit  of  his 
choice  on  all  occasions  that  offer.  And  here  we  may  see  how  it 
comes  to  pass,  that  a  man  may  justly  incur  punishment,  though 
it  be  certain  that  in  all  the  particular  actions  that  he  wills  he 
does,  and  necessarily  does  will  that  which  he  then  judges  to  be 
good.  For,  though  his  will  be  always  determined  by  that  which 
is  judged  good  by  his  understanding,  yet  it  excuses  him  not: 
because,  by  a  too  hasty  choice  of  his  own  making,  he  has  imposed 
on  himself  wrong  measures  of  good  and  evil ;  which,  however 
false  and  fallacious,  have  the  same  influence  on  all  his  future 
conduct  as  if  they  were  true  and  right.  He  has  vitiated  his  own 
palate,  and  must  be  answerable  to  himself  for  the  sickness  and 
death  that  follows  from  it.  The  eternal  law  and  natureof 
things  must  not  be  altered  to  comply  with  his  ill-ordered  choice. 
If  the  neglect  or  abuse  of  the  liberty  he  had  to  examine  what 
would  really  and  truly  make  for  his  happiness  misleads  him,  the 
miscarriages  that  follow  on  it  must  be  imputed  to  its  own 
election.  I  le  hud  a  power  to  suspend  his  determination  :  it  was 
given  him  fhtfl  he  might  examine  and  take  care  61  !>i<  own  hap 


LMti  OF  POWER.  [BOOK  II. 

piness,  and  look  that  he  were  not  deceived.  And  he  could 
never  judge,  that  it  was  better  to  be  deceived  than  not,  in  a 
matter  of  so  great  and  near  concernment. 

What  has  been  said  may  also  discover  to  us  the  reason  why 
men  in  this  world  prefer  different  things,  and  pursue  happiness 
by  contrary  courses.  But  yet,  since  men  are  always  constant, 
and  in  earnest,  in  matters  of  happiness  and  misery,  the  question 
still  remains,  How  men  come  often  to  prefer  the  worse  to  the 
better ;  and  to  choose  that  which,  by  their  own  confession,  has 
made  them  miserable  ? 

§57. 

To  account  for  the  various  and  contrary  ways  men  take, 
though  all  aim  at  being  happy,  we  must  consider  whence  the 
various  uneasinesses,  that  determine  the  will  in  the  preference 
of  each  voluntary  action,  have  their  rise. 

FROM  BODILY   PAINS. 

1 .  Some  of  them  come  from  causes  not  in  our  power  :  such  as 
are  often  the  pains  of  the  body  from  want,  disease,  or  outward 
injuries,  as  the  rack,  &c.  which,  when  present  and  violent,  ope- 
rate for  the  most  part  forcibly  on  the  will,  and  turn  the  courses 
of  men's  lives  from  virtue,  piety,  and  religion,  and  what  before 
they  judged  to  lead  to  happiness;  every  one  not  endeavouring, 
or  through  disuse  not  being  able,  by  the  contemplation  of  remote 
and  future  good,  to  raise  in  himself  desires  of  them  strong  enough 
to  counterbalance  the  uneasiness  he  feels  in  those  bodily  torments, 
and  to  keep  his  will  steady  in  the  choice  of  those  actions  which 
lead  to  future  happiness.  A  neighbour  country  has  been  of  late 
a  tragical  theatre,  from  which  we  might  fetch  instances,  if  there 
needed  any,  and  the  world  did  not  in  all  countries  and  ages 
furnish  examples  enough  to  confirm  that  received  observation. 
•'  necessitas  cogit  ad  turpia  ;"  and  therefore  there  is  great  reason 
for  us  to  pray,  "lead  us  not  into  temptation." 

FROM  WRONG  DESIRES  ARISING  FROM  WRONG  JUDGMENT- 

2.  Other  uneasinesses  arise  from  our  desires  of  absent  good  : 
which  desires  always  bear  proportion  to,  and  depend  on  the 
judgment  we  make,  and  the  relish  we  have  of  any  absent  good  : 
in  both  which  we  are  apt  to  be  variously  misled,  and  that  by 
our  own  fault. 

§  58.    OUR  JUDGMENT  OF   PRESENT  GOOD  OR  EVIL  ALWAVS  RIGHT. 

In  the  first  place  I  shall  consider  the  wrong  judgments  men 
make  of  future  good  and  evil,  whereby  their  desires  are  misled. 
For,  as  to  present  happiness  and  misery,  when  that  alone  come? 
into  consideration,  and  the  consequences  are  quite  removed,  a 
man  never  chooses  amiss  ;  he  knows  what  best  pleases  him,  and 
that  he  actually  prefers.     Things  in  their  present  enjoyment  an 


GH.  XXI. J  ok  POWER.  Ml 

what  they  seetn  ;  tiie  apparent  and  real  good  are,  in  this  case, 
always  the  same  :  for  the  pain  or  pleasure  being  just  so  great, 
and  no  greater  that  it  is  felt,  the  present  good  or  evil  is  really  so 
much  as  it  appears.  And  therefore,  were  every  action  of  ours 
concluded  within  itself,  and  drew  no  consequences  after  it,  we 
should  undoubtedly  never  err  in  our  choice  of  good  ;  we  should 
always  infallibly  prefer  the  best.  Were  the  pains  of  honest  in- 
dustry and  of  starving  with  hunger  and  cold,  set  togelher  before 
us,  nobody  would  be  in  doubt  which  to  choose  :  were  the  satis- 
faction of  a  lust,  and  the  joys  of  heaven,  offered  at  once  to  any 
one's  present  possession,  he  would  not  balance  or  err  in  the 
determination  of  Ins  choice. 

§59, 

But  since  our  voluntary  actions  carry  not  all  the  happiness  and 
misery  that  depend  on  them  along  with  them  in  their  present 
performance,  but  are  the  precedent  causes  of  good  and  evil, 
which  they  draw  after  them,  and  bring  upon  us,  when  they  them- 
selves are  passed  and  cease  to  be ;  our  desires  look  beyond  our 
present  enjoyments,  and  carry  the  mind  out  to  absent  good, 
according  to  the  necessity  which  we  think  there  is  of  it  to  the 
making  or  increase  of  our  happiness.  It  is  our  opinion  of  such 
a  necessity  that  gives  it  its  attraction  :  without  that  we  are  not 
moved  by  absent  good.  For  in  this  narrow  scantling  of  capacity; 
which  we  are  accustomed  to  and  sensible  of  here,  wherein  we 
enjoy  but  one  pleasure  at  once,  which,  when  all  uneasiness  is 
away,  is,  whilst  it  lasts,  sufficient  to  make  us  think  ourselves 
happy,  it  is  not  all  remote,  and  even  apparent  good,  that  affects 
us.  Because  the  indolency  and  enjoyment  we  have,  sufficing  for 
our  present  happiness,  we  desire  not  to  venture  the  change  ; 
since  we  judge  that  we  are  happy  already,  being  content,  and  that 
is  enough.  For  who  is  content,  is  happy.-  But  as  soon  as  any 
new  uneasiness  comes  in,  this  happiness  is  disturbed,  and  we  are- 
set  afresh  on  work  in  the  pursuit  of  happiness. 

§  60.  FROM  A  WRONG  JUDGMENT  OF  WHAT  MAKES  A  NECESSARY  PART  OF 
THEIR  HAPPINESS. 

Their  aptness  therefore  to  conclude  that  they  can  be  happy 
without  it,  is  one  great  occasion  that  men  often  are  not  raised  to 
the  desire  of  the  greatest  absent  good.  For  whilst  such  thoughts 
possess  them,  the  joys  of  a  future  state  move  them  not ;  they  have 
little  concern  or  uneasiness  about  them  ;  and  the  will,  free  from 
(he  determination  of  such  desires,  is  left  to  the  pursuit  of  nearer 
satisfactions,  and  to  the  removal  of  those  uneasinesses  which 
it  then  feels,  in  its  want  of  and  longings  after  them.  Change  but" 
a  man's  view  of  these  things ;  let  him  see  that  virtue  and  reli- 
gion arc  necessary  to  his  happiness,  let  him  look  into  the  future 
state  of  bliss  or  misery,  and  see  there  God,  the  righteous  judge, 
roadv  to  "  render  to  rverv  man  according  to  his  deeds  ;  to  their, 


248  OF  POWEfe.  [BOOK  II. 

who  by  patient  continuance  in  well-doing  seek  for  glory,  and 
honour,  and  immortality,  eternal  life  ;  but  unto  every  soul  that 
doth  evil,  indignation,  and  wrath,  tribulation  and  anguish  :"  to 
him,  1  say,  who  hath  a  prospect  of  the  different  state  of  per- 
fect happiness  or  misery  that  attends  all  men  after  this  life, 
depending  on  their  behaviour  here,  the  measures  of  good  and 
evil,  that  govern  his  choice,  arc  mightily  changed.  For  since 
nothing  of  pleasure  and  pain  in  this  life  can  bear  any  proportion 
to  the  endless  happiness,  or  exquisite  misery,  of  an  immortal  soul 
hereafter;  actions  in  his  power  will  have  their  preference,  not 
.according  to  the  transient  pleasure  or  pain  that  accompanies  or 
follows  them  here,  but  as  they  serve  to  secure  that  perfect  dura- 
ble happiness  hereafter. 

§  61.    A  MORE  PARTICULAR  ACCOUNT  OF  WRONG  JUDGMENTS. 

But  to  account  more  particularly  for  the  misery  that  men  ofteu 
bring  on  themselves,  notwithstanding  that  they  do  all  in  earnest 
pursue  happiness,  we  must  consider  how  things  come  to  be  repre- 
sented to  our  desires,  under  deceitful  appearances  :  and  that  is 
by  the  judgment  pronouncing  wrongly  concerning  them.  To  see 
how  far  this  reaches,  and  what  are  the  causes  of  wrong  judgment, 
we  must  remember  that  things  are  judged  good  or  bad  in  a  double, 
sense. 

First,  That  which  is  properly  good  or  bad,  is  nothing  but  barely 
pleasure  or  pain. 

Secondly,  But  because  not  only  present  pleasure  and  pain,  but 
that  also  which  is  apt  by  its  efficacy  or  consequences  to  bring  it 
upon  us  at  a  distance,  is  a  proper  object  of  our  desires,  and  apt 
to  move  a  creature  that  has  foresight :  therefore  things  also  that 
draw  after  them  pleasure  and  pain  are  considered  as  good  and 
evil. 

§62. 

The  wrong  judgment  that  misleads  us,  and  makes  the  will 
often  fasten  on  the  worse  side,  lies  in  misreporting  upon  the 
various  comparisons  of  these.  The  wrong  judgment  I  am  hen 
speaking  of,  is  not  what  one  man  may  think  of  the  determination 
of  another,  but  what  every  man  himself  must  confess  to  be  wrong. 
For  since  I  lay  it  for  a  certain  ground  that  every  intelligent  being 
really  seeks  happiness,  which  consists  in  the  enjoyment  of  plea- 
sure, without  any  considerable  mixture  of  uneasiness  ;  it  is 
impossible  any  one  should  willingly  put  into  his  own  draught  any 
bitter  ingredient,  or  leave  out  any  thing  in  his  power  that  would 
tend  to  his  satisfaction,  and  the  completing  of  his  happiness,  but 
only  by  wrong  judgment.  I  shall  not  here  speak  of  that  mistake, 
which  is  the  consequence  of  invincible  error,  which  scarce 
deserves  the  name  of  wrong  judgment ;  but  of  that  wrong  judg- 
ment which  everv  man  himself  must  confess  to  bo  so. 


03     I'oWKK.  -'  [9 

!,    [jj   COMPARING  PRESENT  AND  FUTURE.      ■ 

If,  therefore,  as  to  present  pleasure  and  pain,  the  mind,  as  has 
been  said,  never  mistakes  that  which  is  really  good  or  evil ;  thai 
which  is  the  greater  pleasure,  or  the  greater  pain,  is  really  just 
as  it  appears.  But  though  present  pleasure  and  pain  show  then 
difference  and  degrees  so  plainly  as  not  to  leave  room  for  mistake, 
vet  when  we  compare  present  pleasure  or  pain  with  future 
(which  is  usually  the  case  in  the  most  important  determinations 
of  the  will,)  we  often  make  wrong  judgment?  of  them,  taking 
our  measures  of  them  in  different  positions  of  distance.  Objects 
near  our  view  are  apt  to  be  thought  greater  than  those  of  a  larger 
size  that  are  more  remote  :  and  so  it  is  with  pleasures  and  pains, 
the  present  is  apt  to  carry  it,  and  those  at  a  distance  have  the. 
disadvantage  in  the  comparison.  Thus  most  men,  like  spend- 
thrift heirs,  are  apt  to  judge  a  little  in  hand  better  than  a  great 
deal  to  eorne  ;  and  so,  for  small  matters  in  possession,  part  with 
greater  ones  in  reversion.  But  that  this  is  a  wrong  judgment 
every  one  must  allow;  let  his  pleasure  consist  in  whatever  it  will : 
since  that  which  is  future  will  certainly  come  to  be  present ;  and 
then,  having  the  same  advantage  of  nearness,  will  show  itself  in 
its  full  dimensions,  and  discover  his  wilful  mistake,  who  judged 
of  it  by  unequal  measures.  Were  the  pleasure  of  drinking 
accompanied,  the  very  moment  a  man  takes  off  his  glass,  with 
that  sick  stomach  and  aching  head,  which,  in  some  men,  are  sure 
to  follow  not  many  hours  after  ;  I  think  nobody,  whatever  plea- 
sure he  had  in  his  cups,  would,  on  these  conditions,  ever  let  wine 
touch  his  lips  ;  which  yet  he  daily  swallows,  and  the  evil  side 
comes  to  be  chosen  only  by  the  fallacy  of  a  little  difference  in 
in  time.  But  if  pleasure  or  pain  can  be  so  lessened  only  by  a 
few  hours'  removal,  how  much  more  will  it  be  so  by  a  farther 
distance,  to  a  man  that  will  not  by  a  right  judgment  do  what  time 
will,  i.  c.  bring  it  home  upon  himself,  and  consider  it  as  present, 
and  there  take  its  true  dimensions  !  This  is  the  way  we  usually 
impose  on  ourselves,  in  respect  of  bare  pleasure  and  pain,  or  the 
true  degrees  of  happiness  or  misery  :  the  future  loses  its  just 
proportion,  and  what  is  present  obtains  the  preference  as  the 
greater.  1  mention  not  here  the  wrong  judgment,  whereby  the 
absent  are  not  only  lessened,  but  reduced  to  perfect  nothing ; 
when  men  enjoy  what  they  can  in  present,  and  make  sure  of 
that,  concluding  amiss  that  no  evil  will  thence  follow.  For 
'hat  lies  not  in  comparing  the  greatness  of  future  good  and 
evil,  which  is  that  we  are  here  speaking  of,  but  in  another  sort 
of  wrong  judgment,  which  is  concerning  good  or  evil,  as  it  is  con- 
rdered  to  he  the  cause  and  procurement  of  pleasure  or  pain, 
fhat  will  follow  from  it. 


Vol,  I, 


2o0  '  OF   FOU'EE,  [cook  ir. 

§  64.  causes  of  t fits. 

The  cause  of  our  judging  amiss,  when  we  compare  our  present 
pleasure  or  pain  with  future,  seems  to  me  to  be  the  weak  and 
narrow  constitution  of  our  minds.  We  cannot  well  enjoy  two 
pleasures  at  once,  much  less  any  pleasure  almost  whilst  pain  pos- 
sesses us.  The  present  pleasure,  if  it  be  not  very  languid,  and 
almost  none  at  all,  fills  our  narrow  souls,  and  so  takes  up  the 
whole  mind  that  it  scarce  leaves  any  thought  of  things  absent ;  or 
if,  among  our  pleasures,  there  are  some  which  are  not  strong 
enough  to  exclude  the  consideration  of  things  at  a  distance  ;  yet 
we  have  so  great  an  abhorrence  of  pain,  that  a  little  of  it  extin- 
guishes all  our  pleasures  ;  a  little  bitter  mingled  in  our  cup  leaves 
no  relish  of  the  sweet.  Hence  it  comes  that  at  any  rate  we  desire 
to  be  rid  of  the  present  evil,  which  we  are  apt  to  think  nothing 
absent  can  equal ;  because,  under  the  present  pain  we  find  notour- 
selves  capable  of  any  the  least  degree  of  happiness.  Men's  daily 
complaintsare  a  loud  proof  of  this:  the  pain  that  any  one  actually 
feels  is  still  of  all  other  the  worst ;  and  it  is  with  anguish  they 
cry  out,  "Any  rather  than  this  ;  nothing  can  be  so  intolerable  as 
what  I  now  suffer."  And  therefore  our  whole  endeavours  and 
thoughts  are  intent  to  get  rid  of  the  present  evil,  before  all  things, 
as  the  first  necessary  condition  to  our  happiness,  let  what  will 
follow.  Nothing,  as  we  passionately  think,  can  exceed,  or 
almost  equal,  the  uneasiness  that  sits  so  heavy  upon  us.  And 
because  the  abstinence  from  a  present  pleasure  that  offers  itself 
is  a  pain,  nay  oftentimes  a  very  great  one,  the  desire  being  infla- 
med by  a  near  and  tempting  object,  it  is  no  wonder  that  that 
operates  after  the  same  manner  pain  does,  and  lessens  in  our 
thoughts  wha.  is  iuture;  and  so  forces,  as  it  were,  blindfold  into, 
its  embraces. 

•   Co. 

Add  to  this,  that  absent  good,  or,  which  is  the' same  thing,  future 
pleasure,  especially  if  of  a  sort  we  are  unacquainted  with,  seldom 
is  able  to  counterbalance  airy  uneasiness,  either  of  pain  or  desire , 
which  is  present.  For  its  greatness  being  no  more  than  what. 
shall  be  really  tasted  when  enjoyed,  men  are  apt  enough  to  lesseu 
that,  to  make  it  give  place  to  any  present  desire ;  and  conclude 
with  themselves,  that  when  it  comes  to  trial,  it  may  possibly  not 
answer  the  report  or  opinion  that  generally  passes  of  it ;  they 
having  often  found,  that  not  only  what  others  have  magnified, 
but  even  what  they  themselves  have  enjoyed  with  great  pleasure 
and  delight  at  one  time,  has  proved  insipid  or  nauseous  at  another; 
and  therefore  they  see  nothing  in  it  for  which  they  should  forego 
a  present  enjoyment.  But  that  this  is  a  false  way  of  judging, 
when  applied  to  the  happiness  of  another  life,  they  must  confess  ; 
unless  they  will  say,  "  Cod  cannot  make  those  happy  he  designs 
to  be  so.'1  For  that  being  intended  for  a  state  of  happiness,  it 
roust  certainly  be  agreeable  i<<  every  one's  wish  pnd  desire  :  could 


CH.  XXI.]  OF    POWER.  25i 

wo  suppose  their  relishes  as  different  there,  as  they  are  here,  yet 
the  manna  in  heaven  -will  suit  every  one's  palate.  Thus  much 
of  the  wrong  judgment  we  make  of  present  and  future  pleasure 
and  plain,  when  they  are  compared  together,  and  so  the  absent 
considered  as  future. 

§  66.  in  considering  consequences  of  actions. 
II.  As  to  things  good  or  bad  in  their  consequences,  and  by  the 
aptness  is  in  them  to  procure  us  good  or  evil  in  the  future,  we 
judge  amiss  several  ways. 

1.  When  we  judge  that  so  much  evil  does  not  really  depend 
on  them,  as  in  truth  there  does. 

2.  When  we  judge,  that  though  the  consequence  be  of  that  mo- 
ment, yet  it  is  not  of  that  certainty  but  that  it  may  otherwise  fall 
out,  or  else  by  some  means  be  avoided,  as  by  industry,  address, 
change,  repentance,  &c.  That  these  are.  wrong  ways  of  judging, 
were  easy  to  show  in  every  particular,  if  1  would  examine  them 
at  large  singly  :  but  I  shall  only  mention  this  in  general,  viz.  that 
it  is  a  very  wrong  and  irrational  way  of  proceeding,  to  venture 
a  greater  good  for  a  less,  upon  uncertain  guesses,  and  before  a 
due  examination  be  made  proportionable  to  the  wcightiness  of 
the  matter,  and  the  concernment  it  is  to  us  not  to  mistake.  This, 
!  think,  every  pne  must  confess,  especially  if  he  considers  the 
usual  causes  of  this  wrong  judgment,  whereof  these  following 
are  some  : 

§  C7.    CAUSES  OF  THIS. 

I.  Ignorance  :  he  that  judges  without  informing  himself  to  the 
utmost  that  he  is  capable,  cannot  acquit  himself  of  judging 
amiss; 

II.  Inadvertency  :  when  a  man  overlooks  even  that  which  he 
does  know.  This  is  an  affected  and  present  ignorance,  which 
misleads  our  judgments  as  much  as  the  other.  Judging  is,  as  it 
were,  balancing  an  account,  and  determining  on  which  side  the 
odds  lie.  If  therefore  either  side  be  huddled  up  in  haste,  and 
several  of  the  sums,  that  should  have  gone  into  the  reckoning, 
be  overlooked  and  left  out,  this  precipitancy  causes  as  wrong  a 
judgment  as  if  it  were  a  perfect  ignorance.  That  which  most 
commonly  causes  this  is  the  prevalency  of  some  present  pleasure 
or  pain,  heightened  by  our  feeble  passionate  nature,  most  strongly 
wrought  on  by  what  is  present.  To  check  this  precipitancy,  our 
understanding  and  reason  was  given  us,  if  we  will  make  a  right 
use  of  it,  to  search  and  see,  and  then  judge  thereupon.  Without 
liberty,  the  understanding  would  be  to  no  purpose  :  and  without 
understanding,  liberty  (if  it  could  be)  would  signify  nothing.  If 
a  man  sees  what  would  do  him  good  or  harm,  what  would  make 
him  happy  or  miserable,  without  being  able  to  move  himself  one 
step  towards  or  from  it,  what  is  he  the  better  for  seeing  ?  And 
)h>  that  is  a*  liberty  to  ramble  in  perfect  darkness,  what  is  his 


i'o~  OF   POWER.  [BOOK  II. 

liberty  better  than  if  lie  were  driven  up  and  down  as  a  bubble 
by  the  force  of  the  wind  ?  The  being  acted  by  a  blind  impulse 
from  without,  or  from  within,  is  little  odds.  The  first  therefore, 
and  great  use  of  liberty,  is  to  hinder  blind  precipitancy ;  the 
principal  exercise  of  freedom  is  to  stand  still,  open  the  eyes,  look 
about,  and  take  a  view  of  the  consequence  of  what  we  are  going 
to  do,  as  much  as  the  weight  of  the  matter  requires.  How  much 
sloth  and  negligence,  heat  and  passion,  the  prevalency  of  fashion, 
or  acquired  indispositions,  do  severally  contribute  on  occasion  to 
these  wrong  judgments,  I  shall  not  here  farther  inquire.  I  shall 
only  add  one  other  false  judgment,  which  1  think  necessary  to 
mention,  because,  perhaps  it  is  little  taken  notice  of,  though  of 
great  influence. 

§  68.    WRONG  JUDGMENT  OF  WHAT  IS  NECESSARY  TO  OUR  HAPPINESS. 

All  men  desire  happiness,  that  is  past  doubt ;  but,  as  has  been 
already  observed,  when  they  are  rid  of  pain,  they  are  apt  to  take 
up  with  any  pleasure  at  hand,  or  that  custom  has  endeared  to 
them,  to  rest  satisfied  in  that ;  and  so  being  happy,  tiil  some  new 
desire,  by  making  them  uneasy,  disturbs  that  happiness,  and 
shows  them  that  they  are  not  so,  they  look  no  farther ;  nor  is  the 
will  determined  to  any  action,  in  pursuit  of  any  other  known  or 
apparent  good.  For  since  we  find,  that  we  cannot  enjoy  all  sorts 
of  good,  but  one  excludes  another,  we  do  not  fix  our  desires  on 
every  apparent  greater  good,  unless  it  be  judged  to  be  necessary 
to  our  happiness  ;  if  we  think  we  can  be  happy  without  it,  it 
moves  us  not.  This  is  another  occasion  to  men  of  judging  wrong, 
when  they  take  not  that  to  be  necessary  to  their  happiness  which 
really  is  so.  This  mistake  misleads  us  both  in  the  choice  of  the 
good  we  aim  at,  and  very  often  in  the  means  to  it,  when  it  is  a 
remote  good  :  but  which  way  ever  it  be,  either  by  placing  it 
where  really  it  is  not,  or  by  neglecting  the  means  as  not  necessary 
to  it;  when  a  man  misses  his  great  end,  happiness,  he  will  acknow- 
ledge he  judged  not  right.  .  That  which  contributes  to  this  mis- 
take, is  the  real  or  supposed  unpleasantness  of  the  actions  which 
are  the  way  to  this  end ;  it  seeming  so  preposterous  a  thing  to 
men  to  make  themselves  unhappy  in  order  to  happiness',  thai 
they  do  not  easily  bring  themselves  to  it. 

<$  69.    WE    CAN     CHANGE     THE    AGRJ5E'ABLENES3    OR    JHSAGF.EEABLENESS 

IN    THINGS. 

The  last  inquiry  therefore  concerning  this  matter  is,  "  whether 
it  be  in  a  man's  power  to  change  the  pleasantness  and  unpleasant- 
ness that  accompanies  any  sort  of  action  ?"  And  as  to  that,  it  is 
plain  in  many  cases  he  can.  Men  may  and  should  correct  their 
palates,  and  give  relish  to  what  either  has,  or  they  suppose  has 
none.  The  relish  of  the  mind  is  as  various  as  that  of  the  body, 
and  like  that  too  may  be  altered  ;  and  it  is  a  mistake  to  think. 
thai  men  cannot  change  the  displeasingness  or  indifference  thai 


CH.  XXI.]  OF  POWER. 

is  in  actions  into  pleasure  and  desire,  if  they  will  do  but  what  is 
in  their  power.  A  due  consideration  will  do  in  some  cases ;  and 
practice,  application,  and  custom  in  most.  Bread  or  tobacco  may 
be  neglected,  where  they  are  shown  to  be  useful  to  health,  because 
of  an indill'erency  or  disrelish  to  them  :  reason  and  consideration 
at  first  recommend,  and  begin  their  trial,  and  use  finds  or  custom 
makes  them  pleasant.  That  this  is  so  in  virtue  too  is  very  cer- 
tain. Actions  ape  pleasing  or  displeasing,  either  in  themselves, 
or  considered  as  a  means  to  a  greater  and  more  desirable  end. 
The  eating  of  a  well-seasoned  dish,  suited  to  a  man's  palate, 
may  move  the  mind  by  the  delight  itself  that  accompanies  the 
rating,  without  reference  to  any  other  end  :  to  which  the  consi- 
deration of  the  pleasure  there  is  in  health  and  strength,  (to  which 
that  meat  is  subservient)  may  add  a  new  gusto,  able  to  make  u^ 
swallow  an  ill-relished  potion.  In  the  latter  of  these,  any  action 
is  rendered  more  or  less  pleasing  only  by  the  contemplation  of 
the  end,  and  the  being  more  or  less  persuaded  of  its  tendency  to 
it,  or  necessary  connexion  with  it :  but  the  pleasure  of  the  action 
itself  is  best  acquired  or  increased  by  use  and  practice.  Trials 
often  reconcile  us  to  that  which  at  a  distance  we  looked  on  with 
aversion,  and  by  repetitions  wear  us  into  a  liking  of  what  possibly, 
in  the  first  essay,  displeased  us.  Habits  have  powerful  charms, 
and  put  so  strong  attractions  of  easiness  and  pleasure  into  what  we 
accustom  ourselves  to,  that  we  cannot  forbear  to  do,  or  at  least 
he  easy  in  the  omission  of  actions,  which  habitual  practice  has 
suited,  and  thereby  recommends  to  us.  Though  this  be  very  \  isr- 
ble,  and  <■'••  ery  one's  experience  shows  him  he  can  do  so  ;  yet  it 
is  a  p;!it  in  the  conduct  of  men  towards  their  happiness,  neglected 
to  a  degree,  thai  it  will  be  possibly  entertained  as  a  paradox,  if  it 
he  said,  that  men  can  make  things  or  actions  more  or  less  pleasing 
'to  themselves;  and  thereby  remedy  that,  to  which  one  may  justly 
impute  a  great  deal  of  their  wandering.  Fashion  and  the  com- 
mon opinion  having  settled  wrong  notions,  and  education  and 
custom  ill  habits,  the  just  values  of  things  are  misplaced,  and  the 
palates  of  men  corrupted.  Pains  should  be  taken  to  rectify 
these ;  and  contrary  habits  change  our  pleasures,  and  give  a 
relish  to  that  which  is  necessary  or  conducive  to  our  happiness. 
This  every  one  mu>t  confess  he  can  do  ;  and  when  happiness-is 
lost,  and  misery  overtakes  him,  he  will  confess  he  diet  amiss  in 
_  ctkkg  it ;  and  condemn  himself  for  it :  and  I  ask  every  one. 
ther  he  has  not  often  done  so  I 

§  70.    PREFERENCE  OF  VICE  TO  VIRTUE  A  MANIFEST  WRm  .<      JCD 

[shall  not  now  enlarge  any  farther  on  the  wrong  judgments 
and  neglect  of  what  is  in  their  power,  whereby  men  mislead 
themselves.  This  would  make  a  volume,  and  is  not  my  business. 
But  whatever  fefee  notions,  or  shameful  neglect  of  what  i^  in 
(heir  power,  may  put  men  out  of  their  way  to  happiness,  and 
distract  them,  as  we  see,  into  so  different  courses  of  life,  thi? 


Q54  OP   POWER.  [book  II. 

yet  is  certain,  that  morality,  established  upon  its  true  founda- 
tions, cannot  but  determine  the  choice  in  any  one  that  will  but 
consider  :  and  he  that  will  not  be  so  far  a  rational  creature  as 
to  reflect  seriously  upon  infinite  happiness  and  misery,  must 
needs  condemn  himself  as  not  making  thai  use  of  his  understand- 
ing he  should.  The  rewards  and  punishments  of  another  life, 
which  the  Almighty  has  established  as  the  enforcements  of  his 
law,  are  of  weight  enough  to  determine  the  choice,  against  what- 
ever pleasure  or  pain  this  life  can  show,  when  the  eternal  state 
is  considered  but  in  its  bare  possibility,  which  nobody  can  make 
any  doubt  of.  He  that  will  allow  exquisite  and  endless  happi- 
ness to  be  but  the  possible  consequence  of  a  good  life  here,  and 
the  contrary  state  the  possible  reward  of  a  bad  one,  must  own 
himself  to  judge  very  much  amiss  if  he  does  not  conclude,  that 
a  virtuous  life,  with  the  certain  expectation  of  everlasting  bliss, 
which  may  come,  is  to  be  preferred  to  a  vicious  one,  with  the 
fear  of  that  dreadful  state  of  misery,  which  it  is  very  possible 
jnay  overtake  the  guilty  ;  or  at  best  the  terrible  uncertain  hope 
of  annihilation.  This  is  evidently  so,  though  the  virtuous  lift- 
here  had  nothing  but  pain,  and  the  vicious  continual  pleasure  : 
which  yet  is,  for  the  most  part,  quite  otherwise,  and  wicked  men 
have  not  much  the  odds  to  brag  of,  even  in  their  present  posses- 
sion ;  nay,  all  things  rightly  considered,  have,  I  think,  even  the 
worst  part  here.  But  when  infinite  happiness  is  put  into  one 
scale  against  infinite  misery  in  the  other,  if  the  worst  that  comes 
to  the  pious  man,  if  he  mistakes,  be  the  best  that  the  wicked 
can  attain  to,  if  he  be  in  the  right,  who  can  without  madness  run 
the  venture?  Who  in  his  wits  would  choose  to  come  within  a  pos- 
sibility of  infinite  misery,  which  if  he  miss,  there  is  yet  nothing 
to  be  got  by  that  hazard  ?  Whereas,  on  the  other  side,  the  sober 
man  ventures  nothing  against  infinite  happiness  to  be  got,  if  his 
expectation  comes  to  pass.  If  the  good  man  be  in  the  right,  he 
is  eternally  happy  ;  if  he  mistakes,  he  is  not  miserable  ;  he  feels 
nothing.  On  the  other  side,  if  the  wicked  be  in  the  right,  he  is 
not  happy  ;  if  he  mistakes,  he  is  infinitely  miserable.  Must  it 
not  be  a  most  manifest  wrong  judgment  that  does  not  presently 
see  to  which  side,  in  this  case,  the  preference  is  to  be  given  ?  I 
have  forborne  to  mention  any  thing  of  the  certainty  or  proba- 
bility of  a  future  state,  designing  here  to  show  the  wrong  judg- 
ment that  any  one  must  allow  he  makes  upon  his  own  principles, 
laid  how  he  pleases,  who  prefers  the  short  pleasures  of  a  vicious 
}ife  upon  any  consideration,  whilst  he  knows,  and  cannot  but  be 
certain,  that  a  future  life  is  at  least  possible. 

§71.    RECAPITULATION. 

To  conclude  this  inquiry  into  human  liberty,  which,  as  it  stood 
before,  I  myself  from  the  beginning  fearing,  and  a  very  judicious 
friend  of  mine,  since  the  publication,  suspecting  to  have  souk; 
mistake  in  it,  though  he  could  no!  particularly  show  it  me.  1  was 


(  H.  XXI.]  OP    low  it: 

put  upon  a  stricter  review  oi  this  chapter;  \\  herein  lighting  upon 
a  very  easy  and  scarce  observable  slip  I  had  made,  in  putting 
one  seemingly  indiflerei  t  word  for  another,  thafcdiscovery  op~en<  d 
10  me  this  present  view,  which  here,  in  this  second  edition,  i 
submit  to  the  learned  world, and  which  in  short  is  this  :  u  Liberty 
is  a  power  to  act  or  not  to  act,  acccording  as  the  mind  directs." 
A  power  to  direct  the  operative  faculties  to  motion  or  rest 
in  particular  instances,  is  that  which  we  call  the  will.  Thai 
which  in  the  train  of  our  voluntary  actions  determines  the  arill 
to  any  change  of  operation,  is  some  present  uneasiness  ;  which 
is,  or  at  least  is  always  accompanied  with,  that  of  desire.  Desire : 
is  always  moved  by  evil,  to  fly  it  5  because  a  total  freedom  from 
pain  always  makes  a  necessary  part  of  our  happiness  :  !>1 
every  good,  nay,  every  greater  good,  does  not  constantly  move 
desire,  because  it  may  not  make,  or  may  not  be  taken  to  make, 
any  necessary  part  of  our  happiness :  for  all  that  we  desire  is  only 
to  be  happy,  liut  though  this  general  desire  of  happiness  operates 
constantly  and  invariably,  yet  the  satisfaction  of  air,  particular 
desire  can  be  suspended  from  determining  the  will  to  any 
subservient  action  till  we  have  maturely  examined,  whether  the 
particular  apparent  good,  which  we  then  desire,  makes  a  part 
of  our  real  happiness,  or  be  consistent  or  inconsistent  with  it. 
The  result  of  our  judgment  upon  that  examination  is  what  ulti- 
mately determines  the  man,  who  could  not  be  free  if  his  will 
were  determined  by  any  thing  but  his  own  desire  guided  by  his 
own  judgment.  I  know  that  liberty  by  some  is  placed  in  an 
indillerency  of  the  man,  antecedent  to  the  determination  of  his 
will.  I  wish  they,  who  lay  so  much  stress  on  such  an  antecedent 
indifferency,  as  they  call  it,  had  told  us  plainly,  whether  this 
supposed  indiilercncy  he  antecedent  to  the  thought  and  judg- 
ment of  the  understanding,  as  well  as  to  the  decree  of  the  will. 
For  it  is  pretty  hard  to  state  it  between  them  ;  i.  c.  immediately 
after  the  judgment  of  the  understanding,  and  before  the  determi- 
nation of  the  will,  because  the  determination  of  the  will  imn 
ately  follows  the  judgment  of  the  understanding:  and  to  place 
liberty  in  an  indiiierency,  antecedent  to  the  thought  and  judg- 
ment of  the  understanding,  seems  to  me  to  place  liberty  in  a  state 
of  darkness,  wherein  we  can  neither  see  nor  say  any  thing  of  it ; 
at  least  it  places  it  in  a  subject  incapable  of  it,  no  agent  being 
allowed  capable  of  liberty  but  in  consequence  of  thought  and 
judgment.  I  am  not  nice  about  phrases,  and  therefore  consent 
to  say,  with  those  that  love  to  speak  so,  that  liberty  is  placed  in 
indilierency ;  but  it  is  an  indifferency  which  remains  after  the 
judgment  of  the  understanding,  yea,  even  after  (lie  determination 
of  the  will  :  and  that  is  an  indifferency  not  of  the  man  (for  after 
lie  has  once  judged  which  is  best,  viz.  to  do  or  forbear,  he  is  no 
longer  indifferent,)  but  an  indifferency  of  the  operative  powers 
of  the  man,  which,  remaining  equally  able  to  operate  or  to  for- 
bear operating  after  aarbefore  the  decree  of  the  will,  are  in  a 


2i>\i  9F    POWERi  [i!jO,{  tl, 

slate  which,  ii  one  pleases,  may  be  called  indillerency ;  and  as 
far  as  this  indfflferency  reaches,  a  man  is  free,  and  no  farther  : 
v.  g.  I  have  the  ability  to  move  my  hand,  or  to  let  it  rest,  that 
operative  power  is  indifferent  to  move,  or  not  to  move  my  hand  : 
1  am  then  in  that  respect  perfectly  free.  My  will  determines 
that  operative  power  to  rest,  I  am  yet  free,  because  the  indiffer- 
ency  of  that  my  operative  power  to  act,  or  not  to  act,  still 
remains  ;  the  power  of  moving  my  hand  is  not  at  all  impaired 
by  the  determination  of  my  will,  which  at  present  orders  rest ; 
the  indifferency  of  that  power  to  act,  or  not  to  act,  is  just  as  it 
w-as  before,  as  will  appear,  if  the  will  puts  it  to  the  trial,  by 
ordering  the  contrary.  But  if  during  the  rest  of  my  hand  it  be 
seized  by  a  sudden  palsy,  the  indifferency  of  that  operative  power 
is  gone,  and  with  it  my  liberty  ;  1  have  no  longer  freedom  in  thai 
respect,  but  am  under  a  necessity  of  letting  my  hand  rest. 
On  the  other  side,  if  my  hand  be  put  into  motion  by  a  convul- 
sion, the  indifferency  of  that  operative  faculty  is  taken  away  by 
that  motion,  and  my  liberty  in  that  case  is  lost :  for  I  am  under  a 
necessity  of  having  my  hand  move.  I  have  added  this  to  show 
in  what  sort  of  indifferency  liberty  seems  to  me  to  consist,  and 
not  in  any  other,  real  or  imaginary. 

§72. 

True  notions  concerning  the  nature  and  extent  of  liberty  arc 
of  so  great  importance,  that  I  hope  I  shall  be  pardoned  this 
digression,  which  my  attempt  to  explain  it  has  led  me  into.  The 
idea  of  will,  volition,  liberty,  and  necessity,  in  this  chapter  of 
power,  came  naturally  in  my  way.  In  a  former  edition  of  this 
treatise  1  gave  an  account  of  my  thoughts  concerning  them, 
according  to  the  light  I  then  had  :  and  now,  as  a  lover  of  truth, 
and  not  a  worshipper  of  my  own  doctrines,  I  OAvn  some  change  of 
my  opinion,  which  1  think  I  have  discovered  ground  for.  In  what 
1  first  writ,  I  writh  an  unbiassed  indifferency  followed  truth, 
whither  I  thought  she  led  me.  But  neither  being  so  vain  as  to 
fancy  infallibility,  nor  so  disingenuous  as  to  dissemble  my  mis- 
takes for  fear  of  blemishing  my  reputation,  I  have,  with  the 
same  sincere  design  for  truth  only,  not  been  ashamed  to  publish 
what  a  severer  inquiry  has  suggested.  It  is  not  impossible  but 
that  some  may  think  my  former  notions  right,  and  some  (as  I  have 
already  found)  these  latter,  and  some  neither.  1  shall  not  at  all 
wronder  at  this  variety  in  men's  opinions  ;  impartial  deductions  of 
reason  in  controverted  points  being  so  rare,  and  exact  ones  in 
abstract  notions  not  so  very  easy,  especially  if  of  any  length. 
And  therefore  I  should  think  myself  not  a  little  beholden  to  any 
one,  who  would  upon  these,  or  any  other  grounds,  fairly  clear 
this  subject  of  liberty  from  any  difficulties  that  may  yet  remain. 

Before  I  close  this  chapter,  it  may  perhaps  be  to  our  purpose, 
and  help  to  give  us  clearer  conceptions  about  power,  if  we  make 
our  thoughts  take  a  little  more  exact  survey  of  action.     I  ha1 1 


ch.  xxi.. I  ofpov^KKj  i.y, 

said  above,^that  we  have  ideas  hut  of  two  sorts  of  action,  viz. 
motion  and.    thinking.      These,    in    truth,    though    called  and 
counted  actions,  yet,  if  nearly  considered,  will  not  be  found  to 
be  always  perfectly  so.     For,  if  I  mistake  not,  there  are  in- 
stances of  both  kinds,  which,  upon  due  consideration,  will  be 
found  rather  passions  than  actions,  and  consequently  so  far  the 
effects  barely  of  passive  powers  in  those  subjects,  which  yet  on 
their  accounts  are  thought  agents.     For  in  these  instances,  the 
substance  that  has  motion  or  thought  receives  the  impression, 
where  it  is  put  into  that  action  purely  from  without,  and  so  acts 
merely  by  the  capacity  it  has  to  receive  such  an  impression  from 
some  external  agent :  and  such  a  power  is  not  properly  an  active 
power,  but  a  mere  passive  capacity  in  the  subject.     Sometimes 
the  substance  or  agent  puts  itself  into  action  by  its  own  power, 
and  this  is  properly  active  power.     Whatsoever  modification  a 
substance  has,  whereby  it  produces  any  effect,  that  is  called 
action :  v.  g.  a  solid  substance  by  motion  operates  on  or  alters 
the  sensible  ideas  of  another  substance,  and  therefore  this  modi- 
fication of  motion  we  call  action.     But  yet  this  motion  in  that 
solid  substance  is,  when  rightly  considered,  but  a  passion,  if  it 
received  it  only  from  some  external  agent.     So  that  the  active 
power  of  motion  is  in  no  substance  which  cannot  begin  motion  in 
itself,  or  in  another  substance,  when  at  rest.     So  likewise  in 
thinking,  a  power  to  receive  ideas  or  thoughts,  from  the  opera- 
tion of  any  external  substance,  is  called  a  power  of  thinking  : 
but  this  is  but  a  passive  power,  or  capacity.     But  to  be  able  to 
hring  into  view  ideas  out  of  sight  at  one's  own  choice,  and  to 
compare  which  of  them  one  thinks  fit,  this  is  an  active  power. 
This  reflection  may  be  of  some  use  to  preserve  us  from  mistakes 
about  powers   and   actions,  which  grammar  and    the  common 
frame  of  languages  may  be  apt  to  lead  us  into ;  since  what  is 
signified  by  verbs  that  grammarians  call  active,  does  not  always 
signify  action :  v.  g.  this  proposition,  1  see  the  moon,  or  a  star. 
or  I  feel  the  heat  of  the  sun,  though  expressed  by  a  verb  active, 
does  not  signify  any  action  in  me,  whereby  I  operate  on  those 
substances;  but  the  reception  of  the  ideas  of  light,  roundness, 
and  heat,  wherein  I  am  not  active,    but  barely  passive,   and 
cannot  in  that  position  of  my  eyes  or  body  avoid  receiving  them. 
But  when  I  turn  my  eyes  another  way,  or  remove  my  body  out 
of  the  sunbeams,  I  am  properly  active,    because  of  my  own 
choice,  by  a  power  within  myself,  I  put  myself  into  that  motion. 
Such  an  action  is  the  product  of  active  power. 

§73. 

And  thus  I  have,  in  a  short  draught,  given  a  view  of  our 
original  ideas,  from  whence  all  the  rest  are  derived,  and  of  which 
they  are  made  up;  which  if  I  would  consider  as  a  philosopher, 
and  examine  on  what  causes  they  depend,  and  of  what  they  are 
made,  1  believe  thr-v  all  might  be   reduced  fo  these  very  fev 

Vor..  I. 


258  OF  POWER,  [book  II. 

primary  and  original  ones,  viz.  extension,  solidity,  mobility,  or 
the  power  of  being  moved,  which  by  our  senses  we  receive  from 
body;  perceptivity,  or  the  power  of  perception  or  thinking  :  mo- 
tivity,  or  the  power  of  moving  ;  which  by  reflection  we  receive 
from  our  minds.  I  crave  leave  to  make  use  of  these  two  new 
words,  to  avoid  the  danger  of  being  mistaken  in  the  use  of  those 
which  are  equivocal.  To  which  if  we  add  existence,  duration, 
number, — which  belong  both  to  the  one  and  the  other, — we  have, 
perhaps,  all  the  original  ideas,  on  which  the  rest  depend.  For 
by  these,  I  imagine,  might  be  explained  the  nature  of  colours, 
sounds,  tastes,  smells,  and  all  other  ideas  we  have,  if  we  had  but 
faculties  acute  enough  to  perceive  the  severally  modified  exten- 
sions and  motions  of  these  minute  bodies,  which  produce  those 
several  sensations  in  us.  But  my  present  purpose  being  only  to 
inquire  into  the  knowledge  the  mind  has  of  things,  by  those  ideas 
and  appearances  which  God  has  fitted  it  to  receive  from  them, 
and  how  the  mind  comes  by  that  knowledge,  rather  than  into 
their  causes  or  manner  of  production ;  I  shall  not,  contrary  to  the 
design  of  this  essay,  set  myself  to  inquire  philosophically  into  the 
peculiar  constitution'  of  bodies,  and  the  configuration  of  parts, 
whereby  they  have  the  power  to  produce  in  us  the  ideas  of  their 
sensible  qualities  :  I  shall  not  enter  any  farther  into  that  disquisi- 
tion, it  sufficing  to  my  purpose  to  observe,  that  gold  or  saffron  has 
a  power  to  produce  in  us  the  idea  of -yellow,  and  snow  or  milk 
the  idea  of  white,  which  we  can  only  have  by  our  sight,  without 
examining  the  texture  of  the  parts  of  those  bodies,  or  the  particu- 
lar figures  or  motion  of  the  particles  which  rebound  from  them, 
to  cause  in  us  that  particular  sensation  :  though  when  we  go  be- 
yond the  bare  ideas  in  our  minds,  and  would  inquire  into  their 
causes,  we  cannot  conceive  any  thing  else  to  be  in  any  sensible 
object,  whereby  it  produces  different  ideas  in  us,  but  the  different 
bulk,  figure,  number,  texture,  and  motion  of  its  insensible  parts. 


259 
CHAPTER  XXII. 

OF  MIXED  MODES. 

§   1.    MIXED  MODES,    WHAT. 

Having  treated  of  simple  modes  in  the  foregoing  chapters, 
and  given  several  instances  of  some  of  the  most  considerable  of 
them  to  show  what  they  are,  and  ho  w  we  come  by  them,  we  are 
now  in  the  next  place  to  consider  those  we  call  mixed  modes  i 
such  are  the  complex  ideas  we  mark  by  the  names  obligation, 
drunkenness,  a  lie,  &c.  which  consisting  of  several  combinations 
of  simple  ideas  of  different  kinds,  I  have  called  mixed  modes,  to 
distinguish  them  from  the  more  simple  modes,  which  consist  only 
of  simple  ideas  of  the  same  kind.  These  mixed  modes  being 
also  such  combinations  of  simple  ideas  as  are  not  looked  upon  to 
be  characteristical  marks  of  any  real  beings  that  have  a  steady 
existence,  but  scattered  and  independent  ideas  put  together  by 
the  mind,  are  thereby  distinguished  from  the  complex  ideas  of 
substances. 

§  2.    MADE  BY  THE  MIND. 

That  the  mind,  in  respect  of  its  simple  ideas,  is  wholly  passive, 
and  receives  them  all  from  the  existence  and  operations  of  things, 
such  as  sensation  or  reflection  offers  them,  without  being  able  to 
make  any  one  idea,  experience  shows  us  :  but  if  we  attentively 
consider  these  ideas  I  call  mixed  modes,  we  are  now  speaking  of, 
we  shall  find  their  original  quite  different.  The  mind  often 
exercises  an  active  power  in  making  these  several  combinations  : 
for  it  being  once  furnished  with  simple  ideas,  it  can  put  them 
together  in  several  compositions,  and  so  make  variety  of  complex 
ideas,  without  examining  whether  they  exist  so  together  in  nature- 
And  hence  I  think  it  is  that  these  ideas  are  called  notions,  as  if 
they  had  their  original  and  constant  existence  more  in  the 
thoughts  of  men  than  in  the  reality  of  things  :  and  to  form  such 
ideas,  it  sufficed  that  the  mind  puts  the  parts  of  them  together, 
and  that  they  were  consistent  in  the  understanding,  without  con- 
sidering whether  they  had  any  real  being  :  though  I  do  not  deny, 
but  several  of  them  might  be  taken  from  observation,  and  the 
existence  of  several  simple  ideas  so  combined,  as  they  are  put 
together  in  the  understanding.  For  the  man  who  first  framed  the 
idea  of  hypocrisy  might  have  either  taken  it  at  first  from  the  obser- 
vation of  one,  who  made  show  of  good  qualities  which  he  had  not, 
or  else  have  framed  that  idea  in  his  mind,  without  having  any 
such  pattern  to  fashion  it  by  :  for  it  i9  evident,  that  in  the  begin- 
ning of  languages  and  societies  of  men,  several  of  those  com- 
plex ideas,  which  were  consequent  to  the  constitutions  established 
among  them,  must  needs  have  been  in  the  minds  of  men,  before 
they  existed  any  where  else :  and  that  manv  names  that  stood  for 


~t>0  OF  MIXED  MODES.  [BOOK  II. 

such  complex  ideas  were  in  use,  and  so  those  ideas  framed,  before 
the  combinations  they  stood  for  ever  existed. 

6  3.    SOMETIMES  GOT  BY  THE  EXPLICATION  OF  THEIR  NAMES. 

Indeed,  now  that  languages  are  made,  and  abound  with  words 
standing  for  such  combinations,  a  usual  way  of  getting  these  com- 
plex ideas  is  by  the  explication  of  those  terms  that  stand  for 
them  :  for  consisting  of  a  company  of  simple  ideas  combined, 
they  may  by  words,standing  for  those  simple  ideas,  be  represented 
to  the  mind  of  one  who  understands  those  words,  though  that 
complex  combination  of  simple  ideas  were  never  offered  to  his 
mind  by  the  real  existence  of  things.  Thus  a  man  may  come  to 
have  the  idea  of  sacrilege  or  murder,  by  enumerating  to  him  the 
simple  ideas  which  these  words  stand  for,  without  ever  seeing 
either  ©f  them  committed. 

§  4.    THE  NAME  TIES  THE  PA&TS  OF  MIXED  MODES  INTO  ONE  IDEA. 

Every  mixed  mode  consisting  of  many  distinct  simple  ideas,  it 
seems  reasonable  to  inquire,  "  whence  it  has  its  unity,  and  how 
such  a  precise  multitude  comes  to  make  but  one  idea,  since  that 
combination  does  not  always  exist  together  in  nature  ?"  To  which 
I  answer,  it  is  plain  it  has  its  unity  from  an  act  of  the  mind  com- 
bining those  several  simple  ideas  together,  and  considering  them 
as  one  complex  one,  consisting  of  those  parts ;  and  the  mark  of  this 
union,  or  that  whieh  is  looked  on  generally  to  complete  it,  is  one 
name  given  to  that  combination.  For  it  is  by  their  names  that 
men  commonly  regulate  their  account  of  their  distinct  species  of 
mixed  modes,  seldom  allowing  or  considering  any  number  of 
simple  ideas  to  make  one  complex  one,  but  such  collections  as 
there  be  names  for.  Thus,  though  the  killing  of  an  old  man  be  as 
lit  in  nature  to  be  united  into  one  complex  idea  as  the  killing  a 
man's  father :  yet  there  being  no  name  standing  precisely  for  the 
one,  as  there  is  the  name  of  parricide  to  mark  the  other,  it  is  not 
taken  for  a  particular  complex  idea,  nor  a  distinct  species  of 
actions  from  that  of  killing  a  young  man,  or  any  other  man. 

§  5.    THE   CAUSE  OF  MAKING   MIXED  MODES. 

if  we  should  inquire  a  little  farther,  to  see  what  it  is  that  occa- 
sions men  to  make  several  combinations  of  simple  ideas  into 
distinct,  and,  as  it  were,  settledmodes,  and  neglect  others  which. 
in  the  nature  of  things  themselves,  have  as  much  an  aptness  to 
be  combined  and  make  distinct  ideas,  we  shall  find  the  reason  of 
it  to  be  the  end  of  language  ;  which  being  to  mark  or  communi- 
cate men's  thoughts  to  one  another  with  all  the  despatch  that  may 
be,  they  usually  make  such  collections  of  ideas  into  complex 
modes,  and  affix  names  to  them,  as  they  have  frequent  use  of 
in  their  way  of  living  and  conversation,  leaving  others,  which 
they  have  but  seldom  an  occasion  to  mention,  loose  and  without 
names  to  tie  tllem  together  ;  they  rather  choosing  to  enumerate 


CII.  XXII.]  OF  MIXED  MODES.  261 

(when  they  have  need)  such  ideas  as  make  them  up,  hy  the  par- 
ticular names  that  stand  for  them,  than  to  trouble  their  memories 
by  multiplying  of  complex  ideas  with  names  to  them,  which  they 
seldom  or  never  have  any  occasion  to  make  use  of. 

6  6.  WHY  WORDS  IN  OUR  LANGUAGE  HAVE  NONE  ANSWERING  IN  ANOTHER. 

This  shows  us  how  it  comes  to  pass,  that  there  are  in  every 
language  many  particular  words  which  cannot  be  rendered  by  any 
one  single  word  of  another.  For  the  several  fashions,  customs, 
and  manners  of  one  nation,  making  several  combinations  of  ideas 
familiar  and  necessary  in  one,  which  another  people  have  had 
never  any  occasion  to  make,  or  perhaps  so  much  as  taken  notice 
of;  names  come  of  course  to  be  annexed  to  them,  to  avoid  long 
periphrases  in  things  of  daily  conversation,  and  so  they  become 
so  many  distinct  complex  ideas  in  their  minds.  Thus  ir^xx,«rfa>i 
among  the  Greeks,  and  proscriptio  among  the  Romans,  were 
words  which  other  languages  had  no  names  that  exactly  answered, 
because  they  stood  for  complex  ideas,  which  were  not  in  the 
minds  of  the  men  of  other  nations.  Where  there  was  no  such 
custom,  there  was  no  notion  of  any  such  actions  ;  no  use  of  such 
combinations  of  ideas  as  were  united,  and  as  it  were  tied  together 
by  those  terms  :  and  therefore  in  other  countries  there  were  no 
names  for  them. 

§  7.    AND  LANGUAGES  CHANGE. 

Hence  also  we  may  see  the  reason  why  languages  constantly 
change,  take  up  new  and  lay  by  old  terms  ;  because  change  of 
customs  and  opinions  bringing  with  it  new  combinations  of  ideas, 
which  it  is  necessary  frequently  to  think  on,  and  talk  about, 
new  names,  to  avoid  long  descriptions,  are  annexed  to  them,  and 
so  they  become  new  species  of  complex  modes.  What  a  number 
of  different  ideas  are  by  this  means  wrapt  up  in  one  short  sound, 
and  how  much  of  our  time  and  breath  is  thereby  saved,  any  one 
will  see,  who  will  but  take  the  pains  to  enumerate  all  the  ideas 
that  either  reprieve  or  appeal  stand  for  ;  and  instead  of  either  of 
those  names,  use  a  periphrasis,  to  make  any  one  understand  their 
meaning. 

§  8.    MIXED  MODES,  WHERE  THEY  EXIST. 

Though  1  shall  have  occasion  to  consider  this  more  at  large 
when  I  come  to  treat  of  words  and  their  use,  yet  I  could  not 
avoid  to  take  thus  much  notice  here  of  the  names  of  mixed 
modes  ;  which  being  fleeting  and  transient  combinations  of  simple 
ideas,  which  have  but  a  short  existence  any  where  but  in  the 
minds  of  men,  and  there  too  have  no  longer  any  existence  than 
whilst  they  are  thought  on,  have  not  so  much  any  where  the 
appearance  of  a  constant  and  lasting  existence  as  in  their  names: 
which  are  therefore,  in  this  sort  of  ideas,  very  apt  to  be  taken  for 
the  ideas  themselves.    For  if  we  should  inquire  where  the  ide;. 


262  OF  MIXED  MODEfc.  [BOOK  II, 

of  a  triumph  or  apotheosis  exists,  it  is  evident  they  could  neither 
of  them  exist  altogether  any  where  in  the  things  themselves, 
being  actions  that  required  time  to  their  performance,  and  so 
could  never  all  exist  together:  and  as  to  the  minds  of  men, 
where  the  ideas  of  these  actions  are  supposed  to  be  lodged, 
they  have  there  too  a  very  uncertain  existence ;  and  there- 
fore we  are  apt  to  annex  them  to  the  names  that  excite  them 
in  us. 

§  9.  HOW  WE  GET  THE  IDEAS  OF  MIXED  MODES. 

There  are  therefore  three  ways  whereby  we  get  the  complex 
ideas  of  mixed  modes.  1 .  By  experience  and  observation  of 
things  themselves.  Thus  by  seeing  two  men  wrestle  or  fence, 
we  get  the  idea  of  wrestling  or  fencing.  2.  By  invention,  or 
voluntarily  putting  together  of  several  simple  ideas  in  our  owri 
minds:  so  he  that  first  invented  printing  or  etching,  had  an 
idea  of  it  in  his  mind  before  it  ever  existed.  3.  Which  is  the 
most  usual  way,  by  explaining  the  names  of  actions  we  never 
saw,  or  notions  we  cannot  see ;  and  by  enumerating,  and  thereby 
as  it  were,  setting  before  our  imaginations  all  those  ideas  which 
go  to  the  making  them  up,  and  are  the  constituent  parts  of  them. 
For  having  by  sensation  and  reflection  stored  our  minds  with 
simple  ideas,  and  by  use  got  the  names  that  stand  for  them,  we 
can  by  those  means  represent  to  another  any  complex  idea  we 
would  have  him  conceive  ;  so  that  it  has  in  it  no  simple  ideas  but 
what  he  knows  and  has  with  us  the  same  name  for.  For  all  our 
complex  ideas  are  ultimately  resolvable  into  simple  ideas,  of  which 
they  are  compounded  and  originally  made  up,  though  perhaps 
their  immediate  ingredients,  as  I  may  so  say,  are  also  complex 
ideas.  Thus  the  mixed  mode,  which  the  word  lie  stands  for,  is 
made  of  these  simple  ideas :  1.  Articulate  sounds.  2.  Certain  ideas 
in  the  mind  of  the  speaker.  3.  Those  words  the  signs  of  those 
ideas.  4.  Those  signs  put  together  by  affirmation  or  negation, 
otherwise  than  the  ideas  they  stand  for  are  in  the  mind  of  the 
speaker.  I  think  I  need  not  go  any  farther  in  the  analysis  of 
that  complex  idea  we  call  a  lie :  what  1  have  said  is  enough  to 
show,  that  it  is  made  up  of  simple  ideas  ;  and  it  could  not  be  but 
an  offensive  tediousness  to  my  reader,  to  trouble  him  with  a 
more  minute  enumeration  of  every  particular  simple  idea  that 
goes  to  this  complex  one  ;  which,  from  what  has  been  said,  he 
cannot  but  be  able  to  make  out  to  himself.  The  same  may  be 
done  in  all  our  complex  ideas  whatsoever;  which,  however  com- 
pounded and  decompounded,  may  at  last  be  resolved  into  simple 
ideas,  which  are  all  the  materials  of  knowledge  or  thought  we 
have,  or  can  have.  Nor  shall  we  have  reason  to  fear  that  the 
mind  is  hereby  stinted  to  too  scanty  a  number  of  ideas,  if  we 
consider  what  an  inexhaustible  stock  of  simple  modes,  number 
and  figure  alone  afford  us.  How  far  then  mixed  modes  which 
admit  of  the  various  combinations  of  different  simple  ideas,  and 


CH.  XXII. "j  OK  MIXED  MODES.  2b\J 

their  infinite  modes,  are  from  being  few  and  scanty,  we  may 
easily  imagine.  So  that  before  we  have  done,  we  shall  see  that 
nobody  need  be  afraid  he  shall  not  have  scope  and  compass 
enough  for  his  thoughts  to  range  in,  though  they  be,  as  I  pretend, 
confined  only  to  simple  ideas  received  from  sensation  or  reflec- 
tion, and  their  several  combinations. 

§  10.    MOTION,  THINKING,  AND  POWER,  HAVE  BEEN  MOST  MODIFIED. 

It  is  worth  our  observing,  which  of  all  our  simple  ideas  have 
been  most  modified,  and  had  most  mixed  ideas  made  out  of  them, 
with  names  given  to  them ;  and  those  have  been  these  three  ; 
thinking  and  motion,  (which  are  the  two  ideas  which  comprehend 
in  them  all  action)  and  power,  from  whence  these  actions  are 
conceived  to  flow.  The  simple  ideas,  I  say,  of  thinking,  motion, 
and  power,  have  been  those  which  have  been  most  modified,  and 
out  of  whose  modifications  have  been  made  most  complex  modes 
with  names  to  them.  For  action  being  the  great  business  of 
mankind,  and  the  whole  matter  about  which  all  laws  are  con- 
versant, it  is  no  wonder  that  the  several  modes  of  thinking  and 
motion  should  be  taken  notice  of,  the  ideas  of  them  observed, 
and  laid  up  in  the  memory,  and  have  names  assigned  to  them; 
without  which,  laws  could  be  but  ill  made,  or  vice  and  disorder 
repressed.  Nor  could  any  communication  be  well  had  among 
men,  without  such  complex  ideas,  with  names  to  them  ;  and 
therefore  men  have  settled  names,  and  supposed  settled  ideas  in 
their  minds,  of  modes  of  action  distinguished  by  their  causes, 
means,  objects,  ends,  instruments,  time,  place,  and  other  circum- 
stances, and  also  of  their  powers  fitted  for  those  actions  :  v.  g. 
boldness  is  the  power  to  speak  or  do  what  we  intend,  before 
others,  without  fear  or  disorder;  and  the  Greeks  call  the  confi- 
dence of  speaking  by  a  peculiar  name,  5r*/5^V'« :  which  power  or 
ability  in  man,  of  doing  any  thing,  when  it  has  been  acquired  by 
frequent  doing  the  same  thing,  is  that  idea  we  name  habit ;  when 
it  is  forward,  and  ready  upon  every  occasion  to  break  into  action, 
we  call  it  disposition.  Thus,  testiness  is  a  disposition  or  aptness 
to  be  angry. 

To  conclude  :  Let  us  examine  any  modes  of  action,  v.g.  con- 
sideration and  assent,  which  are  actions  of  the  mind  ;  running 
and  speaking,  which  are  actions  of  the  body  ;  revenge  and  mur- 
der, which  are  actions  of  both  together  ;  and  we  shall  find  them 
but  so  many  collections  of  simple  ideas,  which  together  make  up 
the  complex  ones  signified  by  those  names. 

4    11.    SEVERAL  WORDS  SEEMING   TO   SIGNIFY    ACTION,   SIGNIFY  BUT   THE 

EFFECT. 

Power  being  the  source  from  whence  all  action  proceeds,  the 
substances  wherein  these  powers  are,  when  they  exert  this 
power  into  act,  are  called  causes ;  and  the  substances  which 
thereupon  are  produred.   or  the  simple  ideas  which  are  intro- 


264  OF  MIXED  MODES.  [BOOK  II, 

duced  into  any  subject  by  the  exerting  of  that  power,  are  called 
effects.  The  efficacy  whereby  the  new  substance  or  idea  is 
produced,  is  called,  in  the  subject  exerting  that  power,  action  ; 
but  in  the  subject  wherein  any  simple  idea  is  changed  or  pro- 
duced, it  is  called  passion  :  which  efficacy,  however  various,  and 
the  effects  almost  infinite,  yet  we  can,  I  think,  conceive  it,  in 
intellectual  agents,  to  be  nothing  else  but  modes  of  thinking  and 
willing ;  in  corporeal  agents,  nothing  else  but  modifications  of 
motion.  I  say,  I  think  we  cannot  conceive  it  to  be  any  other  but 
these  two  :  for  whatever  sort  of  action,  besides  these,  produces 
any  effects,  1  confess  myself  to  have  no  notion  or  idea  of;  and 
so  it  is  quite  remote  from  my  thoughts,  apprehensions,  and  know- 
ledge ;  and  as  much  in  the  dark  to  me  as  five  other  senses,  or  as 
the  ideas  of  colours  to  a  blind  man  :  and  therefore  many  words, 
which  seem  to  express  some  action,  signify  nothing  of  the  action 
or  modus  operandi  at  all,  but  barely  the  effect,  with  some  circum- 
stances of  the  subject  wrought  on,  or  cause  operating;  v .  g. 
creation,  annihilation,  contain  in  them  no  idea  of  the  action  or 
manner  whereby  they  are  produced,  but  barely  of  the  cause,  and 
the  thing  done.  And  when  a  countryman  says  the  cold  freezes 
water,  though  the  word  freezing  seems  to  import  some  action, 
yet  truly  it  signifies  nothing  but  the  effect,  viz.  that  water  that  was 
before  fluid  is  become  hard  and  consistent,  without  containing 
any  idea  of  the  action  whereby  it  is  done. 

§    12.    MIXED  MODES  MADE  ALSO  OF  OTHER  IDEAS. 

I  think  I  shall  not  need  to  remark  here,  that  though  power 
and  action  make  the  greatest  part  of  mixed  modes,  marked  by 
names,  and  familiar  in  the  minds  and  mouths  of  men,  yet  other 
simple  ideas  and  their  several  combinations  are  not  excluded ; 
much  less,  I  think,  will  it  be  necessary  for  me  to  enumerate  all 
the  mixed  modes,  which  have  been  settled,  with  names  to  them. 
That  would  be  to  make  a  dictionary  of  the  greatest  part  of  the 
words  made  use  of  in  divinity,  ethics,  law,  and  politics,  and 
several  other  sciences.  All  that  is  requisite  to  my  present  design 
is,  to  show  what  sort  of  ideas  those  are  which  I  call  mixed  modes, 
how  the  mind  comes  by  them,  and  that  they  are  compositions 
made  up  of  simple  ideas  got  from  sensation  and  reflection  : 
which  I  suppose  I  have  done. 


266 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

OF  OUR  COMPLEX  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES 

§   1.    IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES,  HOW  MADE. 

The  mind  being,  as  I  have  declared,  furnished  with  a  great 
number  of  the  simple  ideas,  conveyed  in  by  the  senses,  as  they 
are  found  in  exterior  things,  or  by  reflection  on  its  own  opera- 
tions, takes  notice  also,  that  a  certain  number  of  these  simple 
ideas  go  constantly  together  ;  which  being  presumed  to  belong 
to  one  thing,  and  words  being  suited  to  common  apprehensions, 
and  made  use  of  for  quick  despatch,  are  called,  so  united  in  one 
subject,  by  one  name  ;  which,  by  inadvertency,  we  are  apt  after- 
ward to  talk  of,  and  consider  as  one  simple  idea,  which  indeed 
is  a  complication  of  many  ideas  together  :  because,  as  I  have 
said,  not  imagining  how  these  simple  ideas  can  subsist  by  them- 
selves, we  accustom  ourselves  to  suppose  some  substratum 
wherein  they  do  subsist,  and  from  which  they  do  result,  and 
which  therefore  we  call  substance.     (1) 

(1)  This  section,  which  was  intended  only  to  show  how  the  individuals  of  dis- 
tinct species  of  substances  came  to  be  looked  upon  as  simple  ideas,  and  so  to 
have  simple  names,  viz.  from  the  supposed  substratum  or  substance,  which  was 
looked  upon  as  the  thing  itself  in  which  inhered,  and  from  which  resulted  that 
complication  of  ideas,  by  which  it  was  represented  to  us,  hath  been  mistake-, 
for  an  account  of  the  idea  of  substance  in  general ;  and  as  such,  hath  been  re- 
presented in  these  words;  But  how  comes  the  general  idea  of  substance  to  bo. 
framed  in  our  minds?  Is  this  by  abstracting  and  enlarging  simple  ideas ?  Nq_: 
But  "  it  is  by  a  complication  of  many  simple  ideas  fogeKier  :  because  not  ima- 
gining how  these  simple  ideas  can  subsist  by  themselves,  we  accustom  ourselves 
to  suppose  some  substratum  wherein  they  do  subsist,  and  from  whence  they  d<> 
result ;  which  therefore  we  call  substance."  And  is  this  all,  indeed,  that  is  to  b< 
said  for  the  being  of  substance,  That  we  accustom  ourselves  to  suppose  a  substrh  - 
turn?  Is  that  custom  grounded  upon  true  reason,  or  not  f  If  not,  then  accidents  01 
modes  must  subsist  of  themselves  ;  and  these  simple  ideas  need  no  tortoise  to 
support  them  ;  for  figures  and  colours,  Sec.  would  do  well  enough  of  themselves, 
but  for  some  fancies  men  have  accustomed  themselves  to. 

To  which  objeetiou  of  the  bishop  of  Worcester,  our  author0  answers  thus  - 
Herein  your  lordahjp  seems  to  charge  me  with  two  faults :  one,  That  I  make  the 
general  idea  of  substance  to  be  framed  not  by  abstracting  and  enlarging  simple 
ideas,  but  by  a  complication  of  many  simple  ideas  together  :  the  other,  as  if  1  had 

i,  the  being  of  substance  had  no  other  foundation  but  the  fancies  of  men. 

As  to  the  first  of  these,  I  beg  leave  to  remind  your  lordship,  that  I  say  in  more 
places  than  one,  and  particularly  Book  S.  Chap.  3. 5  6.  and  Book  1.  Chap.  1  ] .  j  9. 
where,  ex  professo,  I  treat  of  abstraction  and  general  ideas,  that  they  are  all  made  bj 
abstracting,  and  therefore  could  not  be  understood  to  mean,  that  that  of  substance. 
was  made  any  other  way  ;  however  my  pen  might  have  slipt,  or  the  negligence 
..essiou,  where  I  might  have  something  else  than  the  general  idea  of  Mil 
stance  in  view,  might  make  me  seem  to  say  so. 

That  1  was  not  speaking  of  the  general  idea  of  substance  in  the  passage  yom 
lordship  quotes,  is  manifest  from  the  title  of  that  chapter,  which  is.  Of  the  com- 
plex  ideas  of  substances ;  and  the  first  section  of  it,  which  your  lordship  cites  lb: 
I  have  set  down. 

In  whii  h  words  1  do  not  observe  any  that  deny  the  general  idea  of  substance  t< 
h  •  made  by  abstracting,  nor  any  that  say  it  ia  nmdc  by  a  complication  of  man; 
a  rnhi  ,,.  ii, ,  i 

-    T  34 


266  OCR  IDEAS   OF  SUBSTANCES.  [BOOK  II. 

§  2.    OUR  IDEA  OF  SUBSTANCE  IN  GENERAL. 

So  that  if  any  one  will  examine  himself  concerning  his  notion  of 
pure  substance  in  general,  he  will  find  he  has  no  other  idea  of  it 
at  all,  but  only  a  supposition  of  he  knows  not  what  support  of 
such  qualities,  which  are  capable  of  producing-  simple  ideas  in 
us  ;  which  qualities  are  commonly  called  accidents.  If  any  one 
should  be  asked,  What  is  the  subject  wherein  colour  or  weight 
inheres?  he. would  have  nothing  to  say,  but  the  solid  extended 

simple  ideas  together.  But  speaking  in  that  place  of  the  ideas  of  distinct  sub' 
stances,  such  as  man,  horse,  gold,  &c.  I  say  they  are  made  up  of  certain  combi- 
nations of  simple  ideas,  which  combinations  are  looked  upon,  each  of  them,  as 
one  simple  idea,  though  they  are  many  ;  and  we  call  it  by  one  name  of  substance, 
rhough  made  up  of  modes,  from  the  custom  of  supposing  a  substratum,  wherein 
that  combination  does  subsist.  So  that  in  this  paragraph  I  only  give  an  account 
«tf  the  idea  of  distinct  substances,  such  as  oak,  elephant,  iron,  &c.  how,  though 
they  are  made  up  of  distinct  complications  of  modes,  yet  they  are  looked  on  as 
one  idea,  called  by  one  name,  as  making  distinct  sorts  of  substance. 

But  that  my  notion  of  substance  in  general  is  quite  different  from  these,  and 
has  no  such  combination  of  simple  ideas  in  it,  is  evident  from  the  immediate  fol- 
lowing words,  where  I  say,  &"  The  idea  of  pure  substance  in  general  is  only  a 
supposition  of  we  know  not  what  support  of  such  qualities  as  are  capable  of  pro- 
ducing simple  ideas  in  us."  And  these  two  I  plainly  distinguish  all  along,  par- 
ticularly where  I  say,  a  whatever  therefore  be  the  secret  and  abstract  nature  of 
substance  in  general,  all  the  ideas  we  have  of  particular  distinct  substances,  are 
nothing  but  several  combinations  of  simple  ideas,  coexisting  in  such,  though  un- 
known cause  of  their  union,  as  makes  the  whole  subsist  of  itself." 

The  other  thing  laid  to  my  charge,  is,  as  if  I  took  the  being  of  substance  to  be 
doubtful,  or  rendered  it  so  by  the  imperfect  and  ill-grounded  idea  I  have  given 
of  it.  To  which  I  beg  leave  to  say,  that  I  ground  not  the  being,  but  the  idea  of 
substance,  on  our  accustoming  ourselves  to  suppose  some  substratum  ;  for  it  is  of 
the  idea  alone  I  speak  there,  and  not  of  the  being  of  substance.  And  having 
every  where  affirmed,  and  built  upon  it,  that  a  man  is  a  substance,  I  cannot  be 
supposed  to  question  or  doubt  of  the  being  of  substance,  till  I  can  question  or 
doubt  of  my  own  being.  Farther,  I  say,  c  "  Sensation  convinces  us,  that  there  arc 
solid,  extended  substances ;  and  reflection,  that  there  are  thinking  ones."  So 
that,  I  think,  the  being  of  substance  is  not  shaken  by  what  I  have  said  :  and  n 
the  idea  of  it  should  be,  yet  (the  being  of  things  depending  not  on  our  ideas)  the 
being  of  substance  would  not  be  at  all  shaken  by  my  saying,  we  had  but  an  ob- 
scure imperfect  idea  of  it,  and  that  that  idea  came  from  our  accustoming  our- 
selves to  suppose  some  substratum  :  or  indeed,  if  I  should  say,  we  had  no  idea  of 
substance  at  all.  For  a  great  many  things  may  be,  and  are  granted  to  have  a 
being,  and  be  in  nature,  of  which  we  have  no  ideas.  For  example  :  it  cannot  be 
doubted  but  there  are  distinct  species  of  separate  spirits,  of  which  yet  we  have  no 
distinct  ideas  at  all :  it  cannot  be  questioned  but  spirits  have  ways  of  communi- 
cating their  thoughts,  and  yet  we  have  no  idea  of  it  at  all. 

The  being  then  of  substance  being  safe  and  secure,  notwithstanding  any  thiu^ 
I  have  said,  let  us  see  whether  the  idea  of  it  be  not  so  too.  Your  lordship  asks, 
with  concern,  and  is  this  all,  indeed,  that  is  to  be  said  for  the  being  (if  your  lord- 
ship  please,  let  it  be  the  idea)  of  substance,  that  we  accustom  ourselves  to  sup- 
pose a  substratum  ?  Is  that  custom  grounded  upon  true  reason  or  no?  1  have  said 
that  it  is  grounded  upon  this,  <*"  That  we  cannot  conceive  how  simple  ideas  of 
sensible  qualities  should  subsist  alone  ;  and  therefore  we  suppose  them  to  exist 
in,  and  to  be  supported  by  some  common  subject ;  which  support  we  denote  by 
the  name  substance."  Which,  I  think,  i3  a  true  reason,  because  it  is  the  same 
vour  lordship  grounds  the  supposition  of  a  substratum  on,  in  this  very  page  ;  even 
on  i  he  repugnancy  to  our  conceptions,  that  modes  and  accidents  should  subsist  by 
themselves.  So  that  1  have  the  good  luck  to  agree  here  with  your  lordship  :  an.  J. 
'■onscquently  conclude,  I  have  your  approbation  in  this,  that  the  substratum  tp 
modes  or  accidents,  which  is  our  idea  of  substance  in  general,  is  founded  in  this'. 
.  i.Yc  cannot  <onceive  how  mo des  or  accidents  can  subsist  by  theuiselve-  ' 
. '  •  .  c  V>.  Sec.  29 


CHAP.   XXIII.]  OUR  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANC  i  lO" 

parts  :  and  if  he  were  demanded,  What  is  that  solidity  and 
extension  inhere  in  ?  he  would  not  be  in  a  much  better  case 
than  the  Indian  before  mentioned,  who,  saying  that  the  world 
was  supported  by  a  great  elephant,  was  asked  what  the  elephant 
rested  on  ?  To  which  his  answer  was,  A  great  tortoise.  But 
being  again  pressed  to  know  what  gave  support  to  the  broad- 
backed  tortoise,  replied,  Something,  he  knew  not  what.  And 
thus  here,  as  in  all  other  cases  where  we  use  words  without, 
having  clear  and  distinct  ideas,  we  talk  like  children  ;  who  being 
questioned  what  such  a  thing  is,  which  they  know  not,  readily 
give  this  satisfactory  answer,  That  it  is  something  :  which,  in 
truth,  signifies  no  more,  when  so  used  either  by  children  or  men, 
but  that  they  know  not  what ;  and  that  the  thing  they  pretend 
to  know  and  talk  of,  is  what  they  have  no  distinct  idea  of  at  all, 
and  so  are  perfectly  ignorant  of  it,  and  in  the  dark.  The  idea, 
then,  we  have,  to  which  we  give  the  general  name  substance, 
being  nothing  but  the  supposed,  but  unknown  support  of  those 
qualities  we  find  existing,  which  we  imagine  cannot  subsist  sine 
re  substante,  without  something  to  support  them,  we  call  that 
support  substantia ;  which,  according  to  the  true  import  of  the 
word,  is,  in  plain  English,  standing  under,  or  upholding.    (1) 

(1)  From  this  paragraph,  there  hath  been  raised  an  objection  by  the  bishop  of 
Worcester,  as  if  our  author's  doctrine  here  concerning  ideas  had  almost  discard- 
ed substance  out  of  the  world  :  his  words  in  this  paragraph,  being  brought  to 
prove,  that  he  is  one  of  the  gentlemen  of  this  new  way  of  reasoning,  that  have 
almost  discarded  substance  out  of  the  reasonable  part  of  the  world.  To  which 
our  author  replies,  e  This,  my  lord,  is  an  accusation,  which  your  lordship  will 
pardon  me,  if  I  do  not  readily  know  what  to  plead  to,  because  1  do  not  under- 
stand what  it  is  almost  to  discard  substance  out  of  the  reasonable  part  of  tin- 
world.  If  your  lordship  means  by  it,  that  I  deny,  or  doubt,  that  there  is  in  the 
world  any  such  thing  as  substance,  that  your  lordship  will  acquit  me  of,  when 
your  lordship  looks  again  into  this  23d  chapter  of  the  second  book,  which  you 
have  cited  more  than  once  ;  where  you  will  find  these  words.  §  4.  "  When  we 
talk  or  think  of  any  particular  sort  of  corporeal  substances,  as  horse,  stone,  &.-. 
though  the  idea  we  have  of  either  of  them,  be  but  the  complication  or  collection 
of  those  several  simple  ideas  of  sensible  cptalitics,  which  we  use  to  find  united  Lij 
the  thing  called  horse  or  stone ;  yet  because  we  cannot  conceive  how  they  should 
subsist  alone,  nor  one  in  another,  we  suppose  them  existing  in,  and  supported  by 
some  common  subject,  which  support  wc  denote  by  the  name  substance  ;  though 
it  is  certain,  we  have  no  clear  or  distinct  idea  of  that  thing  we  suppose  a  support.'" 
And  again,  §  5.  "  The  same  happens  concerning  the  operations  of  the  mind,  viz. 
thinking,  reasoning,  fearing,  &o.  which  we  considering  not  to  subsist  of  them- 
selves, nor  apprehending  how  they  can  belong  to  body,  or  be  produced  by  i:. 
-.-.re  apt  to  think  these  the  actions  of  some  other  substance,  which  we  call  spirit ; 
whereby  yet  it  is  evident,  that  having  no  other  idea  or  notion  of  matter,  but  sobm  - 
tiling  wherein  those  many  sensible  qualities,  which  affect  our  senses,  do  subsist, 
by  supposing  a  substance,  wherein  thinking,  knowing,  doubting,  and  a  power  oi 
moving,  &c.  do  subsist,  we  have  as  clear  a  notion  of  the  nature  or  substance  ot 
spirit,  as  we  have  of  body ;  the  one  being  supposed  to  be  (without  knowing  what 
it  is)  the  substratum  to  those  simple  ideas  we  have  from  without :  and  the  other 
supposed  (with  a  like  ignorance  oi  what  it  is)  to  be  the  substratum  to  those  ope- 
rations, which  we  experiment  h>  ourselves  within."  And  again,  j  «5.  '.'Whatever 
therefore  be  the  secret  nature  of  substance  in  general,  all  the,  ideas  we  have  oi' 
liar  flistinct  substances,  are  nothing  but  several  combittations  of  simp!*- 

e  In  hi'  first 'ottor  In  tbat  bishop. 


!j68  OUK.  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES.  [BOOK  II. 

§  3.    OF  THE  SORTS  OF  SUBSTANCE!?. 

An  obscure  and  relative  idea  of  substance  in  general  being  thus 
made,  we  come  to  have  the  ideas  of  particular  sorts  of  substan- 
ces, by  collecting  such  combinations  of  simple  ideas,  as  are,  by 

ideas,  coexisting  in  such,  though  unknown  cause  of  their  union,  as  makes  the 
whole  subsist  of  itself."  And  I  farther  say  in  the  same  section,  "that  we  sup- 
pose these  combinations  to  rest  in,  and  to  be  adherent  to  that  unknown  common 
subject,  -which  inheres  not  in  anything  else."  And  §  3. "  That  our  complex 
ideas  of  substances,  besides  all  those  simple  ideas  they  are  made  up  of,  have 
always  the  confused  idea  of  something  to  which  they  belong,  and  in  which  they 
bubsist ;  and  therefore,  when  we  speak  of  any  sort  of  substance,  we  say  it  is  a 
thing  having  such  and  such  qualities  ;  as  body  is  a  thing  that  is  extended,  figured, 
and  capable  of  motion ;  spirit,  a  thing  capable  of  thinking. 

"  These,  and  the  like  fashions  of  speaking  intimate,  that  the  substance  is  sup- 
posed always  something  besides  the  extension,  figure,  solidity,  motion,  thinking, 
p>  other  observable  idea,  though  we  know  not  what  it  is." 

"  Our  idea  of  body,  I  say,  /is  an  extended,  solid  substance  ;  and  our  idea  of  soul, 
is  of  a  substance  that  thinks."  So  that  as  long  as  there  is  any  such  thing  as  body 
o*  spirit  in  the  world,  I  have  done  nothing  towards  the  discarding  substance  out  of 
the  reasonable  part  of  the  world.  Nay,  as  long  as  there  is  any  simple  idea  or  sen- 
sible quality  left,  according  to  my  way  of  arguing,  substance  cannot  be  discarded  ; 
because  all  simple  ideas,  all  sensible  qualities,  carry  with  them  a  supposition  of  a 
substratum  to  exist  in,  and  of  a  substance  wherein  they  inhere  :  and  of  this  that 
whole  chapter  is  so  full,  that  I  challenge  any  one  who  reads  it,  to  think  I  have 
almost,  or  one  jot  discarded  substance  out  of  the  reasonable  part  of  the  world. 
And  of  this,  man,  horse,  sun,  water,  iron,  diamond,  &c.  which  I  have  mentioned 
of  distinct  sorts  of  substances,  will  be  my  witnesses,  as  long  as  any  such  things 
remain  in  being ;  of  which  I  say,  S  "  That  the  ideas  of  substances  are  such  com- 
binations cf  simple  ideas  as  are  taken  to  represent  distinct  particular  things,  sub- 
sisting by  themselves,  in  which  the  supposed  or  confused  idea  of  substance  is 
always  the  first  and  chief." 

If,  by  almost  discarding  substance  out  of  the  reasonable  part  of  the  world,  your 
lordship  means,  that  I  have  destroyed,  and  almost  discarded  the  true  idea  we  have 
*f  it,  by  calling  it  a  substratum,  A  a  supposition  of  we  know  not  what  support  of 
such  qualities  as  are  capable  of  producing  simple  ideas  in  us,  an  obscure  and  re- 
lative idea  i  *  That  without  knowing  what  it  is  that  which  supports  accidents ; 
se  that  of  substance  we  have  no  idea  of  what  it  is,  but  only  a  confused,  obscure 
<»ne  of  what  it  does :  I  must  confess,  this  and  the  like  I  have  said  of  our  idea  of 
e  ubstance  :  and  should  be  very  glad  to  be  convinced  by  your  lordship,  or  any  body 
t-lse,  that  I  have  spoken  too  meanly  of  it.  He  that  would  show  me  a  more  clear 
and  distinct  idea  of  substance,  would  do  me  a  kindness  I  should  thank  him  for. 
But  this  is  the  best  I  can  hitherto  find,  either  in  my  own  thoughts,  or  in  the  books 
of  logicians:  for  their  account  or  idea  of  it  is  that  it  is  ens,  or,  res  per  ss  subsistens,  c> 
substdns  aceidentibus ;  which  in  eiFect  is  no  more,  but  that  substance  is  a  being  or 
thing  ;  or,  in  short,  something,  they  know  not  what,  or  of  which  they  have  no 
clearer  idea,  than  that  it  is  something  which  supports  accidents,  or  other  simple 
ideas  or  modes,  and  is  not  supported  itself,  as  a  mode,  or  an  accident.  So  that  1 
do  not  see  but  Burgersdicius,  Sanderson,  and  the  whole  tribe  of  logicians,  must 
be  reckoned  with  the  gentlemen  of  this  new  way  of  reasoning,  who  have  almost 
discarded  substance  out  of  the  reasonable  part  of  the  world. 

But  supposing,  my  lord,  that  I,  or  these  gentlemen,  logicians  of  note  in  the 
school,  Should  own  that  we  have  a  very  imperfect,  obscure,  inadequate  idea  of 
substance,  would  it  not  be  a  little  too  hard  to  charge  us  with  discarding  substance 
out  of  the  world  ?  For  what  almost  discarding,  and  reasonable  part  of  the  world, 
signifies,  I  must  confess,  I  do  not  clearly  comprehend  :  but  let  almost  and  reason- 
able part  signify  here  what  they  will,  for  I  dare  say  your  lordship  meant  some- 
thing by  them ;  would  not  your  lordship  think  you  were  a  little  hardly  dealt 
with,  if,  for  acknowledging  yourself  to  have  a  very  imperfect  and  inadequate 
>aof  God,  or  of  several  other  things,  which  in  this  very  treatise  you  confess  cr 

fB.  2.  C.  23.  Sec.  22.  g  M.  2.  C.  12.  Sec.  6. 

i  B. 2.  C.  23.  Sec.  i.  Sec.  2.  Sec  '  C  '3.  Sec.  19. 


CHAP.  XXIII.]  OUR  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES.  26f) 

experience  and  observation  of  men's  senses,  taken  notice  of  to 
exist  together,  and  are  therefore  supposed  to  flow  from  the  par- 
ticular internal  constitution,  or  unknown  essence  of  that  sub- 
stance. Thus  we  come  to  have  the  ideas  of  a  man,  horse,  gold, 
water,  &c.  of  which  substances,  whether  any  one  has  any  other 
clear  idea,  farther  than  of  certain  simple  ideas  co-existing  to- 
gether, I  appeal  to  every  one's  own  experience.  It  is  the  ordi- 
nary qualities  observable  in  iron,  or  a  diamond,  put  together, 
that  make  the  true  complex  idea  of  those  substances,  which  a 

understandings  come  short  in,  and  cannot  comprehend,  you  should  be  accused  to 
be  one  of  these  gentlemen,  that  have  almost  discarded  God,  or  those  other  myste- 
rious things,  -whereof  you  contend  we  have  very  imperfect  and  inadequate  idea.' ■, 
out  of  the  reasonable  world  ?  For  I  suppose  your  lordship  means  by  almost  dis- 
carding out  of  the  reasonable  world,  something  that  is  blamable,  for  it  seemn 
not  to  be  inserted  for  a  commendation ;  and  yet  I  think  he  deserves  no  blame, 
who  owns  the  having  imperfect,  inadequate,  obscure  ideas,  where  he  has  no  better  ■ 
however,  if  it  be  inferred  from  thence,  that  either  he  almost  excludes  those  things 
out  of  being,  or  out  of  rational  discourse,  if  that  be  meant  by  the  reasonable 
world  ;  for  the  first  of  these  will  not  hold,  because  the  being  of  things  in  the 
world  depends  not  on  our  ideas :  the  latter  indeed  is  true  in  some  degree,  but  it  is 
no  fault:  for  it  is  certain,  that  where  we  have  imperfect,  inadequate,  confused, 
obscure  ideas,  we  cannot  discourse  and  reason  about  those  things  so  well,  fullv, 
and  clearly,  as  if  we  had  perfect,  adequate,  clear,  and  distinct  ideas. 

Other  objections  are  made  against  the  following  parts  of  this  paragraph  by  that, 
reverend  prelate,  viz.  The  repetition  of  the  story  of  the  Indian  philosopher,  and 
the  talking  like  children  about  substance  :  to  which  our  author  replies  : 

Your  lordship,  I  must  own,  with  great  reason,  takes  notice,  that  I  paralleled 
more  than  once  our  idea  of  substance  with  the  Indian  philosopher's  he-knew  - 
not-what,  which  supported  the  tortoise,  &c. 

This  repetition  is,  I  confess,  a  fault  in  exact  writing:  but  I  have  acknowledged 
and  excused  it  in  these  words  in  my  preface  :  "  I  am  not  ignorant  how  little  I 
herein  consult  my  own  reputation,  when  I  knowingly  let  my  essay  go  with  a 
fault  so  apt  to  disgust  the  most  judicious,  who  are  always  the  nicest  readers." 
And  there  farther  add,  "  That  I  did  not  publish  my  essay  for  such  great  master.--. 
of  knowledge  as  your  lordship ;  but  fitted  it  to  men  of  my  own  size,  to  whom  re- 
petitions might  be  sometimes  useful."  It  would  not  therefore  have  been  beside 
your  lordship's  generosity  (who  were  not  intended  to  be  provoked  by  this  repeti- 
tion) to  have  passed  by  such  a  fault  as  this,  in  one  who  pretends  not  beyond  the 
lower  rank  of  writers.  But  I  see  your  lordship  would  have  me  exact,  and  with- 
out any  faults  ;  and  I  wish  I  could  be  so,  the  better  to  deserve  your  lordship's 
approbation. 

My  saying,  "  That  when  we  talk  of  substance,  we  talk  like  children ;  who 
being  asked  a  question  about  something  which  they  know  not,  readily  °-ivc  this 
satisfactory  answer,  That  it  is  something  ;"  your  lordship  seems  mightily  to  lav  to 
heart  in  these  words  that  follow  :  "  If  this  be  the  truth  of  the  case"5,  we  must  still 
talk  like  children,  and  I  know  not  how  it  can  be  remedied.  For  if  we  cannot 
•  ome  at  a  rational  idea  of  substance,  we  can  have  no  principle  of  certainty  to  «o 
upon  in  this  debate." 

If  your  lordship  has  any  better  and  distincter  idea  of  substance  than  mine  is, 
whieh  I  have  given  an  account  of,  your  lordship  is  not  at  all  concerned  in  what  1 
have  there  said.  But  those  whose  idea,  of  substance, -whether  a  rational  or  not  ra- 
tional idea,  is  like  mine,  something  they  know  not  what,  must  in  that,  with  me,  talk 
hke  children,  when  they  speak  of  something,  tiiey  know  not  what.  For  a  philoso- 
pher that  says,  That  which  supports  accidents,  is  something',  he  knows  not  what; 
and  a  countryman  that  says,  the  foundation  oi  the  great  church  at  Harlaem,  is  sup- 
ported by  something,  he  knows  not  what;  and  a  child  that  stands  in  the  dark 
upon  his  mother's  muff,  and  says  he  stands  upon  something,  he  knows  not  what. 
in  this  respect  talk  all  three  alike.  But  if  the  countryman  knows,  that  the  foun- 
f.i,.-  0hurc*h  hf  Harlaem  U.  supported  i  .  ,i,,.  houses  abou<  Bri« 


270  OUR   IDEAS    OP    SUBSTANCES.  [BOOK    II, 

smith  or  a  jeweller  commonly  knows  better  than  a  philosopher ; 
who,  whatever  substantial  forms  he  may  talk  of,  has  no  other 
idea  of  those  substances  than  what  is  framed  by  a  collection  of 
those  simple  ideas  which  are  to  be  found  in  them  :  only  we 
must  take  notice,  that  our  complex  ideas  of  substances,  besides 
all  those  simple  ideas  they  are  made  up  of,  have  always  the  con- 
fused idea  of  something  to  which  they  belong,  and  in  which  they 
subsist.  And  therefore,  when  we  speak  of  any  sort  of  sub- 
stance, we  say  it  is  a  thing  having  such  or  such  qualities ;  as 

tol  are  ;  or  by  "ravel,  as  the  houses  about  London  are  ;  or  by  wooden  piles,  as 
the  houses  in  Amsterdam  are;  it  is  plain,  that  then  having  a  clear  and  distinct 
idea  of  the  thin^  that  supports  the  church,  he  does  not  talk  of  this  matter  as  a 
child;  nor  will  he  of  the  support  of  accidents,  when  he  has  a  clearer  and  more 
distinct  idea  of  it,  than  that  it  is  barely  something.  But  as  long  as  we  think  like 
children,  in  cases  where  our  ideas  are  no  clearer  nor  distincter  than  theirs,  I  agree 
with  your  lordship,  that  I  know  not  how  it  can  be  remedied,  but  that  we  must  talk 
like  them. 

Farther  the  bishop  asks,  Whether  there  be  no  difference  between  the  bare 
bein°-  of  a  thing,  and  its  subsistence  by  itself?  To  which  our  author  answers, 
Yes  k  But  what  will  that  do  to  prove,  that  upon  my  principles,  we  can  come  to 
no  certainty  of  reason,  that  there  is  any  such  thing  as  substance  ?  You  seem  by 
this  question  to  conclude,  that  the  idea  of  a  thing  that  subsists  by  itself,  is  a  clear 
and  distinct  idea  of  substance  ;  but  I  beg  leave  to  ask,  Is  the  idea  of  the  manner 
of  subsistence  of  a  thing,  the  idea  of  the  thing  itself;  If  it  be  not,  we  may  have  a 
clear  and  distinct  idea  of  the  manner,  and  yet  have  none  but  a  very  obscure  and 
confused  one  of  the  thing.  For  example  ;  I  tell  your  lordship,  that  I  know  a 
thing  that  cannot  subsist  without  a  support,  and  1  know  another  thing  that  does 
subsist  without  a  support,  and  say  no  more  of  them  ;  can  you,  by  having  the 
clear  and  distinct  ideas  of  having  a  support,  and  not  having  a  support,  say,  that 
you  have  a  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  the  thing  that  I  know  which  has,  and  of  the 
tiling  that  I  know  which  has  not  a  support  ?  If  your  lordship  can,  I  beseech  you  to 
give  me  the  clear  and  distinct  ideas  of  these,  which  I  only  call  by  the  general 
name,  things  that  have  or  have  not  supports  :  for  such  there  are,  and  such  I  shall 
•>ive  your  lordship  clear  and  distinct  ideas  of,  when  you  shall  please  to  call  upon 
me  for  them ;  though  I  think  your  lordship  will  scarce  find  them  by  the  general 
and  confused  idea  of  things,  nor  in  the  clearer  and  more  distinct  idea  of  having 
or  not  having  a  support. 

To  show  a  blind  man,  that  he  has  no  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  scarlet,  I  tell 
him,  that  his  notion  of  it,  that  it  is  a  thing  or  being,  does  not  prove  he  has  any 
clear  or  distinct  idea  of  it ;  but  barely  that  he  lakes  it  to  be  something,  he  knows 
not  what— He  replies,  That  he  knows  more  than  that,  v.  g.  he  knows  that  it  sub- 
sists,  or  inheres  in  another  thing :  and  is  there  no  difference,  says  he,  in  your  lord- 
ship's words,  between  the  bare  being  of  a  thing,  and  its  subsistence  in  another  : 
Yes,  say  I  to  him,  a  great  deal,  they  are  very  different  ideas.  But  for  all  that, 
you  have  no  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  scarlet,  nor  such  a  one  as  I  have,  who  see 
and  know  it.  and  have  another  kind  of  idea  of  it,  besides  that  of  inherence. 

Your  lordship  has  the  idea  of  subsisting  by  itself,  and  therefore  you  conclude, 
you  have  a  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  the  thing  that  subsists  by  itself:  which  me- 
thinks,  is  all  one,  as  if  your  countryman  should  say,  he  hath  an  idea  of  a  cedar  of 
Lebanon,  that  it  is  a  tree  of  a  nature  to  need  no  prop  to  lean  on  for  its  support : 
therefore  he  hath  a  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  a  cedar  of  Lebanon:  which  clear 
and  distinct  idea,  when  he  comes  to  examine,  is  nothing  but  a  general  one  of  a 
tree,  with  which  his  indetermined  idea  of  a  cedar  is  confounded.  Just  so  is  the 
idea  of  substance  ;  which,  however  called  clear  and  distinct,  is  confounded  with 
the  general  indetermined  idea  of  something.  But  suppose  that  the  manner  of 
subsisting  hy  itself  gives  us  a  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  substance,  how  does  that 
prove.  That  upon  my  principles  we  can  come  to  no  certainty  of  reason,  that 
there  is  any  such  thing  as  substance  in  the  world  ?  Which  is  the  proposition  to 

be  proved. 

Jr  Mr.  Locke's  third  Idler. 


CHAP.    XXIII.]  OUR  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES.  271 

body  is  a  thing  that  is  extended,  figured,  and  capable  of  motion ; 
spirit,  a  thing  capable  of  thinking  ;  and  so  hardness,  friability, 
and  power  to  draw  iron,  we  say,  are  qualities  to  be  found  in  a 
loadstone.  These,  and  the  like  fashions  of  speaking,  intimate 
that  the  substance  is  supposed  always  something  besides  the 
extension,  figure,  solidity,  motion,  thinking,  or  other  observable 
ideas,  though  we  know  not  what  it  is. 

§  4.    NO  CLEAR  IDEA  OF  SUBSTANCE  IN  GENERAL. 

Hence,  when  we  talk  or  think  of  any  particular  sort  of  corpo- 
real substances,  as  horse,  stone,  &c.  though  the  idea  we  have 
of  either  of  them  be  but  the  complication  or  collection  of  those 
several  simple  ideas  of  sensible  qualities,  which  we  use  to  find 
united  in  the  thing  called  horse  or  stone ;  yet  because  we  can- 
not conceive  how  they  should  subsist  alone,  nor  one  in  another, 
we  suppose  them  existing  in,  and  supported  by,  some  common 
subject ;  which  support  we  denote  by  the  name  substance,  though  it 
be  certain  we  have  no  clear  or  distinct  idea  of  that  thing  we  sup- 
pose a  support. 

§  5.    AS  CLEAR  AN  IDEA  OF  SPIRIT  AS  BODY. 

The  same  happens  concerning  the  operations  of  the  mind,  viz. 
thinking,  reasoning,  fearing,  &c.  which  we,  concluding  not  to 
subsist  of  themselves,  nor  apprehending  how  they  can  belong- 
to  body,  or  be  produced  by  it,  we  are  apt  to  think  these  the 
actions  of  some  other  substance,  which  we  call  spirit :  whereby 
yet  it  is  evident,  that  having  no  other  idea  or  notion  of  matter, 
but  something  Avherein  those  many  sensible  qualities  which  affect 
our  senses,  do  subsist ;  by  supposing  a  substance,  wherein  think- 
ing, knowing,  doubting,  and  a  power  of  moving,  &c.  do  subsist, 
we  have  as  clear  a  notion  of  the  substance  of  spirit,  as  wc  have  oj 
body  .  the  one  being  supposed  to  be  (without  knowing  what  it  is) 
the  substratum  to  those  simple  ideas  we  have  from  without ;  and 
the  other  supposed  (with  a  like  ignorance  of  what  it  is)  to  be 
the  substratum  to  those  operations  we  experiment  in  ourselves 
within.  It  is  plain,  then,  that  the  idea  of  corporeal  substance  m 
matter,  is  as  remote  from  our  conceptions  and  apprehensions,  as 
that  of  spiritual  substance  or  spirit :  and  therefore,  from  our  not 
having  any  notion  of  the  substance  of  spirit,  we  can  no  more 
conclude  its  non-existence,  than  we  can,  for  the  same  reason, 
deny  the  existence  of  body;  it  being  as  rational  to  affirm  there 
is  no  body,  because  we  have  no  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  the 
substance  of  matter,  as  to  say  there  is  no  spirit,  because  we 
have  no  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  the  substance  of  a  spirit. 

§  G.    OF   THE  SORTS  OF  SUBSTANTIAS. 

Whatever,  therefore,  be  the  secret  abstract  nature  of  substance 
in  general,  all  the  ideas  r:c  have,  of  particular  distinct  sorts  of  sub- 
stances are  nothing  but   several  combinations  of  simple  ideas, 
•  sting  in  such*  though  unknown,  cau^e  of  their  union,  as 


\IHZ  OUR  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES.  [BOOK    II. 

makes  the  whole  subsist  of  itself.  It  is  by  such  combinations  of 
simple  ideas,  and  nothing  else,  that  we  represent  particular  sorts 
of  substances  to  ourselves ;  such  are  the  ideas  we  have  of  their 
several  species  in  our  minds ;  and  such  only  do  we,  by  their 
specific  names,  signify  to  others,  v.  g.  man,  horsey  sun,  ivater, 
iron :  upon  hearing  which  words,  every  one  who  understands 
the  language,  frames  in  his  mind  a  combination  of  those  several 
simple  ideas  which  he  has  usually  observed,  or  fancied  to  exist 
together  under  that  denomination  ;  all  which  he  supposes  to  rest 
in,  and  be,  as  it  were,  adherent  to,  that  unknown  common  sub- 
ject, which  inheres  not  in  any  thing  else.  Though,  in  the  mean 
time,  it  be  manifest,  and  every  one  upon  inquiry  into  his  own 
thoughts  will  find,  that  he  has  no  other  idea  of  any  substance 
v.  g.  let  it  be  gold,  horse,  iron,  man,  vitriol,  bread,  but  what  he 
has  barely  of  those  sensible  qualities  which  he  supposes  to 
inhere,  with  a  supposition  of  such  a  substratum,  as  gives,  as  it 
were,  a  support  to  those  qualities  or  simple  ideas  which  he  has 
observed  to  exist  united  together.  Thus,  the  idea  of  the  sun, 
what  is  it  but  an  aggregate  of  those  several  simple  ideas,  bright, 
hot,  roundish,  having  a  constant  regular  motion,  at  a  certain 
distance  from  us,  and  perhaps  some  other  ?  as  he  who  thinks 
and  discourses  of  the  sun,  has  been  more  or  less  accurate  in 
observing  those  sensible  qualities,  ideas,  or  properties,  which 
are  in  that  thing  which  he  calls  the  sun. 

$  7.    POWER  A  GREAT  TART  OF  OUR  COMPLEX  IDEAS  OF  SUESTASTCE. 

For  he  has  the  perfectest  idea  of  any  of  the  particular  sorts  oi 
substances,  who  has  gathered  and  put  together  most  of  those 
simple  ideas  which  do  exist  in  it,  among  which  are  to  be  reck- 
oned its  active  powers  and  passive  capacities  ;  which,  though 
not  simple  ideas,  yet  in  this  respect,  for  brevity's  sake,  may  con- 
veniently enough  be  reckoned  among  them.  Thus,  the 
power  of  drawing  iron  is  one  of  the  ideas  of  the  complex  one  of 
that  substance  we  call  a  loadstone  ;  and  a  power  to  be  so  drawn, 
is  a  part  of  the  complex  one  we  call  iron :  which  powers  pass 
for  inherent  qualities  in  those  subjects.  Because  every  sub- 
stance, being  as  apt,  by  the  powers  we  observe  in  it,  to  change 
some  sensible  qualities  in  other  subjects,  as  it  is  to  produce  in  us 
those  simple  ideas  which  we  receive  immediately  from  it,  does, 
by  those  new  sensible  qualities  introduced  into  other  subjects, 
discover  to  us  those  powers,  which  do  thereby  mediately  atTect 
our  senses,  as  regularly  as  its  sensible  qualities  do  it  immediately, 
v.  g.  we  immediately,  by  our  senses,  perceive  in  fire  its  heat 
and  colour :  which  are,  if  rightly  considered,  nothing  but 
powers  in  it  to  produce  those  ideas  in  us ;  we  also,  by 
our  senses,  perceive  the  colour  and  brittleness  of  charcoal, 
xvhereby  wc  come  by  the  knowledge  of  another  power  in 
lire,  which  it  has  to  change  the  colour  and  consistency 
^f  wood.     By    the    former    fir?    immediately,    by  the    latfer 


Rlf.   XXIII.]  OUR  ilM:.\.->   Ul'  SL  fi:->XA.\(   ;  „'7J 

it  mediately  discovers  to  us  these  several  qualities,  which  there* 
fore  we  look  upon  to  be  a  part  of  the  qualities  of  lire,  and  go 
make  them  a  part  of  the  complex  idea  of  it.  For  all  those 
powers  that  we  take  cognizance  of,  terminating  only  in  the  alte- 
ration of  some  sensible  qualities  in  those  subjects  on  which  thev 
operate,  and  so  making  them  exhibit  to  us  new  sensible  ideas  : 
therefore  it  is  that  I  have  reckoned  these  powers  among  the 
simple  ideas,  which  make  the  complex  ones  of  the  sorts  of  sub- 
stances ;  though  these  powers,  considered  in  themselves,  are 
truly  complex  ideas.  And  in  this  looser  sense  I  crave  leave  to 
be  understood,  when  I  name  any  of  these  potentialities  among 
the  simple  ideas,  which  we  recollect  in  our  minds,  when  we  think 
of  particular  substances.  For  the  powers  that  are  severally  in 
ihem  are  necessary  to  be  considered,  if  we  will  have  true  distinct 
notions  of  the  several  sorts  of  substances. 

§  8.    AND  WHY. 

Nor  are  we  to  wonder,  that  powers  make  a  great  part  of  our 
complex  ideas  of  substances  ;  since  their  secondary  qualities  are 
those,  which  in  most  of  them  serve  principally  to  distinguish 
substances  one  from  another,  and  commonly  make  a  consider- 
able part  of  the  complex  idea  of  the  several  sorts  of  them.  For 
our  senses  failing  us  in  the  discovery  of  the  bulk,  texture,  and 
figure  of  the  minute  parts  of  bodies,  on  which  their  real  consti- 
tutions and  differences  depend,  we  are  fain  to  make  use  of  their 
secondary  qualities,  as  the  characteristical  notes  and  marks 
whereby  to  frame  ideas  of  them  in  our  minds,  and  distinguish 
them  one  from  another.  All  which  secondary  qualities,  as  has 
been  shown,  are  nothing  but  bare  powers.  For  the  colour  and 
taste  of  opium  are,  as  well  as  its  soporific  or  anodyne  virtues, 
mere  powers  depending  on  its  primary  qualities,  whereby  it  is 
fitted  to  produce  different  operations  on  different  parts  of  our 
bodies. 

§  9.    THREE  SORTS  OF   II.")'. AS  MAKE  OVA  COMl'LKX  ONES  OV  SUBSTANCES- 

The  ideas  that  make  our  complex  ones  of  corporeal  substances 
are  of  these  three  sorts.  First,  the  ideas  of  the  primary  quali- 
ties of  things,  which  are  discovered  by  our  senses,  and  are  in 
them  even  when  we  perceive  them  not;  such  are  the  bulk,  figure, 
number,  situation,  and  motion  of  the  parts  of  bodies,  which  are 
really  in  them,  whether  we  take  notice  of  them  or  no.  Secondly, 
the  sensible  secondary  qualities,  which  depending  on  these,  arc 
nothing  but  the  powers  those  substances  have  to  produce  several 
ideas  in  us  by  our  senses  ;  which  ideas  are  not  in  the  things  them- 
selves, otherwise  than  as  any  thing  is  in  its  cause.  Thirdly,  the 
aptness  we  consider  in  any  substance  to  give  or  receive  such 
alterations  of  primary  qualities,  as  that  the  substance  so  altered 
should  produce  in  us  different  ideas  from  what  it  did  before  ; 
those  are  called  active  and  passive  powers ;  all  which  powers,  as 

Vol.  1\  35 


2?4  OUK  1DEA&  OF  SUBSTANCES.  [BOOK  il- 

i'ar  as  we  have  any  notice  or  notion  of  them,  terminate  only  in 
sensible  simple  ideas.  For  whatever  alteration  a  loadstone  has 
the  power  to  make,  in  the  minute  particles  of  iron,  we  should 
have  no  notion  of  any  power  it  had  at  all  to  operate  on  iron,  did 
not  its  sensible  motion  discover  it :  and  I  doubt  not  but  there  are 
a  thousand  changes,  that  bodies  we  daily  handle  have  a  power  to 
cause  in  one  another,  which  we  never  suspect,  because  they  never 
appear  in  sensible  effects. 

v>    10.    POWERS  MAKE  A  GREAT    PART     OF     OUR    COMPLEX  IDEAS  OF  SUB- 
STANCES. 

Powers  therefore  justly  make  a  great  part  of  our  complex  ideas 
of  substances.  He  that  will  examine  his  complex  idea  of  gold 
will  find  several  of  its  ideas  that  make  it  up  to  be  only  powers  : 
as  the  power  of  being  melted,  but  of  not  spending  itself  in  the 
fire  ;  of  being  dissolved  in  uqxia  regia  ;  are  ideas  as  necessary  to 
make  up  our  complex  idea  of  gold,  as  its  colour  and  weight : 
which,  if  duly  considered,  are  also  nothing  but  different  powers. 
For  to  speak  truly,  yellowness  is  not  actually  in  gold;  but  is  a 
power  in  gold  to  produce  that  idea  in  us  by  our  eyes,  when  placed 
in  a  due  light :  and  the  heat  which  we  cannot  leave  out  of  our 
ideas  of  the  sun,  is  no  more  really  in  the  sun,  than  the  white 
colour  it  introduces  into  wax.  These  are  both  equally  powers 
in  the  sun,  operating,  by  the  motion  and  figure  of  its  sensible 
parts,  so  on  a  man,  as  to  make  him  have  the  idea  of  heat ;  and 
so  on  wax,  as  to  make  it  capable  to  produce  in  a  man  the  idea 
oi  white. 

§  11.   THE  NOW  SECONDARE  <il  "ALl'i'IEs   OF  BODIES  WOULD  DISAPPEAR,  IF 
WE  COULD  DISCOVER  THE  PRIMARY  ONES  OF  THEIR  MINUTE  PARTS. 

Had  we  senses  acute  enough  to  discern  the  minute  particles  of 
bodies,  and  the  real  constitution  on  which  their  sensible  qualities 
depend,  I  doubt  not  but  they  would  produce  quite  different  ideas 
in  us ;  and  that  which  is  now  the  yellow  colour  of  gold  would 
Ihen  disappear,  and  instead  of  it  we  should  see  an  admirable 
texture  of  parts  of  a  certain  size  and  figure.  This  microscopes 
plainly  discover  to  us ;  for  what  to  our  naked  eyes  produces  a 
certain  colour,  is,  by  thus  augmenting  the  acuteness  of  our  senses, 
discovered  to  be  quite  a  different  thing  ;  and  the  thus  altering,  as 
it  were,  the  proportion  of  the  bulk  of  the  minute  parts  of  a 
coloured  object  to  our  usual  sight,  produces  different  ideas  from 
what  it  did  before.  Thus  sand  or  pounded  glass,  which  is  opaque, 
and  white  to  the  naked  eye,  is  pellucid  in  a  microscope  ;  and  a 
hair  seen  this  way  loses  its  former  colour,  and  is  in  a  great  mea- 
sure pellucid,  with  a  mixture  of  some  bright  sparkling  colours, 
such  as  appear  from  the  refraction  of  diamonds,  and  other  pel- 
lucid bodies.  Blood  to  the  naked  eye  appears  all  red ;  but 
by  a  good  microscope,  wherein  its  lesser  parts  appear,  show* 
only  some  few  globules  of  red,  swimming  in  a  pellucid  liquor  r 


H.    Will,  j  Ohil    ll>J-.\.>   OF   M    IISI'A.M   Es 

and  how  these  red  globules  would  appear,  it' glasses  could  be  found 
that  could  yet  magnify  them  a  thousand  or  ten  thousand  time< 
more,  is  uncertain. 

§   12.    OUR    FACULTIES  OF   DISCOVERY  SUITED  TO  OUR  STAT.',. 

The  infinitely  wise  contriver  of  us,  and  all  things  about  us, 
hath  fitted  our  senses,  faculties,  and  organs  to  the  conveniences 
of  life,  and  the  business  we  have  to  do  here.     We  are  able,  by 
our  senses,  to  know  and  distinguish  things :  and  to  examine  them 
so  far,  as  to  apply  them  to  our  uses,  and  several  ways  to  accom- 
modate the  exigencies  of  this  life.     We  have  insight  enough  into 
their  admirable  contrivances  and  wonderful  effects,  to  admire  and 
magnify  the  wisdom,  power;  and  goodness  of  their  author.     Such 
a  knowledge  as  this,  which  is  suited  to  our  present  condition,  we 
want  not  faculties    to    attain.      But  it  appears  not,  that  God 
intended  we  should  have  a  perfect,  clear,  and  adequate  know- 
ledge of  them  :  that  perhaps  is  not  in  the  comprehension  of  any 
finite  being.     "We  are  furnished  with  faculties,  (dull  and  weak  as 
Ihey  are)  to  discover  enough  in  the  creatures,  to  lead  us  to  th# 
knowledge  of  the  Creator, limd  the  knowledge  of  our  duty  ;  and 
we  are  fitted  well  enough  with  abilities  to  provide  for  the  conve- 
niencies  of  living :  these  are  our  business  in  this  world.     But 
were  our  senses  altered,  and  made  much  quicker  and  acuter,  the 
appearance  and  outward  scheme  of   things   would  have  quite 
another  face  to  us  ;    and,  I  am  apt  to  think,  would  be  incon- 
sistent with  our  being,  or  at  least  well-being,  in  this  part  of  the 
universe  which  we  inhabit.     lie  that  considers  how  little  our 
constitution  is  able  to  bear  a  remove  into  parts  of  this  air,  not 
much  higher  than  that  we  commonly  breathe  in.  will  have  reason 
to  be  satisfied  that  in  this  globe  of  earth  allotted  for  our  mansion, 
the  all-wise  Architect  has  suited  our  organs,  and  the  bodies  that 
are  to  affect  them,  one  to  another.     If  our  sense  of  hearing  were 
but  one  thousand  times  quicker  than  it  is,  how  would  a  perpetual 
noise  distract  us  !     And  we  should  in  the  quietest  retirement  be 
less  able  to  sleep  or  meditate,  than  in  the  middle  of  a  sea-fight. 
Nay$  if  that  most  instructive  of  our  senses,  seeing,  were  in  any 
man  a  thousand  or  an  hundred  thousand  times  more  acute  than 
it  is  by  the  best  microscope,  things  several  millions  of  times 
less  than  the  smallest  object  of  his  sight  now  would  then  be  visi- 
ble to  his  naked  eyes,  and  so  he  would  come  nearer  to  the  disco- 
very of  the  texture  and  motion  of  the  minute  parts  of  corporeal 
hings  ;  and  in  many  of  them,  probably,  get  ideas  of  their  internal 
constitutions.     But  then  he  would  be  in  a  quite  different  world 
from  other  people  ;  nothing  would  appear  the  same  to  him  and 
others  ;  the  visible  ideas  of  every  thing  would  be  different.     So 
that  1  doubt  whether  he  and  the  rest  of  men  could  discourse  con- 
cerning the  objects  of  sight,  or  have  any  communication  about 
colours,  their  appearances  being  so  wholly  different.     And  per- 
foape  Buch  a  quickness  and  tenderness  of  sight  could  not.  endure 


27U  :'H  R  IDEAS  OF  SI  RSXANCE9.  |  BOOK  II 

bright  sunshine,  or  so  much  as  open  daylight :  nor  take  in  but  a 
very  Small  part  of  any  object  at  once,  and  that  too  only  at  a  very 
near  distance.  And  if  by  the  help  of  such  microscopical  eyes 
(if  I  may  so  call  them)  a  man  could  penetrate  farther  than  ordi- 
nary into  the  secret  composition  and  radical  texture  of  bodies,  he 
would  not  make  any  great  advantage  by  the  change,  if  such  an 
acute  sight  would  not  serve  to  conduct  him  to  the  market  and 
exchange  ;  if  he  could  not  see  things  he  was  to  avoid  at  a  conve- 
nient distance,  nor  distinguish  things  he  had  to  do  with  by  those 
sensible  qualities  others  do.  He  that  was  sharp-sighted  enough 
to  see  the  configuration  of  the  minute  particles  of  the  spring  of  a 
clock,  and  observe  upon  what  peculiar  structure  and  impulse  its 
elastic  motion  depends,  would  no  doubt  discover  something  very 
admirable;  but  if  eyes  so  framed  could  not  view  at  once  the 
hand  and  the  characters  of  the  hour-plate,  and  thereby  at  a  dis- 
tance see  what  o'clock  it  was,  their  owner  could  not  be  much 
benefited  by  that  acuteness  ;  which,  whilst  it  discovered  the 
secret  contrivance  of  the  parts  of  the  machine,  made  him  lose 
ids  use. 

§  13.    CONJECTURE    ABQPT  SPIRITS^ 

And  here  give  me  leave  to  propose  an  extravagant  conjecture 
of  mine,  viz.  that  since  we  have  some  reason  (if  there  be  anv 
credit  to  be  given  to  the  report  of  things  that  our  philosophy 
cannot  account  for)  to  imagine  that  spirits  can  assume  to  them- 
selves bodies  of  different  bulk,  figure,  and  conformation  of  parts  : 
whether  one  great  advantage  some  of  them  have  over  us  may  not 
lie  in  this,  that  they  can  so  frame  and  shape  to  themselves  organs 
of  sensation  or  perception  as  to  suit  them  to  their  present  design, 
and  the  circumstances  of  the  object  they  would  consider.  For 
how  much  would  that  man  exceed  all  others  in  knowledge,  who 
had  but  the  faculty  so  to  order  the  structure  of  his  eyes,  that  one 
sense,  as  to  make  it  capable  of  all  the  several  degrees  of  vision 
which  the  assistance  of  glasses  (casually  at  first  lighted  on)  has 
taught  us  to  conceive!  What  wonders  would  he  discover,  who 
could  so  fit  his  eyes  to  all  sorts  of  objects,  as  to  sec,  when  he 
pleased,  the  figure  and  motion  of  the  minute  particles  in  the 
blood,  and  other  juices  of  animals,  as  distinctly  as  he  does,  at 
other  times,  the  shape  and  motion  of  the  animals  themselves! 
13ut  to  us,  in  our  present  state,  unalterable  organs  so  contrived  as 
to  discover  the  figure  and  motion  of  the  minute  parts  of  bodies, 
whereon  depend  those  sensible  qualities,  we  now  observe  in  them, 
would  perhaps  be  of  no  advantage.  God  has,  no  doubt,  made  them 
so  as  is  best  for  us  in  our  present  condition.  He  hath  fitted  us  for 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  bodies  that  surround  us,  and  we  have  to 
do  with  :  and  though  we  cannot,  by  the  faculties  we  have,  attain 
to  a  perfect  knowledge  of  things,  yet  they  will  serve  us  well 
enough  for  those  ends  above  mentioned,  which  are  our  great 
concernment.     1  beg  my  reader's  pardon  for  laying  before  hint 


.  II.  XXIII.  j  01  It  IDEAS  OP  SUBSTANCE* 

so  wild  a  fancy,  concerning  the  ways  of  perception  in  beings 
above  us  ;  but  how  extravagant  soever  it  be,  I  doubt  whether  we 
can  imagine  any  thing  about  the  knowledge  of  angels,  but  after 
this  manner,  some  way  or  other  in  proportion  to  what  we  find 
and  observe  in  ourselves.  And  though  we  cannot  but  allow,  that 
the  infinite  power  and  wisdom  of  God  may  frame  creatures  with  a 
thousand  other  faculties  and  ways  of  perceiving  things  without 
them  than  what  we  have,  yet  our  thoughts  can  go  no  farther  than 
our  own ;  so  impossible  it  is  for  us  to  enlarge  our  very  guesses 
beyond  the  ideas  received  from  our  own  sensation  and  reflection. 
The  supposition,  at  least,  that  angels  dosometimes  assume  bodies, 
needs  not  startle  us  ;  since  some  of  the  most  ancient  and  most 
learned  fathers  of  the  church  seemed  to  believe  that  they  had 
bodies :  and  this  is  certain,  that  their  state  and  v/ay  of  existence  - 
h  unknown  to  us. 

§  11.    C0MTLEX  IDEAS  OF   SUBSTANCES. 

But  to  return  to  the  matter  in  hand,  the  ideas  we  have  of  sub- 
stances, and  the  ways  we  come  by  them, — 1  say,   our  specific 
jdeas  of  substances  are  nothing  else  but  a  collection  of  a  certain 
j  lumber  of  simple  ideas,  considered  as  united  in  one  thing.    These 
ideas  of  substances,  though  they  are  commonly  simple  apprehen- 
sions, and  the  names  of  them  simple  terms,  yet  in  effect  are 
complex  and  compounded.    Thus  the  idea  which  an  Englishman 
>ignihes  by  the  name  swan,  is  white  colour,  long  neck,  red  beak, 
black  legs,  and  whole  feet,  and  all  these  of  a  certain  size,  with  a 
power  of  swimming  in  the  water,  and  making  a  certain  kind  of 
noise  :  and  perhaps,  to  a  man  who  has  long  observed  this  kind  of 
birds,  some  other  properties  which  all    terminate    in  sensible 
iimple  ideas,  all  united  in  one  common  subject. 

>[    15.    IDEA  OF  SPIRITUAL  SUBSTANCES  AS  CLEAR.  AS  OF  B0DILV 
SUBSTANCES. 

.  Besides  the  complex  ideas  we  have  of  material  sensible  sub- 
stances, of  which  1  have  last  spoken,  by  the  simple  ideas  we  have 
taken  from  those  operations  of  our  own  minds  which  we  experi- 
ment daily  in  ourselves,  as  thinking,  understanding,  willing, 
knowing,  and  power  of  beginning  motion, ~&c.  coexisting  in  some 
substance  ;  we  are  able  to  frame  the  complex  idea  of  an  imma- 
terial spirit.  And  thus,  by  putting  together  the  ideas  of  thinking, 
perceiving,  liberty,  and  power  of  moving  themselves  and  other 
'hings,  we  have  as  clear  a  perception  and  notion  of  immaterial 
-uhstanccs  as  we  have  of  material.  For  putting  together  the 
ideas  of  thinking  and  willing,  or  the  power  of  moving  or  quieting 
corporeal  motion,  joined  to  substance,  of  which  we  have  no 
distinct  idea,  we  have  the  idea  of  an  immaterial  spirit :  and  by 
putting  together  the  ideas  of  coherent  solid  parts,  and  a  power  of 
being  moved,  joined  with  substance,  of  which  likewise  we  have 
no  positive  idea,  we  have  the  idea  of  matter.     The  one  is  as 


278  OLR  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES.  [BOOK  Li 

clear  and  distinct  an  idea  as  the  other  :  the  idea  of  thinking,  and 
moving  a  body,  being  as  clear  and  distinct  ideas  as  the  ideas  ol 
extension,  solidity,  and  being  moved  :  for  our  idea  of  substance 
is  equally  obscure,  or  none  at  all  in  both  ;  it  is  but  a  supposed  I 
know  not  what,  to  support  those  ideas  we  call  accidents.  It  is 
for  want  of  reflection  that  we  are  apt  to  think  that  our  senses 
show  us  nothing  but  material  things  Every  act  of  sensation, 
when  duly  considered,  gives  us  an  equal  view  of  both  parts  ol 
nature,  the  corporeal  and  spiritual.  For  whilst  I  know,  by  seeing 
or  hearing,  &c.  that  there  is  some  corporeal  being  without 
me,  the  object  of  that  sensation ;  I  do  more  certainly  know,  that 
there  is  some  spiritual  being  within  me  that  sees  and  hears. 
This,  I  must  be  convinced,  cannot  be  the  action  of  bare  insensi- 
ble matter  ;  nor  ever  could  be,  without  an  immaterial  thinking 
being. 

0  16.  NO  IDEA  OF  AESTRACT  SUBSTANCE. 

By  the  complex  idea  of  extended,  figured,  coloured,  and  all 
other  sensible  qualities,  which  is  all  that  we  know  of  it,  we  are 
as  far  from  the  idea  of  the  substance  of  body  as  if  we  knew  no- 
thing at  all :  nor  after  all  the  acquaintance  and  familiarity  which 
we  imagine  we  have  with  matter,  and  the  many  qualities  men  as- 
sure themselves  they  perceive  and  know  in  bodies,  will  it  per- 
haps upon  examination  be  found,  that  they  have  any  more  or 
clearer  primary  ideas  belonging  to  body,  than  they  have  belonging 
to  immaterial  spirit. 

§   17.    THE  COHESION  OF  SOLID   PARTS  AND  IMPULSE  OF    PRIMARY    IDEAS 

OF  BODY. 

The  primary  ideas  we  have  peculiar  to  body,  as  contradistin- 
guished to  spirit,  are  the  cohesion  of  solid,  and  consequently 
separable,  parts,  and  a  power  of  communicating  motion  by  im- 
pulse. These,  1  think,  are  the  original  ideas  proper  and  pecu- 
liar to  body;  for  figure  is  but  the  consequence  of  finite  extension. 

§   13.    THINKING  AND  MOTIVITY  THE  PRIMARY  IDEAS  OF  SPIRIT. 

The  ideas  we  have  belonging  and  peculiar  to  spirit  are  think- 
ing and  will,  or  a  power  of  putting  body  into  motion  by  thought, 
and,  which  is  consequent  to  it,  liberty.  For  as  body  cannot  but 
communicate  its  motion  by  impulse  to  another  body,  which  it 
meets  with  at  rest ;  so  the  mind  can  put  bodies  into  motion,  or 
forbear  to  do  so,  as  it  pleases.  The  ideas  of  existence,  duration, 
and  mobility,  are  common  to  them  both. 

§    19.    SPIRITS  CAPABLE  OF  MOTION. 

There  is  no  reason  why  it  should  be  thought  strange,  that  I 
make  mobility  belong  to  spirit :  for  having  no  other  idea  of  mo- 
tion but  change  of  distance  with  other  beings  that  are  considered 
as  at  rest. — and  finding  that  spirits,  as  well  as  bodies,  cannot 


'.II.  XXIII. ]  ui  R  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES.  279 

operate  but  where  they  are,  andthat  spirits  do  operate  at  several 
times  in  several  places, — I  cannot  but  attribute  change  of  place 
to  all  finite  spirits  (for  of  the  infinite  spirit  I  speak  not  here/) 
For  my  soul  being  a  real  being,  as  well  as  my  body,  is  certainly 
as  capable  of  changing  distance  with  any  other  body,  or  being, 
as  body  itself;  and  so  is  capable  of  motion.  And  if  a  mathema- 
tician can  consider  a  certain  distance,  or  a  change  of  that  distance 
between  two  points,  one  may  certainly  conceive  a  distance,  and 
a  change  of  distance  between  two  spirits  ;  and  so  conceive  their 
motion,  their  approach  or  removal,  one  from  another. 

§  20. 
Every  one  tinds  in  himself,  that  his  soul  can  think,  will,  and 
*  aerate  on  his  body  in  the  place  where  that  is  ;  but  cannot  ope- 
rate on  a  body  or  in  a  place  an  hundred  miles  distant  from  it. 
^Nobody  can  imagine  that  his  soul  can  think  or  move  a  body  at 
Oxford,  whilst  he  is  at  London  :  and  cannot  but  know,  that, 
being  united  to  his  body,  it  constantly  changes  place  all  the 
whole  journey  between  Oxford  and  London,  as  the  coach  or 
horse  does  that  carries  him,  and  I  think  may  be  said  to  be  truly 
all  that  while  in  motion  5  or  if  that  will  not  be  allowed  to  afford 
us  a  clear  idea  enough  of  its  motion,  its  being  separated  from  the 
body  in  death,  1  think,  will ;  for  to  consider  it  as  going  out  of  the 
body,  or  leaving  it,  and  yet  to  have  no  idea  of  its  motion,  seems 
to  me  impossible. 

§21. 
If  it  be  said  by  any  one  that  it  cannot  change" place,  because 
it  hath  none,  for  the  spirits  are  not  in  locu,  but  tibi $  I  suppose 
that  way  of  talking  will  not  now  be  of  much  weight  to  many,  in 
an  age  that  is  not  much  disposed  to  admire  or  sutler  themselves 
to  be  deceived  by  such  unintelligible  ways  of  speaking.  But  if 
any  one  thinks  there  is  any  sense  in  that  distinction,  and  that  it 
is  applicable  to  our  present  purpose,  1  desire  him  to  put  it  into 
intelligible  English  ;  and  then  from  thence  draw  a  reason  to  show 
that  immaterial  spirits  are  not  capable  of  motion.  Indeed  mo- 
tion cannot  be  attributed  to  God  ;  not  because  he  is  an  imma- 
terial, but  because  he  is  an  infinite  spirit. 

§  22.  IDEA  OF  SOUL  AND  BODY  COMPARED. 

Let  us  compare  then  our  complex  idea  of  an  immaterial  spirit 
with  our  complex  idea  of  body,  and  see  whether  there  be  any 
more  obscurity  in  one  than  in  the  other,  and  in  which  most.  Our 
idea  of  body,  as  1  think,  is  an  extended  solid  substance,  capable 
of  communicating  motion  by  impulse:  and  our  idea  of  soul,  as 
an  immaterial  spirit,  is  of  a  substance  that  thinks,  and  has  a 
power  of  exciting  motion  in  body,  by  Milling  or  thought.  These. 
1  think,  are  our  complex  ideas  of  soul  and  body,  as  contradistin- 
guished^ :m<l  now  let  n*  examine  which  has  most  obscurity  in  if. 


ISO  OLR  IDEAS  OF  SLBSTAxNCEs.  [BOOK  11, 

and  difficulty  to  be  apprehended.  I  know  that  people,  whose 
thoughts  are  immersed  in  matter,  and  have  so  subjected  their 
minds  to  their  senses  that  they  seldom  reflect  on  any  thing  beyond 
them,  are  apt  to  say,  they  cannot  comprehend  a  thinking  thing, 
which  perhaps  is  true :  but  I  affirm,  when  they  consider  it  well, 
they  can  no  more  comprehend  an  extended  thing. 

§  23.    COHESION  OF  SOLID  PARTS    IN  BODY    AS  HARD  TO    BE    CONCEIVED 
AS  THINKING  IN  A  SOUL. 

If  any  one  say,  he  knows  not  what  it  is  thinks  in  him,  he  meajns 
he  knows  not  what  the  substance  is  of  that  thinking  thing  :  no 
more,  say  I,  knows  he  what  the  substance  is  of  that  solid  thing. 
Farther,  if  he  says  he  knows  not  how  he  thinks,  I  answer,  neither 
knows  he  how  he  is  extended  ;  how  the  solid  parts  of  body  are 
united,  or  cohere  together  to  make  extension.  For  though  the 
pressure  of  the  particles  of  air  may  account  for  the  cohesion  of 
several  parts  of  matter,  that  are  grosser  than  the  particles  of  air, 
and  have  pores  less  than  the  corpuscles  of  air, — yet  the  weight 
or  pressure  of  the  air  will  not  explain,  nor  can  be  a  cause  of  the 
coherence  of  the  particles  of  air  themselves.  And  if  the  pres- 
sure of  the  aether,  or  any  subtiler  matter  than  the  air,  may  unite, 
and  hold  fast  together  the  parts  of  a  particle  of  air,  as  well  as 
other  bodies;  yet  it  cannot  make  bonds  for  itself,  and  hold 
together  the  parts  that  make  up  every  the  least  corpuscle  of  that 
materia  subtilis.  So  that  that  hypothesis,  how  ingeniously  soever 
explained,  by  showing  that  the  parts  of  sensible  bodies  are  held 
together  by  the  pressure  of  other  external  insensible  bodies, 
reaches  not  the  parts  of  the  aether  itself;  and  by  how  much  the 
more  evident  it  proves,  that  the  parts  of  other  bodies  are  held 
together  by  the  external  pressure  of  the  aether,  and  can  have  no 
other  conceivable  cause  of  their  cohesion  and  union,  by  so  much 
the  more  it  leaves  us  in  the  dark  concerning  the  cohesion  of  the 
parts  of  the  corpuscles  of  the  aether  itself;  which  we  can  neither 
conceive  without  parts,  they  being  bodies,  and  divisible,  nor  yet 
how  their  parts  cohere,  they  wanting  that  cause  of  cohesion, 
which  is  given  of  the  cohesion  of  the  parts  of  all  other  bodies. 

§  24. 
But,  in  truth,  the  pressure  of  any  ambient  fluid,  how  great 
soever,  can  be  no  intelligible  cause  of  the  cohesion  of  the  solid 
parts  of  matter.  For  though  such  a  pressure  may  hinder  the 
avulsion  of  two  polished  superficies,  one  from  another,  in  a  line 
perpendicular  to  them,  as  in  the  experiment  of  two  polished 
marbles  ;  yet  it  can  never,  in  the  least,  hinder  the  separation  by 
a  motion,  in  a  line  parallel  to  those  surfaces ;  because  the  ambi- 
ent fluid,  having  a  full  liberty  to  succeed  in  each  point  of  space, 
deserted  by  a  lateral  motion,  resists  such  a  motion  of  bodies  so 
joined  no  more  than  it  would  resist  the  motion  of  that  body,  were 
it  on  all  sides  environed  bv  that  fluid,  and  touched  no  other  bodv; 


OH.  XXIII.]  OCR  IDEAS  OP  SUBSTANCES.  2&X 

and  therefore,  if  there  were  no  other  cause  of  cohesion,  all  parts 
of  bodies  must  be  easily  separable  by  such  a  lateral  sliding 
motion.  For  if  the  pressure  of  the  aether  be  the  adequate  cause 
of  cohesion,  wherever  that  cause  operates  not,  there  can  be  no 
cohesion.  And  since  it  cannot  operate  against  such  a  lateral 
separation  (as  has  been  shown,)  therefore  in  every  imaginary 
plane,  intersecting  any  mass  of  matter,  there  could  be  no  more 
cohesion  than  of  two  polished  surfaces,  which  will  always,  not- 
withstanding any  imaginable  pressure  of  a  fluid,  easily  slide  one 
from  another.  So  that,  perhaps,  how  clear  an  idea  soever  we 
think  we  have  of  the  extension  of  body,  which  is  nothing  but 
the  cohesion  of  solid  parts,  he  that  shall  well  consider  it  in  his 
mind  may  have  reason  to  conclude,  that  it  is  as  easy  for  him  to 
have  a  clear  idea  how  the  soul  thinks,  as  how  body  is  extended. 
For  since  body  is  no  farther  nor  otherwise  extended  than  by  the 
union  and  cohesion  of  its  solid  parts,  we  shall  very  ill  compre- 
hend the  extension  of  body,  without  understanding  wherein  con- 
sists the  union  and  cohesion  of  its  parts  ;  which  seems  to  me  as 
incomprehensible  as  the  manner  of  thinking,  and  how  it  is  per- 
formed. 

§25. 

I  allow  it  is  usual  for  most  people  to  wonder  how  any  one 
should  find  a  difficulty  in  what  they  think  they  every  day  observe. 
Do  we  not  see,  will  they  be  ready  to  say,  the  parts  of  bodies 
stick  firmly  together  ?  Is  there  any  thing  more  common  ?  And 
what  doubt  can  there  be  made  of  it  ?  And  the  like,  I  say,  con- 
cerning thinking  and  voluntary  motion:  Do  we  not  every  moment 
experiment  it  in  ourselves  ;  and  therefore  can  it  be  doubted  ? 
The  matter  of  fact  is  clear,  I  confess ;  but  when  we  would  a  little 
nearer  look  into  it,  and  consider  how  it  is  done,  there  I  think  we 
are  at  a  loss,  both  in  the  one  and  the  other  ;  and  can  as  little 
understand  how  the  parts  of  body  cohere  as  how  we  ourselves 
perceive,  or  move.  1  would  have  any  one  intelligibly  explain  to 
me  how  the  parts  of  gold,  or  brass  (that  but  now  in  fusion 
were  as  loose  from  one  another  as  the  particles  of  water,  or 
the  sands  of  an  hour-glass.)  come  in  a  few  moments  to  be  so 
united,  and  adhere  so  strongly  one  to  another,  that  the  utmost 
Jorce  of  men's  arms  cannot  separate  them  :  a  considering  man 
will,  I  suppose,  be  here  at  a  loss  to  satisfy  his  own,  or  another 
man's  understanding. 

§  26. 

The  little  bodies  that  compose  that  fluid  wc  call  water  are  so 
extremely  small,  that  I  have  never  heard  of  any  one,  who  by  a 
microscope  (and  yet  I  have  heard  of  some  that  have  magnified  to 
ten  thousand,  nay,  to  much  above  a  hundred  thousand  times)  pre- 
tended to  perceive  their  distinct  bulk,  figure,  or  motion  :  and  the 
particles  of  water  arc  also  so  perfectly  loose  one  from  another, 

vot    1  36 


262  OUR  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES.  [BOOK  II. 

that  the  least  force  sensibly  separates  them.  Nay,  if  we  consider 
their  perpetual  motion,  we  must  allow  them  to  have  no  cohesion 
one  with  another;  and  yet  let  but  a  sharp  cold  come,  they  unite, 
they  consolidate,  these  little  atoms  cohere,  and  are  not,  without 
great  force,  separable.  He  that  could  find  the  bonds  that  tie 
these  heaps  of  loose  little  bodies  together  so  firmly;  he  that  could 
make  known  the  cement  that  makes  them  stick  so  fast  one  to 
another  ;  would  discover  a  great  and  yet  unknown  secret :  and 
yet,  when  that  was  done,  would  he  be  far  enough  from  making 
the  extension  of  body,  (which  is  the  cohesion  of  its  solid  parts) 
intelligible,  till  he  could  show  wherein  consisted  the  union  or 
consolidation  of  the  parts  of  those  bonds,  or  of  that  cement,  or 
of  the  least  particle  of  matter  that  exists.  Whereby  it  appears, 
that  this  primary  and  supposed  obvious  quality  of  body,  will  be 
found,  when  examined,  to  be  as  incomprehensible  as  any  thing 
belonging  to  our  minds,  and  a  solid  extended  substance  as  hard 
to  be  conceived  as  a  thinking  immaterial  one,  whatever  diffi- 
culties some  would  raise  against  it. 

§27. 
For,  to  extend  our  thoughts  a  little  farther,  that  pressure,  which 
is  brought  to  explain  the  cohesion  of  bodies,  is  as  unintelligible 
as  the  cohesion  itself.  For  if  matter  be  considered,  as  no  doubt 
it  is,  finite,  let  any  one  send  his  contemplation  to  the  extremities 
of  the  universe,  and  there  see  what  conceivable  hoops,  what  bond 
he  can  imagine  to  hold  this  mass  of  matter  in  so  close  a  pressure 
together  ;  from  whence  steel  has  its  firmness,  and  the  parts  of  a 
diamond  their  hardness  and  indissolubility.  If  matter  be  finite, 
it  must  have  its  extremes ;  and  there  must  be  something  to  hinder 
it  from  scattering  asunder.  If,  to  avoid  this  difficulty,  any  one 
will  throw  himself  into  the  supposition  and  abyss  of  infinite  mat- 
ter, let  him  consider  what  light  he  thereby  brings  to  the  cohesion 
of  body,  and  whether  he  be  ever  the  nearer  making  it  intelligi- 
ble by  resolving  it  into  a  supposition  the  most  absurd  and  most 
incomprehensible  of  all  other:  so  far  is  our  extension  of  body, 
(which  is  nothing  but  the  cohesion  of  solid  parts)  from  being 
clearer,  or  more  distinct,  when  we  would  inquire  into  the  nature, 
cause,  or  manner  of  it,  than  the  idea  of  thinking. 

§  28.   COMMUNICATION  OF  MOTION  BY  IMPULSE,    OR   BY  THOUGHT, 
EQUALLY  INTELLIGIBLE. 

Another  idea  we  have  of  body  is  the  power  of  communication 
of  motion  by  impulse  ;  and  of  our  souls,  the  power  of  exciting 
motion  by  thought.  These  ideas,  the  one  of  body,  the  other  of 
our  minds,  every  day's  experience  clearly  furnishes  us  with  :  but 
if  here  again  we  inquire  how  this  is  done,  we  are  equally  in  the 
dark.  For  to  the  communication  of  motion  by  impulse,  wherein 
as  much  motion  is  lost  to  one  body  as  is  got  to  the  other,  which 
is  the  most  ordinary  case,  Ave  can  have  no  other  conception,  but 


CH.   XXIII. J  OIR  IDEAS  OF  StJBSTANCES  j>>.i 

of  the  passing  of  motion  out  of  one  body  into  another  ;  which,  I 
think,  is  as  obscure  and  unconceivable,  as  how  our  minds  move 
or  stop  our  bodies  by  thought:  which  we  every  moment  find  they 
do.     The  increase  of  motion  by  impulse,  which  is  observed  or 
believed  sometimes  to  happen,  is  yet  harder  to  be  understood. 
We  have  by  daily  experience  clear  evidence  of  motion  produced 
both  by  impulse  and  by  thought;  but  the  manner,  how,  hardly 
comes  within  our  comprehension  ;  we  are  equally  at  a  loss  in 
both.    So  that  however  we  consider  motion,  and  its  communica- 
tion, either  from  body  or  spirit,  the  idea  which  belongs  to  spirit  is 
at  least  as  clear  as  that  which  belongs  to  body.     And  if  we  con- 
sider the  active  power  of  moving,  or  as  I  may  call  it,  motivity, 
it  is  much  clearer  in  spirit  than  body  ;  since  two  bodies,  placed 
by  one  another  at  rest,  will  never  afford  us  the  idea  of  a  power 
in  the  one  to  move  the  other,  but  by  a  borrowed  motion  ;  whereas 
the  mind,  every  day,  affordsus  ideas  of  an  active  power  of  moving 
of  bodies  ;  and  therefore  it  is  worth  our  consideration,  whether 
active  power  be  not  the  proper  attribute  of  spirits,  and  passive 
power  of  matter.  Hence  may  be  conjectured,  that  created  spirits 
are  not  totally  separate  from  matter,  because  they  are  both  active 
and  passive.     Pure  spirit,  viz.  God  is  only  active  ;  pure  matter 
is  only  passive  ;  those  beings  that  are  both  active  and  passive,  we 
may  judge  to  partake  of  both.     But  be  that  as  it  will,  I  think 
we  have  as  many,  and  as  clear  ideas  belonging  to  spirit  as  we  have 
belonging  to  body,  the  substance  of  each  being  equally  unknown 
to  us  ;  and  the  idea  of  thinking  in  spirit  as  clear  as  of  extension 
in  body  ;  and  the  communication  of  motion  by  thought,  which 
we  attribute  to  spirit,  is  as  evident  as  that  by  impulse,  which  we 
ascribe  to  body.    Constant  experience  makes  us  sensible  of  both 
these,  though  our  narrow  understandings  can  comprehend  neither. 
For  when  the  mind  would  look  beyond  those  original  ideas  we 
have  from  sensation  or  reflection,  and  penetrate  into  their  causes, 
and  manner  of  production,  we  find  still  it  discovers  nothing  but 
its  own  short-sightedness. 

§  29. 
To  conclude — sensation  convinces  us  that  there  are  solid 
extended  substances,  and  reflection,  that  there  are  thinking  ones; 
experience  assures  us  of  the  existence  of  such  beings,  and  that 
the  one  hath  a  power  to  move  body  by  impulse,  the  other  by 
thought ;  this  we  cannot  doubt  of.  Experience,  I  say,  every 
moment  furnishes  us  with  the  clear  ideas  both  of  the  one  and  the 
other.  But  beyond  these  ideas,  as  received  from  their  proper 
sources,  our  faculties  will  not  reach.  If  we  would  inquire  farther 
into  their  nature,  causes,  and  manner,  we  perceive  not  the  nature 
of  extension  clearer  than  we  do  of  thinking.  If  we  would  explain 
them  any  farther,  one  is  as  easy  as  the  other;  and  there  is  no  more 
difficulty  to  conceive  how  a  substance  we  know  not  should  by 
thought  set  body  into  motion,  than  how  a  substance  we  know  not 


#§4  OUR  IBEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES,         j  BOOK  II . 

should  by  impulse  set  body  into  motion.  So  that  we  are  no  mov- 
able to  discover  wherein  the  ideas  belonging  to  body  consist  than 
those  belonging  to  spirit.  From  whence  it  seems  probable  to 
me,  that  the  simple  ideas  we  receive  from  sensation  and  reflection 
are  the  boundaries  of  our  thoughts  ;  beyond  which  the  mind, 
whatever  efforts  it  would  make,  is  not  able  to  advance  one  jot ; 
nor  can  it  make  any  discoveries,  when  it  would  pry  into  the  na- 
ture and  hidden  causes  of  those  ideas. 

§  30.    IDEA  OF  BODY  AND  SPIRIT  COMPARED. 

So  that,  in  short,  the  idea  we  have  of  spirit,  compared  with 
the  idea  we  have  of  body,  stands  thus :  the  substance  of  spirit  is 
unknown  to  us  ;  and  so  is  the  substance  of  body  equally  unknown 
to  us.  Two  primary  qualities  or  properties  of  body,  viz.  solid 
Coherent  parts  and  impulse,  we  have  distinct  clear  ideas' of :  so 
likewise  we  know,  and  have  distinct  clear  ideas  of  two  primary 
qualities  or  properties  of  spirit,  viz.  thinking,  and  a  power  of  ac- 
tion ;  i.  e.  a  power  of  beginning  or  stopping  several  thoughts  or 
motions.  We  have  also  the  ideas  of  several  qualities,  inherent  in 
bodies,  and  have  the  clear  distinct  ideas  of  them  ;  which  quali- 
ties are  but  the  various  modifications  of  the  extension  of  cohering- 
*olid  parts  and  their  motion.  We  have  likewise  the  ideas  of  the 
several  modes  of  thinking,  viz.  believing,  doubting,  intending, 
fearing,  hoping  ;  all  which  are  but  the  several  modes  of  thinking. 
We  have  also  the  ideas  of  willing,  and  moving  the  body  conse- 
quent to  it,  and  with  the  body  itself  too ;  for,  as  has  been  shown, 
spirit  is  capable  of  motion. 

§    31.    THE  NOTION  OF  SPIRIT  INVOLVES  NO  MORE  DIFFICULTY  IN  IT 
THAN  THAT  OF  BODY. 

Lastly,  if  this  notion  of  immaterial  spirit  may  have  peThaps 
some  difficulties  in  it  not  easy  to  be  explained,  we  have  therefore 
no  more  reason  to  deny  or  doubt  the  existence  of  such  spirits, 
than  we  have  to  deny  or  doubt  the  existence  of  body ;  because 
the  notion  of  body  is  cumbered  with  some  difficulties  very  hard, 
and  perhaps  impossible  to  be  explained  or  understood  by  us.  For 
I  would  fain  have  instanced  any  thing  in  our  notion  of  spirit  more 
perplexed,  or  nearer  a  contradiction,  than  the  very  notion  of  body 
includes  in  it :  the  divisibility  in  infinitum  of  any  finite  extension 
involving  us,  whether  we  grant  or  deny  it,  in  consequences  im- 
possible to  be  explicated  or  made  in  our  apprehensions  consis- 
tent :  consequences  that  carry  greater  difficulty,  and  more  appa- 
rent absurdity,  than  any  thing  can  follow  from  the  notion  of  an 
immaterial  knowing  substance. 

§  32.    WE  KNOW  NOTHING   BEVOND  OUR  SIMPLE  IDEAS. 

Which  we  are  not  at  all  to  wonder  at,  since  we  having  but  some 
few  superficial  ideas  of  things,  discovered  to  us  only  by  the  senses 
from  without,  or  by  the  mind,  reflecting  on  what  it  experiments 


.,11'.   XXIII.]  OUR  IDEAS  OP  SUBSTANCES,  j&jji 

m  itself  within,  have  no  knowledge  beyond  that,  much  less  of 
the  internal  constitution  and  true  nature  of  things,  being  destitute 
of  faculties  to  attain  it.  And  therefore  experimenting  and  disco- 
vering in  ourselves  knowledge,  and  the  power  of  voluntary  motion, 
as  certainly  as  we  experiment  or  discover  in  things  without  us 
the  cohesion  and  separation  of  solid  parts,  which  is  the  extension 
and  motion  of  bodies  ;  we  have  as  much  reason  to  be  satisfied 
with  our  notion  of  immaterial  spirit,  as  with  our  notion  of  body, 
and  the  existence  of  the  one  as  well  as  the  other.  For  it  being 
no  more  a  conti  idiction  that  thinking  should  exist,  separate  and 
independent  from  solidity,  than  it  is  a  contradiction  that  solidity 
should  exist  separate  and  independent  from  thinking,  they  being 
both  but  simple  ideas,  independent  one  from  another, — and 
having  as  clear  and  distinct  ideas  in  us  of  thinking  as  of  solidity, 
— 1  know  not  why  we  may  not  as  well  allow  a  thinking  thing 
without  solidity,  i.  c.  immaterial,  to  exist,  as  a  solid  thing  without 
thinking,  i.  e.  matter,  to  exist ;  especially  since  it  is  not  harder 
to  conceive  how  thinking  should  exist  without  matter,  than  how 
matter  should  think.  For  whensoever  we  would  proceed  beyond 
these  simple  ideas  we  have  from  sensation  and  reflection,  and  dive 
farther  into  the  nature  of  things,  we  fall  presently  into  darkness 
and  obscurity,  perplexedness  and  difficulties ;  and  can  discover 
nothing  farther  but  our  own  blindness  and  ignorance.  But 
whichever  of  these  complex  ideas  be  clearest,  that  of  body  or 
immaterial  spirit,  this  is  evident,  that  the  simple  ideas  that  make 
them  up  are  no  other  than  what  we  have  received  from  sensation 
or  reflection;  and  so  is  it  of  all  our  other  ideas  of  substances, 
even  of  God  himself. 

§   33.    IDEA  OF  GOD. 

For  if  we  examine  the  idea  we  have  of  the  incomprehensible 
Supreme  Being,  we  shall  find,  that  we  come  by  it  the  same  way  ; 
and  that  the  complex  ideas  we  have  both  of  God  and  separate 
spirits  are  made  up  of  the  simple  ideas  we  receive  from  reflection ; 
v.  g.  having,  from  what  we  experiment  in  ourselves,  got  the  ideas 
of  existence  and  duration  ;  of  knowledge  and  power  ;  of  plea- 
sure and  happiness ;  and  of  several  other  qualities  and  powers, 
which  it  is  better  to  have  than  to  be  without :  when  we  would 
frame  an  idea  the  most  suitable  we  can  to  the  Supreme  Beinsj, 
we  enlarge  every  one  of  these  with  our  idea  of  infinity;  and  so 
putting  them  together,  make  our  complex  idea  of  God.  For  that 
the  mind  has  such  a  power  of  enlarging  some  of  its  ideas,  received 
from  sensation  and  reflection,  has  been  already  shown. 

§34. 
If  I  find  that  I  know  some  few  things,  and  some  of  them,  or  all, 
perhaps,  imperfectly,  I  can  frame  an  idea  of  knowing  twice  as 
many;  which  I  can  double  again,  as  often  as  1  can  add  to  num- 
ber ;  and  thus  mlaree  my  idea  of  knowledge,  by  extending  its 


J&ti  OUR  IDEAS  OF  SUESTANCES.         [BOOK  II, 

comprehension  to  all  things  existing  or  possible.  The  same  also 
I  can  do  of  knowing  them  more  perfectly  ;  i.  e.  all  their  quali- 
ties, powers,  causes,  consequences,  and  relations,  &c.  till  all  be 
perfectly  known  that  is  in  them,  or  can  any  way  relate  to  them  ; 
and  thus  frame  the  idea  of  infinite  or  boundless  knowledge.  The 
same  may  also  be  done  of  power,  till  we  come  to  that  we  call 
infinite  ;  and  also  of  the  duration  of  existence,  without  beginning 
or  end  ;  and  so  frame  the  idea  of  an  eternal  being.  The  degrees 
or  extent  wherein  we  ascribe  existence,  power,  wisdom,  and  all 
other  perfections  (which  we  can  have  any  ideas  of)  to  that  sove- 
reign being  which  we  call  God,  being  all  boundless  and  infinite, 
we  frame  the  best  idea  of  him  our  minds  are  capable  of:  all  which 
is  done,  I  say,  by  enlarging  those  simple  ideas  we  have  taken  from 
the  operations  of  our  own  minds  by  reflection,  or  by  our  senses 
from  exterior  things,  to  that  vastness  to  which  infinity  can  extend 
fhem. 

§  35.    IDEA  OF  GOD. 

For  it  is  infinity,  which  joined  to  our  ideas  of  existence, 
power,  knowledge,  &c.  makes  that  complex  idea  whereby  we 
represent  to  ourselves,  the  best  we  can,  the  Supreme  Being.  For 
though  in  his  own  essence  (which  certainly  we  do  not  know,  not 
knowing  the  real  essence  of  a  pebble,  or  a  fly,  or  of  our  own 
selves)  God  be  simple  and  uncompounded  ;  yet,  I  think,  1  may 
say  we  have  no  other  idea  of  him  but  a  complex  one  of  existence, 
knowledge,  power,  happiness,  &c.  infinite  and  eternal ;  which 
are  all  distinct  ideas,  and  some  of  them,  being  relative,  are  again 
compounded  of  others  ;  all  which  being,  as  has  been  shown,  ori- 
ginally got  from  sensation  and  reflection,  go  to  make  up  the  idea 
or  notion  we  have  of  God. 

§  36.    NO  IDEA  IN  OUR  COMPLEX  ONE  OF  SPIRITS,  BUT  THOSE  GOT  FROM 
SENSATION    OR    REFLECTION. 

This  farther  is  to  be  observed,  that  there  is  no  idea  we  attribute 
to  God,  bating  infinity,  which  is  not  also  a  part  of  our.  complex 
idea  of  other  spirits.  Because,  being  capable  of  no  other  simple 
ideas,  belonging  to  any  thing  but  body,  but  those  which  by  reflec- 
tion we  receive  from  the  operation  of  our  own  minds,  we  can 
attribute  to  spirits  no  other  but  what  we  receive  from  thence  : 
and  all  the  difference  we  can  put  between  them  in  our  contem- 
plation of  spirits  is  only  in  the  several  extents  and  degrees  of 
their  knowledge,  power,  duration,  happiness,  &c.  For  that  in 
our  ideas,  as  well  of  spirits  as  of  other  things,  we  are  restrained 
to  those  we  receive  from  sensation  and  reflection,  is  evident  from 
hence,  that  in  our  ideas  of  spirits,  how  much  soever  advanced  in 
perfection  beyond  those  of  bodies,  even  to  that  of  infinite,  we 
cannot  yet  have  any  idea  of  the  manner  wherein  they  discover 
their  thoughts  one  to  another  :  though  we  must  necessarily  con- 
clude, that  separate  spirits,  which  are  beings  that  have  perfecter 


CH.   XXIII.]  OblL  IDEAS  OK  SUBSTANCI  281 

knowledge  and  greater  happiness  than  we,  must  needs  have  also 
a  perfecter  way  of  communicating  their  thoughts  than  we  have, 
who  are  fain  to  make  use  of  corporeal  signs  and  particular  sounds: 
which  are  therefore  of  most  general  use,  as  being  the  best  and 
quickest  we  are  capable  of.  But  of  immediate  communication, 
having  no  experiment  in  ourselves,  and  consequently  no  notion 
of  it  at  all,  we  have  no  k!ea  how  spirits,  which  use  not  words, 
can  with  quickness,  or  much  less  how  spirits,  that  have  no  bodies, 
can  be  masters  of  their  own  thoughts,  and  communicate  or  con- 
ceal them  at  pleasure,  though  we  cannot  but  necessarily  suppose 
they  have  such  a  power. 

§37.    RECAPITULATION.. 

And  thus  we  have  seen  what  kind  of  ideas  we  have  of  sub- 
stances of  all  kinds,  wherein  they  consist,  and  how  we  came  by 
them.     From  whence,  I  think,  it  is  very  evident, 

First,  That  all  our  ideas  of  the  several  sorts  of  substances 
are  nothing  but  collections  of  simple  ideas,  with  a  supposition  of 
something  to  which  they  belong,  and  in  which  they  subsist : 
though  of  this  supposed  something  we  have  no  clear  distinct  idea 
at  all. 

Secondly,  that  all  the  simple  ideas,  that  thus  united  in  one  com- 
mon substratum  make  up  our  complex  ideas  of  several  sorts  of 
substances,  are  no  other  but  such  as  we  have  received  from  sen- 
sation or  reflection.  So  that  even  in  those  which  we  think  we 
are  most  intimately  acquainted  with,  and  that  come  nearest  the 
comprehension  of  our  most  enlarged  conceptions,  we  cannot  go 
beyond  those  simple  ideas.  And  even  in  those  which  seem  most 
remote  from  all  we  have  to  do  with,  and  do  infinitely  surpass  any 
thing  we  can  perceive  in  ourselves  by  reflection,  or  discover  by 
sensation  in  other  things,  we  can  attain  to  nothing  but  those  sim- 
ple ideas,  which  we  originally  received  from  sensation  and  re- 
flection ;  as  is  evident  in  the  complex  ideas  we  have  of  angels, 
and  particularly  of  God  himself. 

Thirdly,  that  most  of  the  simple  ideas  that  make  up  our  com- 
plex ideas  of  substances,  when  truly  considered,  are  only  powers, 
however  we  are  apt  to  take  them  for  positive  qualities  ;  v.  g.  the 
greatest  part  of  the  ideas  that  make  our  complex  idea  of  gold  arc 
yellowness,  great  weight,  ductility,  fusibility,  and  solubility  in 
aqua  regia,  &c.  all  united  together  in  an  unknown  substratum  ; 
all  which  ideas  are  nothing  else  but  so  many  relations  to  other 
substances,  and  are  not  really  in  the  gold,  considered  barely  in 
itself,  though  they  depend  on  those  real  and  primary  qualities  of 
its  internal  constitution,  whereby  it  has  a  fitness  differently  to 
operate,  and  be  operated  on  by  several  other  substances. 


288 
CHAPTER  XXIV. 

OF  COLLECTIVE  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES- 

§   1.    ONE  IDEA. 

Besides  these  complex  ideas  of  several  single  substances,  as 
of  man,  horse,  gold,  violet,  apple,  &c.  the  mind  hath  also  com- 
plex collective  ideas  of  substances  ;  which  1  so  call,  because  such 
ideas  are  made  up  of  many  particular  substances  considered 
together,  as  united  into  one  idea,  and  which  so  joined  are  looked 
on  as  one:  v.  g.  the  idea  of  such  a  collection  of  men  as  make 
an  army,  though  consisting  of  a  great  number  of  distinct  sub- 
stances, is  as  much  one  idea  as  the  idea  of  a  man  :  and  the  great 
collective  idea  of  all  bodies  whatsoever,  signified  by  the  name 
world,  is  as  much  one  idea  as  the  idea  of  any  the  least  particle 
of  matter  in  it ;  it  sufficing  to  the  unity  of  any  idea  that  it  be 
considered  as  one  representation  or  picture,  though  made  up  of 
ever  so  many  particulars. 

§  2.    MADE  BY  THE  POWER  OF  COMPOSING  IN  THE  MIND. 

These  collective  ideas  of  substances  the  mind  makes  by  its 
power  of  composition,  and  uniting  severally  either  simple  or 
complex  ideas  into  one,  as  it  does  by  the  same  faculty  make  the 
complex  ideas  of  particular  substances,  consisting  of  an  aggre- 
gate of  divers  simple  ideas,  united  in  one  substance  ;  and  as  the 
mind,  by  putting  together  the  repeated  ideas  of  unity,  makes  the 
collective  mode,  or  complex  idea  of  any  number,  as  a  score,  or 
a  gross,  Sic.  so  by  putting  together  several  particular  substances. 
it  makes  collective  ideas  of  substances,  as  a  troop,  an  army,  a 
swarm,  a  city,  a  fleet ;  each  of  which,  every  one  finds,  that  he 
represents  to  his  own  mind  by  one  idea,  in  one  view  ;  and  so 
under  that  notion  considers  those  several  things  as  perfectly  one, 
as  one  ship,  or  one  atom.  Nor  is  it  harder  to  conceive,  how  an 
army  of  ten  thousand  men  should  make  one  idea,  than  how  a 
man  should  make  one  idea :  it  being  as  easy  to  the  mind  to 
unite  into  one  the  idea  of  a  great  number  of  men,  and  consider 
it  as  one,  as  it  is  to  unite  into  one  particular  all  the  distinct  ideas 
that  make  up  the  composition  of  a  man,  and  consider  them  all 
together  as  one. 

§3.    ALL  ARTIFICIAL  THINGS  ARE  COLLECTIVE  IDEAS. 

Among  such  kind  of  collective  ideas,  are  to  be  counted  most 
part  of  artificial  things,  at  least  such  of  them  as  are  made  up 
of  distinct  substances  :  and,  in  truth,  if  we  consider  all  these 
«olleclive  ideas  aright,  as  army,  constellation,  universe,  as  they 
are  united  into  so  many  single  ideas,  they  are  but  the  artificial 
draughts  of  trie  mind ;  bringing  things  very  remote,  and  incle 


Vll.  XXV. J  OF  RELATION.  jS!t 

pendent  on  one  another,  into  one  view,  the  better  to  contemplate 
and  discourse  of  them,  united  into  one  conception,  and  signified 
by  one  name.  For  there  are  no  things  so  remote,  nor  so  con- 
trary, which  the  mind  cannot,  by  this  art  of  composition,  bring 
into  one  idea;  as  is  visible  in  that  signified  by  the  name  universe.' 


CHAPTER  XX\ 

OF  ILLATION 
§   1.    RELATION",  WHAT. 

Besides  the  ideas,  whether  simple  or  complex,  that  the  mind 
lias  of  things,  as  they  are  in  themselves,  there  are  others  it  gets 
from  their  comparison  one  with  another.  The  understanding, 
in  the  consideration  of  any  thing,  is  not  confined  to  that  precise 
object :  it  can  cany  any  idea  as  it  were  beyond  itself,  or  at  least 
look  beyond  it,  to  see  how  it  stands  in  conformity  to  any  other. 
When  the  mind  so  considers  one  thing,  that  it  does  as  it  were 
bring  it  to  and  set  it  by  another,  and  carry  its  view  from  one  to 
the  other:  this  is,  as  the  words  import,  relation  and  respect; 
and  the  denominations  given  to  positive  things,  intimating  that 
respect,  and  serving  as  marks  to  lead  the  thoughts  beyond  th<- 
subject  itself  denominated  to  something  distinct  from  it,  are  what 
we  call  relatives ;  and  the  things,  so  brought  together,  related. 
Thus,  when  the  mind  considers  Caius  as  such  a  positive  being, 
it  takes  nothing  into  that  idea  but  what  really  exists  in  Caius  ; 
v.  g.  when  I  consider  him  as  a  man,  I  have  nothing  in  my  mind 
but  the  complex  idea  of  the  species,  man.  So  likewise,  when  I 
say  Caius  is  a  white  man,  I  have  nothing  but  the  bare  considera- 
tion of  a  man  who  hath  that  white  colour.  But  when  1  give 
Caius  the  name  husband,  1  intimate  some  other  person  ;  and 
when  1  give  him  the  name  whiter,  I  intimate  some  other  thing: 
in  both  cases  my  thought  is  led  to  something  beyond  Caius,  and. 
there  are  two  things  brought  into  consideration.  And  since  any 
idea,  whether  simple  or  complex,  may  be  the  occasion  why  the 
mind  thus  brings  two  things  together,  and  as  it  were  takes  a 
view  of  them  at  once,  though  still  considered  as  distinct ;  then- 
fore  any  of  our  ideas  may  be  the  foundation  of  relation.  As  in 
the  above-mentioned  instance,  the  contract  and  ceremony  of 
marriage  with  Scmpronia  is  the  occasion  of  the  denomination  or 
relation  of  husband  ;  and  the  colour  white  the  occasion  why  hi 
is  said  to  be  whiter  than  freestone. 


Vol.  I. 


"90  OF  RELATIO>  [BOOK  11- 

§  2.    RELATIONS  WITHOUT  CORRELATIVE  TERMS  NOT  EASILY 
PERCEIVED. 

These,  and  the  like  relations,  expressed  by  relative  terms,  that 
have  others  answering  them,  with  a  reciprocal  intimation,  as 
father  a>d  son,  bigger  and  less,  cause  and  effect,  are  very  obvious 
to  every  one,  and  every  body  at  first  sight  perceives  the  relation. 
For  father  and  son,  husband  and  wife,  and  such  other  correlative 
terms,  seem  so  nearly  to  belong  one  to  another,  and  through 
custom  do  so  readily  chime  and  answer  one  another  in  people's 
memories,  that,  upon  the  naming  of  either  of  them,  the  thoughts 
arc  presently  carried  beyond  the  thing  so  named  ;  and  nobody 
overlooks  or  doubts  of  a  relation,  where  it  is  so  plainly  inti- 
mated. But  where  languages  have  failed  to  give  correlative 
names,  there  the  relation  is  not  always  so  easily  taken  notice  of. 
Concubine  is,  no  doubt,  a  relative  name,  as  well  as  wife  ;  but  in 
languages  where  this,  and  the  like  words,  have  not  a  correlative 
term,  there  people  are  not  so  apt  to  take  them  to  be  so,  as  want- 
ing  that  evident  mark  of  relation  which  is  between  correlatives, 
which  seem  to  explain  one  another,  and  not  to  be  able  to  exist 
but  together.  Hence  it  is,  that  many  of  those  names  which, 
duly  considered,  do  include  evident  relations,  have  been  called 
external  denominations.  But  all  names,  that  are  more  than 
empty  sounds,  must  signify  some  idea,  which  is  either  in  the 
thing  to  which  the  name  is  applied ; — and  then  it  is  positive,  and 
is  looked  on  as  united  to,  and  existing  in  the  thing  to  which  the 
denomination  is  given  ; — or  else  it  arises  from  the  respect  the 
mind  finds  in  it  to  something  distinct  from  it,  with  which  it  con- 
siders it ;  and  then  it  includes  a  relation.  , 

§  3.  SOME  SEEMINGLY  ABSOLUTE  TERMS  CONTAIN  RELATIONS. 

Another  sort  of  relative  terms  there  is,  which  are  not  looked 
on  to  be  either  relative,  or  so  much  as  external  denominations  ; 
which  yet,  under  the  form  and  appearance  of  signifying  some- 
thing absolute  in  the  subject,  do  conceal  a  tacit,  though  less 
observable  relation.  Such  are  the  seemingly  positive  terms  of 
old,  great,  imperfect,  &c.  whereof  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak 
more  at  large  in  the  following  chapters. 

§  4.    RELATION  DIFFERENT  FROM  THE  THINGS  RELATED. 

This  farther  may  be  observed,  that  the  ideas  of  relation  may 
be  the  same  in  men,  who  have  far  different  ideas  of  the  things 
that  are  related,  or  that  are  thus  compared  ;  v.  g.  those  who  have 
far  different  ideas  of  a  man,  may  yet  agree  in  the  notion  of  a 
father  ;  which  is  a  notion  superinduced  to  the  substance,  or  man. 
and  refers  only  to  an  act  of  that  thing  called  man,  whereby  he- 
contributed  to  the  generation  of  one  of  his  own  kind,  let  man  be 
what  it  will. 


6H.    XXV.  J  OF  RELATION.  291 

§  o.    CHANGE  OF  RELATION  MAV  BE  WITHOUT  ANY  CHANGE  IN  THE 
SUBJECT. 

The  nature  therefore  of  relation  consists  in  the  referring  or 
comparing  two  things  one  to  another  ;  from  which  comparison 
one  or  both  comes  to  be  denominated.  And  if  either  of  those 
things  be  removed  or  cease  to  be,  the  relation  ceases,  and  the 
denomination  consequent  to  it,  though  the  other  receive  in  itself 
no  alteration  at  all ;  v.  g.  Caius,  whom  I  consider  to-day  as  a 
father,  ceases  to  be  so  to-morrow,  only  by  the  death  of  his  son, 
without  any  alteration  made  in  himself.  Nay,  barely  by  the 
mind's  changing  the  object  to  which  it  compares  any  thing,  the 
same  thing  is  capable  of  having  contrary  denominations  at  the 
same  time  :  v.  g.  Caius,  compared  to  several  persons,  may  truly 
be  said  to  be  older  and  younger,  stronger  and  weaker,  &c. 

§  6.    RELATION    ONLY    BETWIXT  TWO  THINGS. 

Whatsoever  doth  or  can  exist,  or  be  considered  as  one  thing, 
is  positive  ;  and  so  not  only  simple  ideas  and  substances,  but 
modes  also,  are  positive  beings  ;  though  the  parts  of  which  they 
consist  are  very  often  relative  one  to  another ;  but  the  whole 
together  considered  as  one  thing,  and  producing  in  us  the  com- 
plex idea  of  one  thing,  which  idea  is  in  our  minds  as  one  picture, 
though  an  aggregate  of  divers  parts,  and  under  one  name,  it  is  a 
positive  or  absolute  thing  or  idea.  Thus  a  triangle,  though  the 
parts  thereof  compared  one  to  another  be  relative,  yet  the  idea 
of  the  whole  is  a  positive  absolute  idea.  The  same  may  be 
said  of  a  family,  a  tune,  &c.  for  there  can  be  no  relation  but  be- 
twixt two  things  considered  as  two  things.  There  must  always 
be  in  relation  two  ideas,  or  things,  either  in  themselves  really 
separate,  or  considered  as  distinct,  and  then  a  ground  or  occasion 
for  their  comparison. 

§  7.  ALL  THINGS  CAPABLE  OF  RELATION. 

Concerning  relation  in  general,  these  things  may  be  considered : 
First,  that  there  is  no  one  thing,  whether  simple  idea,  sub- 
stance, mode,  or  relation,  or  name  of  either  of  them,  which  is 
not  capable  of  almost  an  infinite  number  of  considerations,  in 
reference  to  otherthings  ;  and  therefore  this  makes  no  small 
part  of  men's  thoughts  and  words  :  v.  g.  one  single  man  may 
at  once  be  concerned  in,  and  sustain  all  these  following  relations, 
and  many  more,  viz.  father,  brother,  son,  grandfather,  grand- 
son, father-in-law,  son-in-law,  husband,  friend,  enemy,  subject, 
general,  judge,  patron,  client,  professor,  European,  Englishman, 
islander,  servant,  master,  possessor,  captain,  superior,  inferior, 
bigger,  less,  older,  younger,  contemporary,  like,  unlike,  &c.  to 
an  almost  infinite  number :  he  being  capable  of  as  many  rela- 
tions as  there  can  be  occasions  of  comparing  him  to  other  things, 
in  any  manner  of  agreement,  disagreement,  or  respect  whatso- 
ever.    For.  as  I  said,  relation  is  a  way  of  comparing  or  consider 


293  OF  RfcL.Vl'IO.N.  [book  11. 

ing  two  (lungs  together,  and  giving  one  or  both  of  them  some 
appellation  from  that  comparison  :  and  sometimes  giving  even 
the  relation  itself  a  name. 

§  3.  THE  IDEAS  OF  RELATIONS  CLEARER    OFTEN  THAN  OF  THE  SUBJECTS 

RELATED. 

Secondly,  This  farther  may  be  considered  concerning  relation, 
that  though  it  be  not  contained  in  the  real  existence  of  things, 
but  something  extraneous  and  superinduced;  yet  the  ideas  which 
relative  words  stand  for,  are  often  clearer  and  more  distinct  than 
of  those  substances  to  which  they  do  belong.  The  notion  we 
have  of  a  father,  or  brother,  is  a  great  deal  clearer  and  more 
distinct  than  that  we  have  of  a  man;  or,  if  you  will,  paternity 
is  a  thing  whereof  it  is  easier  to  have  a  clear  idea  than  of  hu- 
manity :  and  I  can  much  easier  conceive  what  a  friend  is,  than 
what  God  :  because  the  knowledge  of  one  action,  or  one  simple 
idea,  is  oftentimes  sufficient  to  give  mc  the  notion  of  a  relation  ; 
but  to  the  knowing  of  any  substantial  being,  an  accurate  col- 
lection of  sundry  ideas  is  necessary.  A  man,  if  he  compares  two 
things  together,  can  hardly  be  supposed  not  to  know  what  it  is 
wherein  he  compares  them  :  so  that  when  he  compares  any 
things  together,  he  cannot  but  have  a  very  clear  idea  of  that  rela- 
tion. The  ideas  then  of  relations  are  capable  at  least  of  being 
more  perfect  and  distinct  in  our  minds,  than  those  of  substances. 
Because  it  is  commonly  hard  to  know  all  the  simple  ideas  which 
are  really  in  any  substance,  but  for  the  most  part  easy  enough  to 
know  the  simple  ideas  that  make  up  any  relation  I  think  on,  or 
have  a  name  for;  v.  g.  comparing  two  men,  in  reference  to  one 
common  parent,  it  is  very  easy  to  frame  the  ideas  of  brothers, 
without  having  yet  the  perfect  idea  of  a  man.  For  significant 
relative  words,  as  well  as  others,  standing  only  for  ideas,  and 
those  being  all  either  simple,  or  made  up  of  simple  ones,  it  suffices 
for  the  knowing  the  precise  idea  the  relative  term  stands  for,  to 
have  a  clear  conception  of  that  which  is  the  foundation  of  the 
relation  ;  which  may  be  done  without  having  a  perfect  and  clear 
idea  of  the  thing  it  is  attributed  to.  Thus  having  the  notion, 
that  one  laid  the  egg  out  of  which  the  other  was  hatched,  1  have 
a  clear  idea  of  the  relation  of  dam  and  chick,' between  the  two 
eassiowaries  in  St.  James's  Park  ;  though  perhaps  I  have  but  a 
very  obscure  and  imperfect  idea  of  those  birds  themselves. 

§9.    RELATIONS  ALE  TERMINATE  IN  SIMPLE  IDEAS. 

Thirdly,  though  there  be  a  great  number  of  considerations, 
wherein  things  may  be  compared  one  with  another,  and  so  a 
multitude  of  relations  ;  yet  they  all  terminate  in,  and  are  con- 
cerned about,  those  simple  ideas,  either  of  sensation  or  reflection  : 
which  I  think  to  be  the  whole  materials  of  all  our  knowledge. 
To  clear  this,  I  shall  show  it  in  the  most  considerable  relations 
that  we  have  ';nv  notion  of.  and  in  gome  that  seem  to  be  the  most 


cm  xxvi. j  o3P  relation.  293 

remote  from  sense  or  reflection  ;  which  yet  will  appear  to  have 
their  ideas  from  thence,  and  leave  it  past  doubt,  that  the  notions 
we  have  of  them  are  but  certain  simple  ideas,  and  so  originally 
derived  from  sense  or  reflection. 

§    10.    TERMS  LEADING  THE  MIND  BEYOND    T^E  SUBJECT  DENOMINATED, 

ARE    RELATIVE. 

Fourthly,  that  relation  being  the  considering  of  one  thing  with 
another,  which  is  extrinsical  to  it,  it  is  evident,  that  all  words 
that  necessarily  lead  the  mind  to  any  other  ideas  than  are  ^up- 
posed  really  to  exist  in  that  thing,  to  which  the  words  are  applied, 
are  relative  words  :  v.  g.  a  man  black,  merry,  thoughtful,  thirsty, 
angry,  extended  ;  these,  and  the  like,  are  all  absolute,  because 
they  neither  signify  nor  intimate  any  thing  but  what  does  or  is  sup- 
posed really  to  exist  in  the  man  thus  denominated  :  but  father, 
brother,  king,  husband,  blacker,  merrier,  &c.  are  words  which, 
together  with  the  thing  they  denominate,  imply  also  something 
else  separate  and  exterior  to  the  existence  of  that  thing. 

§11,    CONCLUSION. 

Having  laid  down  these  premises  concerning  relation  in  gene- 
ral, I  shall  now  proceed  to  show,  in  some  instances,  how  ail  the 
ideas  we  have  of  relation  are  made  up,  as  the  others  are,  only  of 
simple  ideas  ;  and  that  they  all,  how  refined  or  remote  from  sense 
soever  they  seem,  terminate  at  last  in  simple  ideas.  I  shall  begin 
with  the  most  comprehensive  relation,  wherein  all  things  that  do 
or  can  exist  are  concerned  ;  and  that  is  the  relation  of  cause  and 
effect.  The  idea  whereof,  how  derived  from  the  two  fountains 
of  all  our  knowledge,  sensation  and  reflection,  1  shall  in  the  next 
place  consider. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

OF  CAUSE  AND  EFFECT,  AND  OTHER  RELATION -. 

§'l     WHENCE  THEIR  IDEAS  GOT. 

In  the  notice  that  our  senses  take  of  the  constant  vicissitudes 
of  things,  we  cannot  but  observe,  that  several  particular,  both 
qualities  and  substances,  begin  to  exist ;  and  that  they  receive  this 
their  existence  from  the  due  application  and  operation  of  some 
other  being.  From  this  observation  we  get  our  ideas  ot  cause 
and  effect.  That  which  produces  any  simple  or  complex  idea 
we  denote  by  the  general  name  cause  ;  and  that  which  is  pro- 
duced, effect.  Thus  finding  that  in  that  substance  which  we  call 
wax  fluidity,  which  is  a  simple  idea  that  was  not  in  it  before,  is 


294  OP  RELATION.  [BOOK  II. 

constantly  produced  by  the  application  of  a  certain  degree  of 
heat ;  we  call  the  simple  idea  of  heat,  in  relation  to  fluidity  in 
wax,  the  cause  of  it,  and  fluidity  the  effect.  So  also  finding  that 
the  substance  of  wood,  which  is  a  certain  collection  of  simple 
ideas,  so  called,  by  the  application  of  fire  is  turned  into  another 
substance  called  ashes,  4  «•  another  complex  idea,  consisting  of 
a  collection  of  simple  ideas,  quite  different  from  that  complex 
idea  which  we  call  wood  ;  we  consider  fire,  in  relation  to  ashes, 
as  cause,  and  the  ashes  as  effect.  So  that  whatever  is  considered 
by  us  to  conduce  or  operate  to  the  producing  any  particular 
simple  idea,  or  collection  of  simple  ideas,  whether  substance  or 
mode,  which  did  not  before  exist ,  hath  thereby  in  our  minds  the 
relation  of  a  cause,  and  so  is  denominated  by  us. 

§  2.    CREATION,  GENERATION,  MAKING  ALTERATION. 

Having  thus,  from  what  our  senses  are  able  to  discover,  in  the 
operations  of  bodies  on  one  another,  got  the  notion  of  cause  and 
effect,  viz.  that  a  cause  is  that  which  makes  any  other  thing, 
either  simple  idea,  substance  or  mode,  begin  to  be ;  and  an  effect 
is  that  which  had  its  beginning  from  some  other  thing,  the  mind 
finds  no  great  difficulty  to  distinguish  the  several  originals  off 
things  into  two  sorts; 

First,  when  the  thing  is  wholly  made  new,  so  that  no  part 
thereof  did  ever  exist  before  ;  as  when  a  new  particle  of  matter 
doth  begin  to  exist,  in  rerum  nahira,  which  had  before  no  being, 
and  this  we  call  creation. 

Secondly,  when  a  thing  is  made  up  of  particles,  which  did  all 
of  them  before  exist,  but  that  very  thing  so  constituted  of  pre- 
existing particles,  which,  considered  all  together,  make  up  such 
a  collection  of  simple  ideas  as  had  not  any  existence  before;  as 
this  man,  this  egg,  rose,  or  cherry,  &c.  And  this,  when  referred 
to  a  substance,  produced  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  by 
internal  principle,  but  set  on  work,  and  received  from  some 
external  agent  or  cause,  and  working  by  insensible  ways,  which 
we  perceive  not,  we  call  generation :  when  the  cause  is  extrin- 
sical, and  the  effect  produced  by  a  sensible  separation,  or  juxta- 
position of  discernible  parts,  we  call  it  making ;  and  such  are 
all  artificial  things.  When  any  simple  idea  is  produced  which 
was  not  in  that  subject  before,  we  call  it  alteration.  Thus  a  man 
is  generated,  a  picture  made,  and  either  of  them  altered,  when 
any  new  sensible  quality  or  simple  idea  is  produced  in  either  of 
them,  which  was  not  there  before  ;  and  the  things  thus  made  to 
exist,  which  were  not  there  before,  are  effects  ;  and  those  things, 
which  operated  to  the  existence,  causes.  In  which,  and  all 
other  causes,  we  may  observe,  that  the  notion  of  cause  and 
effect  has  its  rise  from  ideas,  received  by  sensation  or  reflec- 
tion ;  and  that  this  relation,  how  comprehensible  soever,  ter- 
minates at  last  in  them.  For  to  have  the  idea  of  cause  and 
pffrrt.  it  suffices  to  consider  any  simple  idea,  or  substance,  as 


CA.   XXVI. J  Of  RELATION.  295 

beginning  to  exist  by  the  operation  of  some  other,  without  know- 
ing the  manner  of  that  operation. 

§  3.    RELATIONS  OF  TIME. 

Time  and  place  are  also  the  foundations  of  very  large  rela- 
tions, and  all  hnite  beings  at  least  are  concerned  in  them.  But 
having  already  shown,  in  another  place,  how  we  get  these  ideas, 
it  may  suffice  here  to  intimate,  that  most  of  the  denominations 
of  things,  received  from  time,  are  only  relations.  Thus,  when 
any  one  says,  that  queen  Elizabeth  lived  sixty  nine,  and  reigned 
forty-five  years,  these  words  import  only  the  relation  of  that 
duration  to  some  other,  and  mean  no  more  than  this,  that  the 
duration  of  her  existence  was  equal  to  sixty-nine,  and  the  dura- 
tion of  her  government  to  forty-five  annual  revolutions  of  the 
sun  ;  and  so  are  all  words,  answering,  how  long.  Again,  Wil- 
liam the '  Conqueror  invaded  England  about  the  year  ;0G6, 
which  means  this,  that  taking  the  duration  from  our  Saviour's 
time  till  now  for  one  entire  great  length  of  time,  it  shows  at 
what  distance  this  invasion  was  from  the  two  extremes  ;  and  so 
do  all  words  of  time,  answering  to  the  question,  when,  which 
show  only  the  distance  of  any  point  of  time  from  the  period  of 
a  longer  duration,  from  which  we  measure,  and  to  which  we 
thereby  consider  it  as  related. 

§4. 

There  are  yet,  besides  those,  other  words  of  time,  that  ordi- 
narily are  thought  to  stand  for  positive  ideas,  which  yet  will, 
when  considered,  be  found  to  be  relative,  such  as  are  young,  old, 
&c.  which  include  and  intimate  the  relation  any  thing  has  to  a 
certain  length  of  duration  whereof  we  have  the  idea  in  our  minds. 
Thus  having  settled  in  our  thoughts  the  idea  of  the  ordinary 
duration  of  a  man  to  be  seventy  years,  when  we  say  a  man  is 
young,  we  mean  that  his  age  is  yet  but  a  small  part  of  that  which 
usually  men  attain  to :  and  when  we  denominate  him  old,  we 
mean  that  his  duration  is  run  out  almost  to  the  end  of  that  which 
men  do  not  usually  exceed.  And  so  it  is  but  comparing  the  par- 
ticular age,  or  duration  of  this  or  that  man,  to  the  idea  of  that 
duration  which  we  have  in  our  minds,  as  ordinarily  belonging  to 
that  sort  of  animals;  which  is  plain,  in  the  application  of  these 
names  to  other  things ;  for  a  man  is  called  young  at  twenty  years, 
and  very  young  at  seven  years  old  :  but  yet  a  horse  we  call  old 
at  twenty,  and  a  dog  at  seven  years  ;  because  in  each  of  these 
we  compare  their  age  to  different  ideas  of  duration,  which  arc 
settled  in  our  minds,  as  belonging  to  these  several  sorts  of  ani- 
mals, in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature.  But  the  sun  and  stars, 
though  they  have  outlasted  several  generations  of  men,  we  <  ;tll 
not  old,  because  we  do  not  know  what  period  God  hath  •(  to 
lhat  sort  of  beings.  This  term  belonging  properly  to  thos< 
things,  which  we  can  observe  in  the  ordinary  course  "I  things,  b* 


29G  OF  RELATION.  [BOOK  II. 

a  natural  decay,  to  come  to  an  end  in  a  certain  period  of  time ; 
and  so  have  in  our  minds,  as  it  were,  a  standard  to  which  we  can 
compare  the  several  parts  of  their  duration  ;  and,  by  the  relation 
they  bear  thereunto,  call  them  young  or  old  :  which  we  cannot 
therefore  do  to  a  ruby  or  diamond,  things  whose  usual  periods 
we  know  not. 

§  5.  RELATIONS  OK  PLACE  AND  EXTENSION. 

The  relation  also  that  things  have  to  one  another  in  their 
places  and  distances,  is  very  obvious  to  observe ;  as  above,  below, 
a  mile  distant  from  Charing-cross,  in  England,  and  in  London. 
But  as  in  duration,  so  in  extension  and  bulk,  there  are  some  ideas 
that  are  relative,  which  we  signify  by  names  that  are  thought 
positive  ;  as  great  and  little  are  truly  relations.  For  here  also 
having,  by  observation,  settled  in  our  minds  the  ideas  of  the 
bigness  of  several  species  of  things  from  those  we  have  been 
most  accustomed  to,  we  make  them  as  it  were  the  standards 
whereby  to  denominate  the  bulk  of  others.  Thus  we  call  a  great 
apple,  such  a  one  as  is  bigger  than  the  ordinary  sort  of  those  we 
have  been  used  to  ;  and  a  little  horse  such  a  one  as  comes  not 
up  to  the  size  of  that  idea,  which  we  have  in  our  minds,  to  belong 
ordinarily  to  horses ;  and  that  will  be  a  great  horse  to  a  Welch- 
man  which  is  but  a  little  one  to  a  Fleming  ;  they  two  having,  from 
the  different  breed  of  their  countries,  taken  several  sized  ideas 
to  which  they  compare,  and  in  relation  to  which  they  denominate, 
their  great  and  their  little. 

§  6.  ABSOLUTE  TERMS  OFTEN  STAND  FOR  RELATIONS. 

So  likewise  weak  and  strong  are  but  relative  denominations  of 
power,  compared  to  some  ideas  we  have  at  that  time  of  greater 
or  less  power.  Thus  when  we  say  a  weak  man,  we  mean  one 
that  has  not  so  much  strength  or  power  to  move,  as  usually  men 
have,  or  usually  those  of  his  size  have  :  which  is  a  comparing  his 
strength  to  the  idea  we  have  of  the  usual  strength  of  men,  or 
men  of  such  a  size.  The  like,  when  we  say  the  creatures  are- 
all  weak  things  ;  weak,  there,  is  but  a  relative  term,  signifying 
the  disproportion  there  is  in  the  power  of  God  and  the  creatures. 
And  so  abundance  of  words,  in  ordinary  speech,  stand  only  for 
relations  (and  perhaps  the  greatest  part)  which  at  first  sight  seem 
to  have  no  such  signification  :  v.  g.  the  ship  has  necessary  stores. 
Necessary  and  stores  are  both  relative  words ;  one  having  a  rela- 
tion to  the  accomplishing  the  voyage  intended,  and  the  other  to 
future  use.  All  which  relations,  how  they  are  confined  to  and 
terminate  in  ideas  derived  from  sensation  or  reflection,  is  too 
obvious  to  need  anv  explication, 


CHAPTER  XXVJI. 

OF  IDENTITY  AND   DIVERSITY. 
§    I.    WHEREIN  IM.N'UTY  CONSIST?. 

Another  occasion  the  mind  often  lakes  of  comparing,  is  the 
very  being  of  things  ;  when  considering  any  thing  as  existing  at 
any  determined  time  and  place,  we  compare  it  with  itself  existing 
at  another  time,  and  thereon  form  the  ideas  of  identity  and  diver- 
sity. When  we  see  any  thing  to  be  in  any  place  in  any  instant 
of  time,  we  are  sure  (be  it  what  it  will)  that  it  is  that  very  thing, 
and  not  another,  which  at  that  same  time  exists  in  another  place, 
how  like  and  undistinguishable  soever  it  may  be  in  all  other 
respects  :  and  in  this  consists  identity,  when  the  ideas  it  is  attri- 
buted to  vary  not  at  all  from  what  they  were  that  moment  wherein 
we  consider  their  former  existence,  and  to  which  we  compare  the 
present.  For  we  never  finding  nor  conceiving  it  possible,  that 
two  things  of  the  same  kind  should  exist  in  the  same  place  at  the 
same  time,  we  rightly  conclude,  that  whatever  exists  any  where 
at  any  time,  excludes  all  of  the  same  kind,  and  is  there  itself 
alone.  When  therefore  we  demand,  whether  any  thing  be  the 
same  or  no,  it  refers  always  to  something  that  existed  such  a  time 
in  such  a  place,  which  it  is  certain  at  that  instant  was  the  same 
with  itself  and  no  other.  From  whence  it  follows,  that  one  thing 
cannot  have  two  beginnings  of  existence,  nor  two  things  one 
beginning ;  it  being  impossible  for  two  things  of  the  same  kind 
to  be  or  exist  in  the  same  instant,  in  the  very  same  place,  or  one 
and  the  same  thing  in  different  places.  That  therefore  that  had 
one  beginning,  is  the  same  thing;  and  that  which  had  a  different 
beginning  in  lime  and  place  from  that,  is  not  the  same,  but  diverse. 
That  which  has  made  the  difficulty  about  this  relation,  has  been 
the  little  care  and  attention  used  in  having  precise  notions  of  (lt< 
things  to  which  it  is  attributed. 

§  2.    IDENTITY    OF  SUBSTANCES. 

We  have  the  ideas  but  of  three  sorts  of  substances  :  1,  (jiod. 
2.  Finite  intelligences.  3.  Bodies.  First,  God  is  without  begin- 
ning, eternal,  unalterable,  and  every  where  ;  and  therefore  con- 
cerning his  identity  there  can  be  no  doubt.  Secondly,  finite  spi- 
rits, having  had  each  its  determinate  time  and  place  of  beginning 
to  exist,  the  relation  to  that  time  and  place  will  always  determine 
to  each  of  them  its  identity,  as  long  as  it  exists.  Thirdly,  the 
same  will  hold  of  every  particle  of  matter,  to  which  no  addition 
or  subtraction  of  matter  being  made,  it  is  the  same.  For  though 
these  three  sorts  of  substances,  as  we  term  them,  do  not  exclude 
one  another  out  of  the  same  place  :  yet  we  cannot  conceive  but 
that  they  must  necessarily  each  of  them  exclude  any  of  the  same 

Vol.  I,  58 


ii/8  OF    IDENTITY    AND    DIVERSITY.  [BOOK  1U 

kind  out  oi'  the  same  place  :  or  else  the  notions  and  names  of 
identity  and  diversity  would  be  in  vain,  and  there  could  be  no 
such  distinction  of  substances,  or  any  thing  else  one  from  another. 
For  example  :  could  two  bodies  be  in  the  same  place  at  the  same 
time,  then  those  two  parcels  of  matter  must  be  one  and  the  same, 
take  them  great  or  little  ;  nay,  all  bodies  must  be  one  and  the 
same.  For  by  the  same  reason  that  two  particles  of  matter  may 
be  in  one  place,  all  bodies  may  be  in  one  place  :  which,  when  it 
can  be  supposed,  takes  away  the  distinction  of  identity  and  diver- 
sity of  one  and  more,  and  renders  it  ridiculous.  But  it  being  a 
contradiction,  that  two  or  more  should  be  one,  identity  and 
diversity  are  relations  and  ways  of  comparing  well-founded,  and 
of  use  to  the  understanding.  All  other  things  being 
Identity  of  ^^  m0(jes  or  relations  ultimately  terminated  in  sub- 
stances, the  identity  and  diversity  of  each  particular 
existence  of  them  too  will  be  by  the  same  way  determined  :  only 
as  to  things  whose  existence  is  in  succession,  such  as  are  the 
actions  of  finite  beings,  v.  g.  motion  and  thought,  both  which 
consist  in  a  continued  train  of  succession ;  concerning  their 
diversity,  there  can  be  no  question  :  because  each  perishing  the 
moment  it  begins,  they  cannot  exist  in  different  times,  or  in  dif- 
ferent places,  as  permanent  beings  can  at  different  times  exist  in 
distant  places  ;  and  therefore  no  motion  or  thought,  considered 
as  at  different  times,  can  be  the  same,  each  part  thereof  having 
a  different  beginning  of  existence. 

§  3.    PRIJJCIPIUM     INDIVIDUATIONIS. 

From  what  has  been  said,  it  is  easy  to  discover  what  is  so  much 
inquired  after,  the  principium  individuationis ;  and  that,  it  is 
plain,  is  existence  itself,  which  determines  a  being  of  any  sort  to 
a  particular  time  and  place,  incommunicable  to  two  beings  of  the 
same  kind.  This,  though  it  seems  easier  to  conceive  in  simple 
substances  or  modes,  yet  when  reflected  on  is  not  more  difficult 
in  compound  ones,  if  care  be  taken  to  what  it  is  applied :  v.  g. 
let  us  suppose  an  atom,  i.  e.  a  continued  body  under  one  immu- 
table superficies,  existing  in  a  determined  time  and  place  :  it  is 
evident  that,  considered  in  any  instant  of  its  existence,  it  is  in 
that  instant  the  same  with  itself.  For  being  at  that  instant  what 
it  is,  and  nothing  else,  it  is  the  same,  and  so  must  continue  as  long 
as  its  existence  is  continued  ;  for  so  long  it  will  be  the  same,  and 
no  other.  In  like  manner,  if  two  or  more  atoms  be  joined  together 
into  the  same  mass,  every  one  of  those  atoms  will  be  the  same, 
by  the  foregoing  rule  ;  and  whilst  they  exist  united  together,  the 
mass,  consisting  of  the  same  atoms,  must  be  the  same  mass,  or 
the  same  body,  let  the  parts  be  ever  so  differently  jumbled.  But 
if  one  of  these  atoms  be  taken  away,  or  one  new  one  added,  it 
is  no  longer  the  same  mass,  or  the  same  body.  In  the  state  of 
living  creatures,  their  identity  depends  not  on  a  mass  of  the  same 
particles,  bul  on  something  ehe.     For  in  them  the  variation  crt 


Cfl.  XXVII.]  -OK    IDE.NTill'    AND  DIVERS IXY.  SQfl 

great  parcels  of  matter  alters  not  the  identity  :  an  oak  growing 
from  a  plant  to  a  great  tree,  and  then  lopped,  is  still  the  same 
oak  ;  and  a  colt  grown  up  to  a  horse,  sometimes  fat,  sometimes 
lean,  is  all  the  while  the  same  horse  ;  though,  in  hoth  these  cases, 
there  may  be  a  manifest  change  of  the  parts  ;  so  that  truly  the\ 
are  not  either  of  them  the  same  masses  of  matter,  though  they 
be  truly  one  of  them  the  same  oak,  and  the  other  the  same  horse. 
The  reason  whereof  is,  that  in  these  two  cases,  a  mass  of  matter, 
and  a  living  body,  identity  is  not  applied  to  the  same  thing. 

§   4.    IDENTITY    OF    VEGETABLES. 

We  must  therefore  consider  wherein  an  oak  differs  from  a  mass 
of  matter,  and  that  seems  to  me  to  be  in  this,  that  the  one  is  only' 
the  cohesion  of  particles  of  matter  any  how  united,  the  other 
.such  a  disposition  of  them  as  constitutes  the  parts  of  an  oak  ; 
and  such  an  organization  of  those  parts  as  is  fit  to  receive  and 
distribute  nourishment,  so  as  to  continue  and  frame  the  wood, 
bark,  and  leaves,  k.c.  of  an  oak,  in  which  consists  the  vegetable 
.life.  That  being  then  one  plant  which  has  such  an  organization 
of  parts  in  one  coherent  body  partaking  of  one  common  life,  ii 
continues  to  be  the  same  plant  as  long  as  it  partakes  of  the  same 
life,  though  that  life  be  communicated  to  new  particles  of  matter 
vitally  united  to  the  living  plant,  in  a  like  continued  organization 
conformable  to  that  sort  of  plants.  For  this  organization  being 
at  any  one  instant  in  any  one  collection  of  matter,  is  in  that  par- 
ticular concrete,  distinguished  from  all  other,  and  is  that  indivi- 
dual life  which  existing  constantly  from  that  moment  both  for- 
wards and  backwards,  in  the  same  continuity  of  insensibly  suc- 
ceeding parts  united  to  the  living  body  of  the  plant,  it  has  that 
identity,  which  makes  the  same  plant,  and  all  the  parts  of  it,  parts 
of  the  same  plant,  during  all  the  time  that  they  exist  united  in 
that  continued  organization,  which  is  fit  to  convey  that  common 
Jife  to  all  the  parts  so  united. 

§  5.    IDENTITY  OF   ANIMALS. 

The  case  is  not  so  much  different  in  brutes,  but  that  any  one 
may  hence  see  what  makes  an  animal,  and  continues  it  the  same. 
Something  we  have  like  this  in  machines,  and  may  serve  to  illus- 
trate it.  For  example,  what  is  a  watch  ?  It  is  plain  it  is.  nothing 
but  a  fit  organization,  or  construction  of  parts,  to  a  certain 
end,  which  when  a  sufficient  force  is  added  to  it,  it  is  capable  to 
attain.  If  we  would  suppose  this  machine  one  continued  body, 
:dl  whose  organized  parts  were  repaired,  increased,  or  diminished, 
by  a  constant  addition  or  separation  of  insensible  parts,  with  one 
commOB  life,  we  should  have  something  very  much  like  the  body 
of  an  animal  ;  with  this  difference,  that  in  an  animal  the  fitness 
of  the  organization,  and  the  motion  wherein  life  consists,  begin 
together,  the  motion  coming  from  within  ;  but  in  machines,  the 


300  Oi'    IDENTITY    AND    DiVtHSITY.  [liOOK  II. 

force  coming  sensibly  from  without,  is  often  away  when  the 
organ  is  in  order,  and  well  fitted  to  receive  it. 

§  6.    IDENTITY  OF  MAN. 

This  also  shows  wherein  the  identity  of  the  same  man  consists; 
viz.  in  nothing  but  a  participation  of  the  same  continued  life,  by 
constantly  fleeting  particles  of  matter,  in  succession  vitally  united 
to  the  same  organized  body.  He  that  shall  place  the  identity  of 
man  in  any  thing  else,  but,  like  that  of  other  animals,  in  one  fitly 
organized  body,  taken  in  any  one  instant,  and  from  thence  conti- 
nued under  one  organization  of  life  in  several  successively  fleet- 
ing particles  of  matter  united  to  it,  will  find  it  hard  to  make  an 
embryo,  one  of  years,  mad  and  sober,  the  same  man,  by  any 
supposition,  that  will  not  make  it  possible  for  Seth,  Ismael,  Socra- 
tes, Pilate,  St.  Austin,  and  Caesar  Borgia,  to  be  the  same  man* 
But  if  the  identity  of  soul  alone  makes  the  same  man,  and  there 
be  nothing  in  the  nature  of  matter  why  the  same  individual  spirit 
may  not  be  united  to  different  bodies,  it  will  be  possible  that  those 
men  living  in  distant  ages,  and  of  different  tempers,  may  have 
been  the  same  man:  which  way  of  speaking  must  be,  from  a  very 
strange  use  of  the  word  man,  applied  to  an  idea,  out  of  which 
body  and  shape  are  excluded.  And  that  way  of  speaking  would 
agree  yet  worse  with  the  notions  of  those  philosophers  who  allow 
of  transmigration,  and  are  of  opinion  that  the  souls  of  men  may, 
for  their  miscarriages,  be  detruded  into  the  bodies  of  beasts,  as 
fit  habitations,  with  organs  suited  to  the  satisfaction  of  their  brutal 
inclinations.  But  yet,  I  think,  nobody,  could  he  be  sure  that  the 
soul  of  Heliogabalus,  were  in  one  of  his  hogs,  would  yet  say 
that  hog  were  a  man  or  Heliogabalus. 

§   7.    IDENTITY  SUITED  TO  THE  IDEA. 

It  is  not  therefore  unity  of  substance  that  comprehends  all  sorts 
of  identity,  or  will  determine  it  in  every  case  :  but  to  conceive 
and  judge  of  it  aright,  we  must  consider  what  idea  the  word  it  is 
applied  to  stands  for;  it  being  one  thing  to  be  the  same  substance, 
another  the  same  man,  and  a  third  the  same  person,  if  person, 
man,  and  substance  are  three  names  standing  for  three  different 
■  ideas  ;  for  such  as  is  the  idea  belonging  to  that  name,  such  must 
be  the  identity  ;  which,  if  it  had  been  a  little  more  carefully 
attended  to,  would  possibly  have  prevented  a  great  deal  of  that 
confusion,  which  often  occurs  about  this  matter,  with  no  small 
seeming  difficulties,  especially  concerning  personal  identity,  which 
therefore  we  shall  in  the  npxt  place  a  little  consider. 

§  8.     SAME  MAN. 

An  animal  is  a  living  organized  body  ;  and  consequently  the 
same  animal,  as  we  have  observed,  is  the  same  continued  life 
communicated  to  different  particles  of  matter,  as  they  happen 
successively  to  be  united  to  thai  organized  living  bodv.     And 


CH.  XXVII.]  uP    IDENTITY    .VXD   DIVERSITY,  301 

•whatever  is  talked  of  other  definitions,  ingenious  observation 
puts  it  past  doubt,  that  the  idea  in  our  minds,  of  which  the  sound 
man  in  our  mouths  is  the  sign,  is  nothing  else  but  of  an  animal  of 
such  a  certain  form  :  since  I  think  I  may  be  confident,  that  who- 
ever should  see  a  creature  of  his  own  shape  and  make,  though  it 
had  no  more  reason  all  its  life  than  a  cat  or  a  parrot,  would  call 
him  still  a  man  ;  or  whoever  should  hear  a  cat  or  a  parrot  dis- 
course, reason,  ant  hilosophize,  would  call  or  think  it  nothing 
but  a  cat  or  a  parrot ;  and  say,  the  one  was  a  dull  irrational  man, 
and  the  other  a  very  intelligent  rational  parrot.  A  relation  we 
have  in  an  author  of  great  note  is  sufficient  to  countenance  the 
supposition  of  a  rational  parrot.     His  words  are . 

"  I  had  a  mind  to  know  from  Prince  Maurice's  own  mouth  the 
account  of  a  common,  but  much  credited  story,  that  I  heard  so 
often  from  many  others,  of  an  old  parrot  he  had  in  Brasil  during 
his  government  there,  that  spoke,  and  asked,  and  answered  com- 
mon questions  like  a  reasonable  creature  :  so  that  those  of  his 
train  there  generally  concluded  it  to  be  witchery  or  possession  : 
and  one  of  his  chaplains,  who  lived  long  afterward  in  Holland, 
would  never  from  that  time  endure  a  parrot,  but  said,  they  all 
had  a  devil  in  them.  I  had  heard  many  particulars  of  this  story, 
and  assevered  by  people  hard  to  be  discredited,  which  made  me 
ask  Prince  Maurice  what  there  was  of  it.  lie  said,  with  his 
usual  plainness  and  dryness  in  talk,  there  was  something  true,  but 
a  great  deal  false  of  what  had  been  reported.  I  desired  to  know 
of  him  what  there,  was  of  the  first  ?  He  told  me  short  and  coldly, 
that  he  had  heard  of  such  an  old  parrot  when  he  had  been  at 
Brasil ;  and  though  he  believed  nothing  of  it,  and  it  wras  a  good 
way  off,  yet  he  had  so  much  curiosity  as  to  send  for  it :  that  it 
was  a  very  great  and  a  very  old  one,  and  when  it  came  first  in  the 
room  where  the  prince  was,  with  a  great  many  Dutchmen  about 
him,  it  said  presently,  What  a  company  of  white  men  are  here  ! 
They  asked  it  what  it  thought  that  man  was  I  pointing  to  the 
prince.  It  answered,  some  general  or  other  ;  when  they  brought 
it  close  to  him,  he  asked  it,  ID'ou  venez  vous  ?  It  answered,  De 
Marinnan.  The  prince,  A  qui  estes  vous  ?  The  parrot,  A  un 
Portugais.  Prince,  Que  fais  tu  la  ?  Parrot,  Je  gardez  les  poulles. 
The  prince  laughed,  and  said,  Vous  gardez  les  poulles  ?  The 
parrot  answered,  Oui,  moi,  &  jc  scai  bicn  faire  ;  and  made  the 
chuck  four  or  five  times  that  people  use  to  make  to  chickens 
when  they  call  them.  I  set  down  the  words  of  this  worthy  dia- 
logue in  French,  just  as  Prince  Maurice  said  them  I 
asked  him  in  what  language  the  parrot  spoke,  and  he  said,  in 

Memoirs  of  what  passed  in  Christen  lom  from  1672  to  1070,]).  -^ 

t  Whenc me  ye?    It  answered,  From  Marinnan.      rh<    prince,  To  ivhoru 

do  you  belong  ?  The  pariot,  To  a  Portuguese.  Prince,  What  do  you  their  ? 
Parrot,  1  1<m,i<  after  the  chickens.     The  prince  lau    led,  and  said,  You  look  after 

■the  chickens  ?  'Pipe  parrot  ai>;\v.rr«l.  5fo?.  I.  Mil  I  lv  H)M  •■'  !1  enough  how  to 
•  to  if.. 


302  OF    IDENTITY    AND    DIVERSITY.  [BOOK  II* 

Brasilian  ;  I  asked  whether  he  understood  Brasilian  ;  he  said,  no, 
but  he  had  taken  care  to  have  two  interpreters  by  him,  the  one  a  ' 
Dutchman  that  spoke  Brasilian,  and  the  other  a  Brasilian  that 
spoke  Dutch  ;  that  he  asked  them  separately  and  privately,  and 
"both  of  them  agreed  in  telling  him  just  the  same  thing  that  the 
parrot  had  said.  I  could  not  but  tell  this  odd  story,  because  it  is 
so  much  out  of  the  way,  and  from  the  first  hand,  and  what  may 
pass  for  a  good  one;  for  I  dare  say  this  prince  at  least  believed 
himself  in  all  he  told  me,  having  ever  passed  for  a  very  honest 
and  pious  man  :  I  leave  it  to  naturalists  to  reason,  and  to  other 
men  to  believe,  as  they  please  upon  it ;  however,  it  is  not,  per- 
haps, amiss  to  relieve  or  enliven  a  busy  scene  sometimes  with 
such  digressions,  whether  to  the  purpose  ornd." 

SAME  MAN. 

I  have  taken  care  that  the  reader  should  have  the  story  at  large 
in  the  author's  own  words,  because  he  seems  to  me  not  to  have- 
thought  it  incredible  ;  for  it  cannot  be  imagined  that  so  able  a 
man  as  he,  who  had  sufficiency  enough  to  warrant  all  the  testimo- 
nies he  gives  of  himself,  should  take  so  much  pains  in  a  place 
where  it  had  nothing  to  do,  to  pin  so  close  not  only  on  a  man 
whom  he  mentions  as  his  friend,  but  on  a  prince  in  whom  he 
acknowledges  very  great  honesty  and  piety,  a  story  which  if  he 
himself  thought  incredible,  he  could  not  but  also  think  ridicu- 
lous. The  prince,  it  is  plain,  who  vouches  this  story,  and  our 
author,  who  relates  it  from  him.  both  of  them  call  this  talker  a 
parrot ;  and  1  ask  any  one  else,  who  thinks  such  a  story  fit  to  be 
told,  whether  if  this  parrot,  and  all  of  its  kind,  had  always  talked, 
as  we  have  a  prince's  word  for  it  this  one  did,  whether,  I  say, 
they  would  not  have  passed  for  a  race  of  rational  animals  :  but 
yet  whether  for  all  that  they  would  have  been  allowed  to  be  men, 
and  not  parrots  ?  For  I  presume  it  is  not  the  idea  of  a  thinking  or 
rational  being  alone  that  makes  the  idea  of  a  man  in  most  peo- 
ple's sense,  but  of  a  body,  so  and  so  shaped,  joined  to  it :  and  if 
that  be  the  idea  of  a  man,  the  same  successive  body  not  shifted 
all  at  once,  must,  as  well  as  the  same  immaterial  spirit,  go  to  the 
making  of  the  same  man. 

§  9.    PERSONAL   IDENTITY. 

This  being  premised,  to  find  wherein  personal  identity  consists, 
we  must  consider  what  person  stands  for  :  which,  1  think,  is  a 
thinking  intelligent  being,  that  has  reason  and  reflection,  and  can 
consider  itself  as  itself,  the  same  thinking  thing  in  different  times 
and  places  ;  which  it  does  only  by  that  consciousness  which  is 
inseparable  from  thinking,  and  as  it  seems  to  me  essential  to  it : 
ji  being  impossible  for  any  one  to  perceive,  without  perceiving 
that  he  does  perceive.  When  we  see,  hear,  taste,  smell,  feel,  medi- 
tate, or  will  any  thing,  we  know  that  we  do  so.  Thus  it  is  always 
as  to  our  present  ^cn^ations  and  perceptions  :  and  by  this  every 


CH.  XXVII.]  Off    IDKM'tTV     A\0    DIV'EKSWV,  !o£i.> 

one  is  to  himself  that  which  he  calls  self;  it  not  being  considered 
in  this  case  whether  the  same  self  be  continued  in  the  same  or 
divers  substances.  For  since  consciousness  always  accompanies 
thinking,  and  it  is  that  which  makes  every  one  to  be  what  he  calls 
self,  and  thereby  distinguishes  himself  from  all  other  thinking 
things  ;  in  this  alone  consists  personal  identity,  i.  e.  the  sameness 
of  a  rational  being  :  and  as  far  as  this  consciousness  can  be 
extended  backwards  to  any  past  action  or  thought,  so  far  reaches 
the  identity  of  that  person ;  it  is  the  same  self  now  it  was  then  ; 
and  it  is  by  the  same  self  with  this  present  one  that  now  reflects 
on  it,  that  that  action  was  done. 

§   10.     CONSCIOUSNESS  MAKES  PERSONAL  IDENTITY. 

But  it  is  farther  inquired,  whether  it  be  the  same  identical  sub- 
stance ?  This  few  would  think  they  had  reason  to  doubt  of,  if 
these  perceptions,  with  their  consciousness,  always  remained 
present  in  the  mind,  whereby  the  same  thinking  thing  would  be 
always  consciously  present,  and,  as  would  be  thought,  evidently 
the  same  to  itself.  But  that  which  seems  to  make  the  difficulty 
is  this,  that  this  consciousness  being  interrupted  always  by  forget- 
lulness,  there  being  no  moment  of  our  lives  wherein  we  have  the 
whole  train  of  all  our  past  actions  before  our  eyes  in  one  view, 
but  even  the  best  memories  losing  the  sight  of  one  part  whilst 
(hey  are  viewing  another; — and  we  sometimes,  and  that  the 
greatest  part  of  our  lives,  not  reflecting  on  our  past  selves,  being 
intent  on  our  present  thoughts,  and  in  sound  sleep  having  no 
thoughts  at  all,  or  at  least  none  with  that  consciousness  which 
remarks  our  waking  thoughts  ; — I  sajr,  in  all  these  cases,  our  con- 
sciousness being  interrupted,  and  we  losing  the  sight  of  our  past 
selves,  doubts  are  raised  whether  we  are  the  same  thinking  thing. 
i.  c.  the  same  substance  or  no.  Which,  however  reasonable  or 
unreasonable,  concerns  not  personal  identity  at  all :  the  question 
being,  what  makes  the  same  person,  and  not  whether  it  be  the 
same  identical  substance,  which  always  thinks  in  the  same  per- 
son ;  which  in  this  case  matters  not  at  all :  different  substances, 
by  the  same  consciousness  (where  they  do  partake  in  it,)  being 
united  into  one  person,  as  well  as  different  bodies  by  the  same 
life  are  united  into  one  animal,  whose  identity  is  preserved,  in 
that  change  of  substances,  by  the  unity  of  one  continued  life. 
For  it  being  the  same  consciousness  that  makes  a  man  be  himself 
to  himself,  personal  identity  depends  on  that  only,  wh<  h  r  it  be 
annexed  solely  to  one  individ  1  sub.sta  t<  e  or  can  be  continued 
in  a  succession  of  several  substances.  For  as  tar  as  any  intelli- 
gent being  can  repeat  ihe  idea  of  any  past  action  with  the  me 
consciousness  it  had  of  it  at  first,  and  with  the  same  consciousness 
it  has  of  any  present  action,  so  far  it  is  the  same  personal  self. 
For  it  is  by  the  consciousness  has  'its  present  thoughts  and 
actions,  that  it  is  self  to  itself  low,  i  1  so  will  be  the  same  self, 
as  far  as  the  same  consciousness  can  extend  to  actions  past  or  <o 


304  OF    IDENTITY    AND    DIVERSITY".  {JBCKXK  Hi 

come  ;  and  would  be  by  distance  of  time,  or  change  of  substance, 
no  more  two  persons,  than  a  man  be  two  men  by  wearing  other 
clothes  to-day  than  he  did  yesterday,  with  a  long  or  a  short  sleep 
between  :  the  same  consciousness  uniting  those  distant  actions 
into  the  same  person,  whatever  substances  contributed  to  their 
production. 

§11.    PERSONAL  IDENTITY  IN  CHANGE  OF  SUBSTANCES. 

That  this  is  so,  we  have  some  kind  of  evidence  in  our  very 
"bodies,  all  whose  particles,  whilst  vitally  united  to  this  same 
thinking  conscious  self,  so  that  we  feel  when  they  are  touched, 
and  are  affected  by,  and  conscious  of  good  or  harm  that  happens 
to  them,  are  a  part  of  ourselves,  i.  e.  of  our  thinking  conscious 
self.  Thus  the  limbs  of  his  body  are  to  every  one  a  part  of 
himself:  he  sympathizes  and  is  concerned  for  them.  Cut  off  a 
hand,  and  thereby  separate  it  from  that  consciousness  he  had  of 
its  heat,  cold,  and  other  affections,  and  it  is  then  no  longer  a  part 
of  that  which  is  himself,  any  more  than  the  remotest  part  of 
matter.  Thus  we  see  the  substance,  whereof  personal  self  con- 
sisted at  one  time,  may  be  varied  at  another,  without  the  change 
of  personal  identity ;  there  being  no  question  about  the  same 
person,  though  the  limbs,  which  but  now  were  a  part  of  it,  be 
cut  off. 

§  12. 
But  the  question  is,  "  Whether  if  the  same  substance  which 
thinks  be  changed,  it  can  be  the  same  person  ;  or,  remaining  the 
same,  it  can  be  different  persons  ?" 

WHETHER  IN  THE  CHANGE  OF  THINKING  SUBSTANCES. 

And  to  this  I  answer,  first,  This  can  be  no  question  at  all  tot 
those  who  place  thought  in  a  purely  material  animal  constitu- 
tion, void  of  an  immaterial  substance.  For  whether  their  sup- 
position be  true  or  no,  it  is  plain  they  conceive  personal  identity 
preserved  in  something  else  than  identity  of  substance  ;  as  ani- 
mal identity  is  preserved  in  identity  of  life,  and  not  of  substance. 
And  therefore  those  who  place  thinking  in  an  immaterial  sub- 
stance only,  before  they  can  come  to  deal  with  these  men,  must 
show  why  personal  identity  cannot  be  preserved  in  the  change 
of  immaterial  substances,  or  variety  of  particular  immaterial 
substances,  as  well  as  animal  identity  is  preserved  in  the  change 
of  material  substances,  or  variety  of  particular  bodies  :  unless 
they  will  say,  it  is  one  immaterial  spirit  that  makes  the  same 
life  in  brutes,  as  it  is  one  immaterial  spirit  that  makes  the  same 
person  in  men  ;  which  the  Cartesians  at  least  will  not  admit,  for 
fear  of  making  brutes  thinking  things  too. 


OH.  XXVII. J  OK  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  005 

§  13. 

But  next,  as  to  the  first  part  of  the  question,  "Whether  if  the. 
same  thinking  substance  (supposing  immaterial  substances  only 
to  think)  be  changed,  it  can  be  the  same  person  ?"  I  answer, 
that  cannot  be  resolved,  but  by  those  who  know  what  kind  of 
substances  they  are  that  do  think,  and  whether  the  conscious- 
ness of  past  actions  can  be  transferred  from  one  thinking  sub- 
stance to  another.  1  grant,  were  the  same  consciousness  the 
same  individual  action,  it  could  not ;  but  it  being  a  present  repres- 
entation of  a  past  action,  why  it  may  not  be  possible  that  that 
may  be  represented  to  the  mind  to  have  been,  which  really  never 
was,  will  remain  to  be  shown.  And  therefore  how  far  the  con- 
sciousness of  past  actions  is  annexed  to  any  individual  agent,  so 
that  another  cannot  possibly  have  it,  will  be  hard  for  us  to 
determine,  till  we  know  what  kind  of  action  it  is  that  cannot  be 
done  without  a  reflex  act  of  perception  accompanying  it,  and 
how  performed  by  thinking  substances,  who  cannot  think  without 
being  conscious  of  it.  But  that  which  we  call  the  same  con- 
sciousness, not  being  the  same  individual  act,  why  one  intellec- 
tual substance  may  not  have  represented  to  it,  as  done  by  itself. 
what  it  never  did,  and  was  perhaps  done  by  some  other  agent ^ 
why,  I  say,  such  a  representation  may  not  possibly  be  without 
reality  of  matter  of  fact,  as  well  as  several  representations  in 
dreams  are,  which  yet  whilst  dreaming  we  take  for  true,  will  bo 
difficult  to  conclude  from  the  nature  of  things.  And  that  it  never 
is  so,  will  by  us,  till  we  have  clearer  views  of  the  nature  of  think- 
ing substances,  be  best  resolved  into  the  goodness  of  God,  who, 
as  far  as  the  happiness  or  misery  of  any  of  his  sensible  creatures 
is  concerned  in  it,  will  not  by  a  fatal  error  of  theirs  transfer  from 
one  to  another  that  consciousness  which  draws  reward  or  pun- 
ishment with  it.  How  far  this  may  be  an  argument  against  those 
who  would  place  thinking  in  a  system  of  fleeting  animal  spirits,  I 
leave  to  be  considered.  But  yet,  to  return  to  the  question  before 
us,  it  must  be  allowed,  that  if  the  same  consciousness  (which,  as 
has  been  shown,  is  quite  a  dilFerent  thing  from  the  same  numeri- 
cal figure  or  motion  in  body)  can  be  transferred  from  one  thinking 
substance  to  another,  it  will  be  possible  that  two  thinking  sub- 
stances may  make  but  one  person.  For  the  same  consciousness 
being  preserved,  whether  in  the  same  or  different  substances, 
the  personal  identity  is  preserved. 

,   §  If 

As  to  the  second  part  of  the  question,  ••  whether  the  same 
immaterial  substance  remaining,  there  riiay  be  two  distinct  per 
sons  V  which  question  seems  to  me  to  be  built  on  this,  whether 
the  same  immaterial  being,  being  conscious  of  the  action  of  its 
past  duration,  may  be  wholly  stripped  of  all  the  consciousness  of 
its  past  existence,  and  lose  it  beyond  the  power  of  ever  retrieving 
&gain;  and  so  as  i<  Were  beginning  a  new  account  from  a  new 

Voi  .  I  39 


30G  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  [BOOK  H', 

period,  have  a  consciousness  that  cannot  reach  heyond  this  new 
state.  All  those  who  hold  pre-existence  are  evidently  of  this 
mind,  since  they  allow  the  soul  to  have  no  remaining  conscious- 
ness of  what  it  did  in  that  pre-existing  state,  either  wholly  sepa- 
rate from  body,  or  informing  any  other  body  ;  and  if  (hey  should 
not,  it  is  plain  experience  would  be  against  them.  So  that«per- 
sonal  identity  reaching  no  farther  than  consciousness  reaches, 
a  pre-existent  spirit  not  having  continued  so  many  ages  in  a  state 
of  silence,  must  needs  make  different  persons.  Suppose  a  Chris- 
tian Platonist  or  Pythagorean  should,  upon  God's  having  ended 
all  his  works  of  creation  the  seventh  day,  think  his  soul  hath 
existed  ever  since  ;  and  would  imagine  it  has  revolved  in  seve- 
ral human  bodies,  as  1  once  met  with  one  who  was  persuaded 
his  had  been  the  soul  of  Socrates,  (how  reasonably  I  will  not 
dispute ;  this  I  know,  that  in  the  post  he  filled,  which  was  no 
inconsiderable  one,  he  passed  for  a  very  rational  man,  and  the 
press  has  shown  that  he  wanted  not  parts  or  learning  ;)  would 
any  one  say,  that  he  being  not  conscious  of  any  of  Socrates's 
actions  or  thoughts,  could  be  the  same  person  with  Socrates  ? 
Let  any  one  reflect  upon  himself,  and  conclude  that  he  has  in 
himself  an  immaterial  spirit,  which  is  that  which  thinks  in  him, 
and  in  the  constant  change  of  his  body  keeps  him  the  same ; 
and  is  that  which  he  calls  himself:  let  him  also  suppose  it  to  be 
the  same  soul  that  was  in  Nestor  or  Thersites,  at  the  siege  of 
Troy  (for  souls  being,  as  far  as  we  know  any  thing  of  them  in 
their  nature,  indifferent  to  any  parcel  of  matter,  the  supposition 
has  no  apparent  absurdity  in  it)  which  it  may  have  been,  as  well 
as  it  is  now  the  soul  of  any  other  man  :  but  he  now  having  no 
consciousness  of  any  of  the  actions  either  of  Nestor  or  Thersites, 
does  or  can  he  conceive  himself  the  same  person  with  either  of 
them  ?  Can  he  be  concerned  in  either  of"  their  actions?  attri- 
bute them  to  himself,  or  think  them  his  own  more  than  the 
actions  of  any  other  men  that  ever  existed  ?  So  that  this  con- 
sciousness not  reaching  to  any  of  the  actions  of  either  of  those 
men,  he  is  no  more  one  self  with  either  of  them,  than  if  the 
soul  or  immaterial  spirit  that  now  informs  him  had  been  created, 
and  began  to  exist,  when  it  began  to  inform  his  present  body  ; 
though  it  were  ever  so  true,  that  the  same  spirit  that  informed 
Nestor's  or  Thersites's  body,  were  numerically  the  same  that 
now  informs  his.  For  this  would  no  more  make  him  the  same 
person  with  Nestor,  than  if  some  of  the  particles  of  matter  that 
were  once  a  part  of  Nestor,  were  now  a  part  of  this  man ;  the 
same  immaterial  substance,  without  the  same  consciousness,  no 
more  making  the  same  person  by  being  united  to  any  body,  than 
the  same  particle  of  matter,  without  consciousness  united  to  any 
body,  makes  the  same  person.  But  let  him  once  find  himself 
conscious  of  any  of  the  actions  of  Nestor,  he  then  finds  himself 
the  same  person  with  Nestor. 


Qfl.   XXVII.]  OP  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  3Q7 

§  15. 

And  thus  we  may  be  able,  without  any  difficulty,  to  conceive 
the  same  person  at  the  resurrection,  though  in  a  body  not  exactly 
in  make  or  parts  the  same  which  he  had  here,  the  same  con- 
sciousness going  along  with  the  soul  that  inhabits  it.  But  yet 
the  soul  alone,  in  the  change  of  bodies,  would  scarce  to  any  one 
but  to  him  that  makes  the  soul  the  man,  be  enough  to  make  the 
same  man.  For  should  the  soul  of  a  prince,  carrying  with  it 
the  consciousness  of  the  prince's  past  life,  enter  and  inform  the 
body  of  a  cobbler,  as  soon  as  deserted  by  his  own  soul,  every  one 
sees  he  would  be  the  same  person  with  the  prince,  accountable 
only  for  the  prince's  actions  ;  but  who  would  say  it  was  the  same 
man  ?  The  body,  too,  goes  to  the  making  the  man,  and  would,  I 
guess,  to  every  body  determine  the  man  in  this  case ;  wherein 
the  soul  with  all  its  princely  thoughts  about  it,  would  not  make 
another  man  :  but  he  would  be  the  same  cobbler  to  every  one 
besides  himself.  I  know  that,  in  the  ordinary  way  of  speaking, 
the  same  person  and  the  same  man,  stand  for  one  and  the  same 
thing.  And  indeed  every  one  will  always  have  a  liberty  to  speak 
as  he  pleases,  and  to  apply  what  articulate  sounds  to  what  ideas 
he  thinks  fit,  and  change  them  as  often  as  he  pleases.  But  yet 
when  we  will  inquire  what  makes  the  same  spirit,  man,  or  person, 
we  must  fix  the  ideas  of  spirit,  man,  or  person  in  our  minds ; 
and  having  resolved  with  ourselves,  what  we  mean  by  them,  it 
will  not  be  hard  to  determine  in  either  of  them,  or  the  like, 
when  it  is  the  same,  and  when  not. 

§   1G.    CONSCIOUSNESS  MAKES  THE  SAME  PERSON. 

But  though  the  same  immaterial  substance  or  soul  does  not 
alone,  wherever  it  be,  and  in  whatsoever  state,  make  the  same 
man  ;  yet  it  is  plain  consciousness,  as  far  as  ever  it  can  be  ex- 
tended, should  it  be  to  ages  past,  unites  existences  and  actions, 
Very  remote  in  time,  into  the  same  person,  as  well  as  it  does  the 
existences  and  actions  of  the  immediately  preceding  moment; 
so  that  whatever  has  the  consciousness  of  present  and  past 
actions,  is  the  same  person  to  whom  they  both  belong.  Had  I  the 
same  consciousness  that  I  saw  the  ark  and  Noah's  flood,  as  that  I 
saw  an  overflowing  of  the  Thames  last  winter,  or  as  that  I  write 
now  ;  1  could  no  more  doubt  that  I  who  write  this  now,  that  saw 
the  Thames  overflowed  last  winter,  and  that  viewed  the  flood  at 
the  general  deluge,  was  the  same  self,  place  that  self  in  what 
substance  you  please,  than  that  I  who  write  this  am  the  same 
myself  now  whilst  I  write  (whether  I  consist  of  all  the  same 
substance,  material  or  immaterial,  or  no)  that  I  was  yesterday. 
For  as  to  this  point  of  being  the  same  self,  it  matters  not  whether 
this  present  self  be  made  up  of  the  same  or  other  substances ;  I 
bring  as  much  concerned,  and  as  justly  accountable  for  any 
aclion  that  was  done  a  thousand  years  since,  appropriated  to  me 
now  by  this  self-consciousness,  as  I  am  for  what  I  did  the  last 
moment. 


?)06  OF  ^ENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  [BOOK  II. 

4   17.    SELF  DEPENDS  ON  CONSCIOUSNESS. 

Self  is  that  conscious  thinking  thing  (whatever  substance  made 
up  of,  whether  spiritual  or  material,  simple  or  compounded,  it 
matters  not)  which  is  sensible,  or  conscious  of  pleasure  and  pain, 
capable  of  happiness  or  misery,  and  so  is  concerned  for  itself,  as 
far  as  that  consciousness  extends.  Thus  every  one  finds,  that 
whilst  comprehended  under  that  consciousness,  the  little  finger 
is  as  much  a  part  of  himself,  as  what  is  most  so.  Upon  separation 
of  this  little  finger,  should  this  consciousness  go  along  with  the 
little  finger,  and  leave  the  rest  of  the  body,  it  is  evident  the  little 
finger  would  be  the  person,  the  same  person ;  and  self  then 
Avould  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  rest  of  the  body.  As  in  this 
case  it  is  the  consciousness  that  goes  along  with  the  substance, 
when  one  part  is  separate  from  another,  which  makes  the  same 
person,  and  constitutes  this  inseparable  self;  so  it  is  in  reference 
to  substances  remote  in  time.  That  with  which  the  conscious- 
ness of  this  present  thinking  thing  can  join  itself,  makes  the  same 
person,  and  is  one  self  with  it,  and  with  nothing  else  ;  and  so 
attributes  to  itself,  and  owns  all  the  actions  of  that  thing  as  its 
own,  as  far  as  that  consciousness  reaches,  and  no  farther ;  as 
every  one  who  reflects  will  perceive. 

§18.    OBJECTS  OF  REWARD  AND  PUNISHMENT. 

In  this  personal  identity  is  founded  all  the  right  and  justice  of 
reward  and  punishment ;  happiness  and  misery  being  that  for 
"which  every  one  is  concerned  for  himself,  and  not  mattering  what 
becomes  of  any  substance  not  joined  to,  or  affected  with,  that 
consciousness.  For  as  it  is  evident  in  the  instance  I  gave  but 
now,  if  the  consciousness  went  along  with  the  little  finger  when 
it  was  cut  off,  that  would  be  the  same  self  which  was  concerned 
for  the  whole  body  yesterday,  as  making  part  of  itself,  whose 
actions  then  it  cannot  but  admit  as  its  own  now.  Though  if  the 
same  body  should  still  live,  and  immediately,  from  the  separation 
of  the  little  finger,  have  its  own  peculiar  consciousness,  whereof 
the  little  finger  knew  nothing  ;  it  would  not  at  all  be  concerned 
for  it,  as  a  part  of  itself,  or  could  own  any  of  its  actions,,  or  have 
any  of  them  imputed  to  him. 

§  10. 
This  may  show  us  wherein  personal  identity  consists  ;  not  in 
the  identity  of  substance,  but,  as  I  have  said,  in  the  identity  of 
consciousness ;  wherein,  if  Socrates  and  the  present  mayor  of 
Queenborough  agree,  they  are  the  same  person  :  if  the  same 
Socrates  waking  and  sleeping  do  not  partake  of  the  same  con- 
sciousness, Socrates  waking  and  sleeping  is  not  the  same  person. 
And  to  punish  Socrates  waking  for  what  sleeping  Socrates 
thought,  and  waking  Socrates  was  never  conscious  of,  would  be 
no  more  of  right,  than  to  punish  one  twin  for  what  his  brother 
twin  did.  whereof  he  knew  nothing,  because  their  outsides  weix 


CH.   XXVII.*]  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DlVEFtSlTl.  JCliJ 

so  like  that  they  could  not  be  distinguished;  for  such  twins  have 
been  seen. 

§20. 

But  yet  possibly  it  will  still  be  objected,  suppose  I  wholly  lose 
the  memory  of  some  parts  of  my  life  beyond  a  possibility  of 
retrieving  them,  so  that  perhaps  1  shall  never  be  conscious  of 
them  again;  yet  am  I  not  the  same  person  that  did  those  actions, 
had  those  thoughts  that  I  once  was  conscious  of,  though  I  have 
now  forgot  them  1  To  which  I  answer,  that  we  must  here  take 
notice  what  the  word  I  is  applied  to ;  which,  in  this  case,  is  the 
man  only.  And  the  same  man  being  presumed  to  be  the  same 
person,  I  is  easily  here  supposed  to  stand  also  for  the  same  per- 
son. But  if  it  be  possible  for  the  same  man  to  have  distinct 
incommunicable  consciousness  at  different  times,  it  is  past  doubt 
the  same  man  would  at  different  times  make  different  persons  ; 
which,  we  see,  is  the  sense  of  mankind  in  the  solemnest  decla- 
ration of  their  opinions  ;  human  laws  not  punishing  the  mad  man 
for  the  sober  man's  actions,  nor  the  sober  man  for  what  the  mad 
man  did,  thereby  making  them  two  persons :  which  is  somewhat 
explained  by  our  way  of  speaking  in  English,  when  we  say 
such  a  one  is  not  himself,  or  is  beside  himself;  in  which  phrases, 
it  is  insinuated  as  if  those  who  now,  or  at  least  first  used  them, 
thought  that  self  was  changed,  the  self-same  person  was  no 
longer  in  that  man. 

§  21.    DIFFERENCE  BETWEEN  IDENTITY  OF  MAN  AND  PERSON. 

But  yet  it  is  hard  to  conceive  that  Socrates,  the  same  indi- 
vidual man,  should  be  two  persons.  To  help  us  a  little  in  this, 
we  must  consider  what  is  meant  by  Socrates  or  the  same  indivi- 
dual man. 

First,  it  must  be  either  the  same  individual,  immaterial,  think- 
ing substance  ;  in  short,  the  same  numerical  soul,  and  nothing 
else. 

Secondly,  or  the  same  animal,  without  any  regard  to  an  imma- 
terial soul. 

Thirdly,  or  the  same  immaterial  spirit  united  to  the  same 
animal. 

Now  take  which  of  these  suppositions  you  please,  it  is  impos- 
sible to  make,  personal  identity  to  consist  in  any  thing  but  con- 
sciousness, or  reach  any  farther  than  that  does. 

For  by  the  first  of  them,  it  must  be  allowed  possible  that  a 
man  bom  of  different  women,  and  in  distant  times,  may  be  the 
same  man.  A  way  of  speaking,  which,  whoever  admits,  must 
allow  it  possible  for  the  same  man  to  be  two  distinct  persons  as 
any  two  that  have  lived  in  different  ages,  without  the  knowledge 
of  one  another's  thoughts. 

By  the  second  and  third,  Socrates  in  this  life,  and  after  it,  can- 
not be  the  ?ame  man  anv  way  but  by  the  same  consciousness  - 


dlO  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY,  [BOOK  II. 

and  so  making  human  identity  to  consist  in  the  same  thing 
wherein  we  place  personal  identity,  there  will  be  no  difficulty  to 
allow  the  same  man  to  be  the  same  person.  But  then  they  who 
place  human  identity  in  consciousness  only,  and  not  in  something 
else,  must  consider  how  they  will  make  the  infant  Socrates  the 
same  man  with  Socrates  after  the  resurrection.  But  whatsoever 
to  some  men  makes  a  man,  and  consequently  the  same  individual 
man,  wherein  perhaps  few  are  agreed,  personal  identity  can  by 
us  be  placed  in  nothing  but  consciousness,  (which  is  that  alone 
which  makes  what  we  call  self)  without  involving  us  in  great 
absurdities. 

§22. 

But  is  not  a  man  drunk  and  sober  the  same  person, — why  else 
is  he  punished  for  the  fact  he  commits  when  drunk,  though  he  be 
never  afterward  conscious  of  it  ?  Just  as  much  the  same  person 
as  a  man  that  walks,  and  does  other  things  in  his  sleep,  is  the 
same  person,  and  is  answerable  for  any  mischief  he  shall  do  in  it. 
Human  laws  punish  both,  with  a  justice  suitable  to  their  way  of 
knowledge  ;  because  in  these  cases  they  cannot  distinguish  cer- 
tainly what  is  real,  what  counterfeit :  and  so  the  ignorance  in 
drunkenness  or  sleep  is  not  admitted  as  a  plea.  For  though 
punishment  be  annexed  to  personality,  and  personality  to  con- 
sciousness, and  the  drunkard  perhaps  be  not  conscious  of  what 
he  did  ;  yet  human  judicatures  justly  punish  him,  because  the 
fact  is  proved  against  him,  but  want  of  consciousness  cannot 
be  proved  for  him.  But  in  the  great  day,  wherein  the  secrets 
of  all  hearts  shall  be  laid  open,  it  may  be  reasonable  to  think,  no 
one  shall  be  made  to  answer  for  what  he  knows  nothing  of, 
but  shall  receive  his  doom,  his  conscience  accusing  or  excusing 
him. 

§  23.    CONSCIOUSNESS  ALONE  MAKES  SELF. 

Nothing  but  consciousness  can  unite  remote  existences  into  the 
same  person ;  the  identity  of  substance  will  not  do  it.  For 
whatever  substance  there  is,  however  framed,  without  conscious- 
ness there  is  no  person  ;  and  a  carcass  may  be  a  person,  as  well 
as  any  sort  of  substance  be  so  without  consciousness. 

Could  we  suppose  two  distinct  incommunicable  conscious- 
nesses acting  the  same  body,  the  one  constantly  by  day,  the  other 
by  night ;  and,  on  the  other  side,  the  same  consciousness  acting 
by  intervals  two  distinct  bodies  :  I  ask,  in  the  first  case,  whether 
the  day  and  the  night  man  would  not  be  two  as  distinct  persons 
as  Socrates  and  Plato?  And,  whether,  in  the  second  case,  there 
would  not  be  one  person  in  two  distinct  bodies,  as  much  as  one 
man  is  the  same  in  two  distinct  clothings  ?  Nor  is  it  at  all  mate- 
rial to  say,  that  this  same,  and  this  distinct  consciousness,  in  the 
cases  above  mentioned,  is  owing  to  the  same  and  distinct  imma- 
terial substances,  bringing  it  with  them  to  those  bodies  :  which. 


Oil.  XXVil.j  OP  IfefiNTITr  AND  MVEK&m.  JjH 

whether  true  or  no,  alters  not  the  case  ;  since  it  is  evident  the 
personal  identity  would  equally  be  determined  by  the  conscious- 
ness, whether  that  consciousness  were  annexed  to  some  individual 
immaterial  substance  or  no.  For  granting  that  the  thinking  sub- 
stance in  man  must  be  necessarily  supposed  immaterial,  it  is 
evident  that  immaterial  thinking  thing  may  sometimes  part  with 
its  past  consciousness,  and  be  restored  to  it  again,  as  appears  in 
the  forgetfulness  men  often  have  of  their  past  actions  :  and  the 
mind  many  times  recovers  the  memory  of  a  past  consciousness, 
which  it  had  lost  for  twenty  years  together.  Make  these  inter- 
vals of  memory  and  forgetfulness  to  take  their  turns  regularly  by 
day  and  night,  and  you  have  two  persons  with  the  same  immate- 
. rial  spirit,  as  much  as  in  the  former  instance  two  persons  with 
the  same  body.  So  that  self  is  not  determined  by  identity  or 
diversity  of  substance,  which  it  cannot  be  sure,  of,  but  only  by 
identity  of  consciousness. 

§  2-1. 

Indeed  it  may  conceive  the  substance,  whereof  it  is  now  made 
up,  to  have  existed  formerly,  united  in  the  same  conscious  being  : 
but  consciousness  removed,  that  substance  is  no  more  itself,  or 
makes  no  more  a  part  of  it,  than  any  other  substance  5  as  is  evi- 
dent in  the  instance  we  have  already  given  of  a  limb  cut  off,  of 
whose  heat,  or  cold,  or  other  affections,  having  no  longer  any 
consciousness,  it  is  no  more  of  a  man's  self  than  any  other  mat- 
ter of  the  universe.  In  like  manner  it  will  be  in  reference  to 
any  immaterial  substance,  which  is  void  of  that  consciousness 
whereby  I  am  myself  to  myself:  if  there  be  any  part  of  its 
existence  which  I  cannot  upon  recollection  join  with  that  present 
consciousness,  whereby  1  am  now  myself,  it  is  in  that  part  of  its 
existence  no  more  myself  than  any  other  immaterial  being.  For 
whatsoever  any  substance  has  thought  or  done,  which  1  cannot 
recollect,  and  by  my  consciousness  make  my  own  thought  and 
action,  it  will  no  more  belong  to  me,  whether  a  part  of  me  thought 
or  did  it,  than  if  it  had  been  thought  or  done  by  any  other  imma- 
terial being  any  where  existing. 

§25. 

I  agree,  the  more  probable  opinion  is,  that  this  conscious- 
ness is  annexed  to,  and  the  affection  of,  one  individual  immaterial 
substance. 

But  let  men,  according  to  their  diverse  hypotheses,  resolve  of 
that  as  they  please,  this  every  intelligent  being,  sensible  of  hap- 
piness or  misery,  must  grant,  that  there  is  something  that  is  him- 
self, that  he  is  concerned  for,  and  would  have  happy;  that  this 
self  has  existed  in  a  continued  duration  more  than  one  instant, 
and  therefore  it  is  possible  may  exist,  as  it  has  done,  months  and 
years  to  come,  without  any  certain  bounds  io  be  set  to  its  dura- 
tion :  and  mav  be  the  same  self,  by  <1ip  same   consdousne^' 


312  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  (BOOK  II. 

continued  on  for  the  future.  And  thus,  by  this  consciousness, 
he  finds  himself  to  be  the  same  self  which  did  such  or  such  an 
action  some  years  since,  by  which  he  comes  to  be  happy  or  mi- 
serable now.  In  all  which  account  of  self,  the  same  numerical 
substance  is  not  considered  as  making  the  same  self ;  but  the 
same  continued  consciousness,  in  which  several  substances  may 
have  been  united,  and  again  separated  from  it ;  which,  whilst 
they  continued  in  a  vital  union  with  that  wherein  this  conscious- 
ness then  resided,  made  a  part  of  that  same  self.  Thus  any  part 
of  our  bodies,  vitally  united  to  that  which  is  conscious  in  us, 
makes  a  part  of  ourselves  :  but  upon  separation  from  the  vital 
union,  by  which  that  consciousness  is  communicated,  that  which 
a  moment  since  was  part  of  ourselves  is  now  no  more  so  than  a 
part  of  another  man's  self  is  a  part  of  me ;  and  it  is  not  impossi- 
ble but  in  a  little  time  may  become  a  real  part  of  another  per- 
son. And  so  we  have  the  same  numerical  substance  become  a 
part  of  two  different  persons,  and  the  same  person  preserved 
under  the  change  of  various  substances.  Could  we  suppose 
any  spirit  wholly  stripped  of  all  its  memory  or  consciousness  of 
past  actions,  as  we  find  our  minds  always  are  of  a  great  part  of 
ours,  and  sometimes  of  them  all,  the  union  or  separation  of  such 
a  spiritual  substance  would  make  no  variation  of  personal  iden- 
tity, any  more  than  that  of  any  particle  of  matter  does.  Any 
substance  vitally  united  to  the  present  thinking  being  is  a  part  of 
that  very  same  self  which  now  is  :  any  thing  united  to  it  by  a 
consciousness  of  former  actions  makes  also  a  part  of  the  same 
self,  which  is  the  same  both  then  and  now. 

§  26.    PERSON",  A  FORENSIC  TERM. 

Person,  as  1  take  it,  is  the  name  for  this  self.  Wherever  a 
man  finds  what  he  calls  himself,  there  I  think  another  may  say  is 
the  same  person.  It  is  a  forensic  term  appropriating  actions  and 
their  merit ;  and  so  belongs  only  to  intelligent  agents  capable  of 
a  law,  and  happiness  and  misery.  This  personality  extends  itself 
beyond  present  existence  to  what  is  past  only  by  consciousness, 
whereby  it  becomes*  concerned  and  accountable,  owns  and  im- 
putes to  itself  past  actions,  just  upon  the  same  ground,  and  for 
the  same  reason  that  it  does  the  present ;  all  which  is  founded 
in  a  concern  for  happiness,  the  unavoidable  concomitant  of 
consciousness  ;  that  which  is  conscious  of  pleasure  and  pain 
desiring  that  that  self  that  is  conscious  should  be  happy.  And 
therefore  whatever  past  actions  it  cannot  reconcile  or  appro- 
priate to  that  present  self  by  consciousness,  it  can  be  no  more 
concerned  in  than  if  they  had  never  been  done  :  and  to  receive 
pleasure  or  pain,  i.  e.  reward  or  punishment,  on  the  account  of 
any  such  action,  is  all  one  as  to  be  made  happy  or  miserable  in 
its  first  being,  without  any  demerit  at  all.  For  supposing  a  man 
punished  now  for  what  he  had  done  in  another  life,  whereof  he 
could  be  made  to  have  no  consciousness  at  all.  what  difference 


CH.   XXVII.]  OP  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  313 

is  there  between  that  punishment,  and  being  created  miserable  ? 
And  therefore  conformable  to  this  the  apostle  tells  us,  that  at  the 
great  day,  when  every  one  shall  "  receive  according  to  his 
doings,  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  laid  open."  The 
sentence  shall  be  justified  by  the  consciousness  all  persons  shall 
have,  that  they  themselves,  in  what  body  soever  they  appear, 
or  what  substances  soever  that  consciousness  adheres  to,  are  the 
same  that  committed  those  actions,  and  deserve  that  punishment 
for  them. 

§27. 

I  am  apt  enough  to  think  I  have,  in  treating  of  this  subject, 
made  some  suppositions  that  will  look  strange  to  some  readers, 
and  possibly  they  are  so  in  themselves.  But  yet,  I  think,  they 
are  such  as  are  pardonable  in  this  ignorance  we  are  in  of  the 
nature  of  that  thinking  thing  that  is  in  us,  and  which  we  look  on 
as  ourselves.  Did  we  know  what  it  was,  or  how  it  was  tied  to 
a  certain  system  of  fleeting  animal  spirits;  or  whether  it  could 
or  could  not  perform  its  operations  of  thinking  and  memory  out 
of  a  body  organized  as  ours  is ;  and  whether  it  has  pleased  God 
that  no  one  such  spirit  shall  ever  be  united  to  any  one  but 
such  body,  upon  the  right  constitution  of  whose  organs  its  me- 
mory should  depend;  we  might  see  the  absurdity  of  some  of 
those  suppositions  1  have  made.  But  taking,  as  we  ordinarily 
now  do,  (in  the  dark  concerning  these  matters)  the  soul  of  a  man 
for  an  immaterial  substance,  independent  from  matter,  and 
indifFercnt  alike  to  it  all,  there  can  from  the  nature  of  things  be 
no  absurdity  at  all  to  suppose,  that  the  same  soul  may,  at  differ- 
ent times,  be  united  to  different  bodies,  and  with  them  make  up, 
for  that  time,  one  man  :  as  well  as  we  suppose  a  part  of  a  sheep's 
body  yesterday  should  be  a  part  of  a  man's  body  to-morrow, 
and  in  that  union  make  a  vital  part  of  Meliboeus  himself,  as  well 
as  it  did  of  his  ram. 

§  28.    THE  DIFFICULTY  FROM  ILL   USE  Or   NAMES. 

To  conclude  :  whatever  substance  begins  to  exist,  it  mint. 
during  its  existence,  necessarily  be  the  same  :  whatever  compo- 
sitions of  substances  begin  to  exist,  during  the  union  of  those 
substances  the  concrete  must  be  the  same :  whatsoever  mode 
begins  to  exist,  during  its  existence  it  is  the  same  :  and  so  if  the 
composition  be  of  distinct  substances  and  different  modes,  the 
same  rule  holds.  Whereby  it  will  appear,  that  the  difficulty  or 
obscurity  that  has  been  about  this  matter,  rather  rises  from  the 
names  ill  used,  than  from  any  obscurity  in  things  themselves. 
For  whatever  makes  the  specific  idea  to  which  the  name  is 
applied,  if  that  idea  be  steadily  kept  to,]  the  distinction  of  any 
thing  into  the  same  and  divers  will  easily  be  conceived,  and  there 
can  arise  no  doubt  about  it. 

Vol.  T.  in 


$\4  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  [BOOK  II. 

§  29.    CONTINUED  EXISTENCE    MAKES  IDENTITY. 

For  supposing  a  rational  spirit  be  the  idea  of  a  man,  it  is  easy 
to  know  what  is  the  same  man  ;  viz.  the  same  spirit,  whether 
separate  or  in  a  body,  will  be  the  same  man.  Supposing  a 
rational  spirit  vitally  united  to  a  body  of  a  certain  conformation 
of  parts  to  make  a  man,  whilst  that  rational  spirit,  with  that 
vital  conformation  of  parts,  though  continued  in  a  fleeting  suc- 
cessive body,  remains,  it  will  be  the  same.  But  if  to  any  one 
the  idea  of  a  man  be  but  the  vital  union  of  parts  in  a  certain 
shape,  as  long  as  that  vital  union  and  shape  remain,  in  a  con- 
crete no  otherwise  the  same,  but  by  a  continued  succession  of 
fleeting  particles,  it  will  be  the  same.  For  whatever  be  the 
composition  whereof  the  complex  idea  is  made,  whenever  exist- 
ence makes  it  one  particular  thing  under  any  denomination, 
the  same  existence,  continued,  preserves  it  the  same  individual 
under  the  same  denomination.* 

*  The  doctrine  of  identity  and  diversity  contained  in  this  chapter  the  bishop 
of  Worcester  pretends  to  be  inconsistent  with  the  doctrines  of  the  Christian  faith, 
concerning  the  resurrection  of  the  dead.  His  way  of  arguing  from  it  is  this  ; 
he  says,  The  reason  of  believing  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body,  upon  Mr. 
Locke's  grounds,  is  from  the  idea  of  identity.  To  which  our  author  answers  :* 
Give  me  leave,  my  lord,  to  say,  that  the  reason  of  believing  any  article  of  the 
Christian  faith  (such  as  your  lordship  is  here  speaking  of)  to  me,  and  upon  my 
grounds,  is  its  being  a  part  of  divine  revelation  ;  upon  this  ground  I  believed  it, 
before  I  either  writ  that  chapter  of  identity  and  diversity,  and  before  I  ever  thought 
of  those  propositions  which  your  lordship  quotes  out  of  that  chapter ;  and  upon 
the  same  ground  I  believe  it  still ;  and  not  from  my  idea  of  identity.  This  saying 
of  your  lordship's,  therefore,  being  a  proposition  neither  self-evident,  nor  allowed 
by  me  to  be  true,  remains  to  be  proved.  So  that  your  foundation  failing,  all  your 
large  superstructure  built  thereon  comes  to  nothing. 

But,  my  lord,  before  we  go  any  farther,  I  crave  leave  humbly  to  represent  to 
your  lordship,  that  I  thought  you  undertook  to  make  out  that  my  notion  of  ideas 
was  inconsistent  with  the  articles  of  the  Christian  faith.  But  that  which  your 
lordship  instances  in  here,  is  not,  that  I  yet  know,  an  article  of  the  Christian  faith. 
'The  resurrection  of  the  dead  I  acknowledge  to  be  an  article  of  the  Christian 
faith  :  but  that  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body,  in  your  lordship's  sense  of  the 
same  body,  is  an  article  of  the  Christian  faith,  is  what,  I  confess,  I  do  not  yet 
know. 

In  the  New  Testament  (wherein,  I  think,  are  contained  all  the  articles  of  the 
Christian  faith)  Ifind  our  Saviour  and  the  apostles  to  preach  the  resurrection  of  the 
dead,  and  the  resurrection  from  the  dead,  in  many  places  ;  but  I  do  not  remember 
;;ny  place  where  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body  is  so  much  as  mentioned.  Nay, 
which  is  very  remarkable  in  the  case,  I  do  not  remember  in  any  place  of  the  New 
Testament  (where  the  general  resurrection  at  the  last  day  is  spoken  of)  any  such 
expression  as  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  much  less  of  the  same  body. 

I  say  the  general  resurrection  at  the  last  day  ;  because,  where  the  resurrection  of 
«ume  particular  persons,  presently  upon  our  Saviour's  resurrection,  is  mentioned, 
the  words  are,  tThe  graves  were  opened,  and  many  bodies  of  saints,  which  slept, 
arose,  and  came  out  of  the  graves  after  his  resurrection,  and  went  into  the  Holy 
City,  and  appeared  to  many  :  of  which  peculiar  way  of  speaking  of  this  resurrec- 
tion the  passage  itself  gives  a  reason  in  these  words,  appeared  to  many,  i.  e.  those 
who  slept  appeared,  so  as  to  be  known  to  be  risen.  But  this  could  not  be  known, 
unless  they  brought  with  them  the  evidence  that  they  were  those  who  had  been 
dead ;  whereof  there  were  these  two  proofs,  their  graves  were  opened,  and  their 
bodies  not  only  gone  out  of  them,  but  appeared  to  be  the  tame  to  those  who  hod 

•  Tn  Ins  third  Letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Worcester, 
t  Matt,  xxvir,  62,  55. 


C.H.  XXVII.]  OP  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY '.  3lt> 

known  them  formerly  alive,  and  knew  Ihemto  be  dead  and  buried.  For  if  they  had 
been  those  who  had  been  dead  so  long,  that  all  who  kneAv  them  once  alive  were 
now  gone,  those  to  whom  they  appeared  might  have  known  them  to  be  men,  but 
could  not  have  known  they  were  risen  from  the  dead,  because  they  never  knew 
they  had  been  dead.  All  that  by  their  appearing  they  could  have  known  was, 
that  they  were  so  many  living  strangers,  of  whose  resurrection  they  knew  nothing. 
It  was  necessary,  therefore,  that  they  should  come  in  such  bodies  as  might  in 
make  and  size,  Sic.  appear  to  be  the  same  they  had  before,  that  they  might  be 
known  to  those  of  their  acquaintance  whom  they  appeared  to.  And  it  is  proba- 
ble they  were  such  us  were  newly  dead,  whose  bodies  were  not  yet  dissolved  and 
dissipated;  and,  therefore,  it  is  particularly  said  here  (differently  from  what  is 
said  of  the  general  resurrection,)  that  their  bodies  arose  ;  because  they  were 
the  same  that  were  then  lying  in  their  graves  the  moment  before  they  rose. 

But  your  lordship  endeavours  to  prove  it  must  +>e  the  same  body:  and  let  us 
grant  that  your  lordship,  nay,  and  others  too,  think  you  have  proved  it  must  be  the 
same  body ;  will  you  therefore  say,  that  he  holds  what  is  inconsistent  with  an 
article  of  faith,  who  having  never  seen  this  your  lordship's  interpretation  of  the 
Scripture,  nor  your  reasons  for  the  same  body,  in  your  sense  of  same  body ; 
or,  if  he  has  seen  them,  yet  not  understanding  them,  or  not  perceiving  the  force 
of  them,  believes  what  the  Scripture  proposes  to  him,  vis.  that  at  the  last  day  the 
dead  shall  be  raised,  without  determining  whether  it  shall  be  with  the  very  same 
bodies  or  no  ? 

I  know  your  lordship  pretends  not  to  erect  your  particular  interpretations  of 
Scripture  into  articles  of  faith.  And  if  you  do  not,  he  that  believes  the  dead  shall 
be  raised  believes  that  article  of  faith  which  the  Scripture  proposes ;  and  cannot  bo 
accused  of  holding  any  thing  inconsistent  with  it,  if  it  should  happen  that  what  he 
holds  is  inconsistent  with  another  proposition,  vis.  That  the  dead  shall  be  raised 
with  the  same  bodies,  in  your  lordship's  sense,  which  I  do  not  find  proposed  in 
Holy  Writ  as  an  article  of  faith. 

But  your  lordship  argues,  it  must  be  the  same  body;  which,  as  you  explain 
same  body,*  is  not  the  same  individual  particles  of  matter  which  were  united  at 
the  point  of  death,  nor  the  same  particles  of  matter  that  the  sinner  had  at  the  time 
of  the  commission  of  his  sins  ;  but  that  it  must  be  the  same  material  substance 
which  was  vitally  united  to  the  soul  here  ;  i.  e.  as  I  understand  it,  the  same  indi- 
vidual particles  of  matter  which  were,  some  time  or  other  during  his  life  here, 
vitally  united  to  his  soul. 

Your  first  argument  to  prove  that  it  must  be  the  same  body,  in  this  sense  of  the 
same  body,  is  taken  from  these  words  of  our  Saviour,t  All  that  are  in  the  graves 
shall  hear  his  voice,  and  shall  come  forth.  From  whence  your  lordship  argues, £ 
that  these  words,  All  that  are  in  their  graves,  relate  to  no  other  substance 
than  what  was  united  to  the  soul  in  life  :  because  a  different  substance  cannot 
be  said  to  be  in  the  graves,  and  to  come  out  of  them.  Which  words  of  your  lord- 
ship's, if  they  prove  any  thing,  prove  that  the  soul  too  is  lodged  in  the  grave,  and 
raised  out  of  it  at  the  last  day.  For  your  lordship  says,  Can  a  different  substance 
be  said  to  be  in  the  graves,  and  come  out  of  them  ?  So  that,  according  to  this  in- 
terpretation of  these  words  of  our  Saviour,  No  other  substance  being  raised,  but 
what  hears  his  voice  ;  and  no  other  substance  hearing  his  voice,  but  what,  being 
called,  comes  out  of  the  grave  ;  and  no  other  substance  coming  out  of  the  grave. 
but  what  was  in  the  grave ;  any  one  must  conclude,  that  the  soul,  unless  it  be  in 
the  grave,  will  make  no  part  of  the  person  that  is  raised  ;  unless,  as  your  lordship 
argues  against  me,5  you  can  make  it  out,  that  a  substance  which  never  was  in  the 
grave  may  come  out  of  it,  or  that  the  soul  is  no  substance. 

But  setting  aside  the  substance  of  the  soul,  another  thing  that  will  make  any  one 
doubt  whether  this  your  interpretation  of  our  Saviour's  words  be  necessarily  to  be 
received  as  their  true  sense,  is,  That  it  will  not  be  very  easily  reconciled  to  your 
;aying,||  you  do  not  mean  by  the  same  body  the  same  individual  particles  which 
were  united  at  the  point  of  death.  And  yet,  by  this  interpretation  of  our  Saviour's 
words,  you  can  mean  no  other  particles  but  such  as  were  united  at.  the  point  of 
death;  because  you  mean  no  other  substance  but  what  conies  out  of  the  grave  ; 
and  no  substance,  no  particles  come  out,  you  say,  but  what  were  in  the  grave;  and 
I  think  your  lordship  will  not  say,  that  the  particles  that  were  separate  from  the 
body  by  perspiration  before  the  point  of  death  were  laid  up  in  the  grave. 

But  your  lordship,  I  find,  has  an  answer  to  this,  vis.  1   That  by  comparing  thii 


-■-!  Ansu  •  •  n>jil 


'Ibid 


316  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  [eOOK  II. 

•with  ether  places,  you  find  that  the  words  [of  our  Saviour  above  quoted]  are  to  bo 
understood  of  the  substance  of  the  body,  to  which  the  soul  was  united,  and  not  to 
(I  suppose  your  lordship  writ,  of)  these  individual  particles,  i.  e.  those  individual 
particles  that  are  in  the  grave  at  the  resurrection.  For  so  they  must  be  read,  to 
make  your  lordship's  sense  entire,  and  to  the  purpose  of  your  answer  here  :  and 
then,  methinks,  this  last  sense  of  our  Saviour's  words  given  by  your  lordship, 
wholly  overturns  the  sense  which  we  have  given  of  them  above,  where  from  those 
words  you  press  the  belief  of  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body,  by  this  strong 
argument, that  a  substance  could  not,  upon  hearing  the  voice  of  Christ,  come  out  of 
the  grave,  which  was  never  in  the  grave.  There  (as  far  as  1  can  understand  your 
words)  your  lordship  argues,  that  our  Saviour's  words  are  to  be  understood  of  the 
particles  in  the  grave,  unless,  as  your  lordship  says,  one  can  make  it  out  that  a 
substance  which  never  was  in  the  grave  may  come  out  of  it.  And  here  your  lord- 
ship expressly  says,  That  our  Saviour's  words  are  to  be  understood  of  the  sub- 
stance of  that  body  to  which  the  soul  was  [at  any  time]  united,  and  not  to  those 
individual  particles  that  are  in  the  grave.  Which,  put  together,  seems  to  me  to  say- 
that  our  Saviour's  words  are  to  be  understood  of  those  particles  only  that  are  in 
the  grave,  and  not  of  those  particles  only  which  are  iu  the  grave,  but  of  others  also, 
which  have  at  any  time  been  vitally  united  to  the  soul,  but  never  were  in  the 
grave. 

The  next  text  your  lordship  brings  to  make  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body, 
in  your  sense,  an  article  of  faith,  are  these  words  of  St.  Paul :  *For  we  must  all 
appear  before  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ,  that  every  one  may  receive  the  things 
done  in  his  body,  according  to  that  he  hath  done,  whether  it  be  good  or  bad.  To 
which  your  lordship  subjoins  this  question  :t  Can  these  words  be  understood  of 
any  other  material  substance  but  that  body  in  which  these  things  were  done? 
Answer.  A  man  may  suspend  his  determining  the  meaning  of  the  apostle  to  be, 
that  a  sinner  shall  suffer  for  his  sins  in  the  very  same  body  wherein  he  committed 
them  :  because  St.  Paul  does  not  say  he  shall  have  the  very  same  body  when  he  suf- 
fers that  he  had  when  he  sinned.  The  apostle  says  indeed,  done  in  his  body.  The 
body  he  had,  and  did  things  in,  at  five  or  fifteen,  was,  no  doubt,  his  body,  as  much 
as  that  which  he  did  things  in  at  fifty  was  his  body,  though  his  body  were  not  the 
very  same  body  at  those  different  ages  ;  and  so  will  the  body  which  he  shall  have 
after  the  resurrection  be  his  body,  though  it  be  not  the  very  same  with  that  which 
he  had  at  five,  or  fifteen,  or  fifty.  He  that  at  threescore  is  broke  on  the  wheel,  for  a 
murder  he  committed  at  twenty,  is  punished  for  what  he  did  in  his  body,  though  the 
body  he  has,  i.  e.  his  body  at  threescore,  be  not  the  same,  i.  e.  made  up  of  the 
same  individual  particles  of  matter,  that  that  body  was  which  he  had  forty 
years  before.  When  your  lordship  has  resolved  with  yourself  what  that  same 
immutable  he  is,  which  at  the  last  judgment  shall  receive  the  things  done  in  his 
body,  your  lordship  will  easily  see  that  the  body  he  had  when  an  embryo  in  the 
womb,  when  a  child  playing  in  coats,  when  a  man  marrying  a  wife,  and  when 
bed-rid  dying  of  a  consumption,  and  at  last,  which  he  shall  have  after  his  resurrec- 
tion, are  each  of  them  his  body,  though  neither  of  them  be  the  same  body,  the  one 
with  the  other. 

But  farther,  to  your  lordship's  question,  Can  these  words  be  understood  of  any 
other  material  substance  but  that  body  in  which  these  things  were  done  ?  I  an- 
swer, These  words  of  St.  Paul  may  be  understood  of  another  material  substance 
than  that  body  in  which  these  things  were  done,  because  your  lordship  teaches  me, 
and  gives  me  a  strong  reason  so  to  understand  them.  Your  lordship  says,  JThat 
you  do  not  say  the  same  particles  of  matter  which  the  sinner  had  at  the  very  time 
of  the  commission  of  his  sins,  shall  be  raised  at  the  last  day.  And  your  lordship 
gives  this  reason  for  it :  §  For  then  a  long  sinner  must  have  a  vast  body,  considering 
the  continual  spending  of  particles  by  perspiration.  Now,  my  lord,  if  the  apostle's 
words,  as  your  lordship  would  argue,  cannot  be  understood  of  any  other  material 
substance,  but  that  body  in  which  these  things  were  done  ;  and  nobody,  upon  the 
removal  or  change  of  some  of  the  particles  that  at  any  time  make  it  up,  is  the 
same  material  substance,  or  the  same  body  ;  it  will,  I  think,  thence  follow,  that 
either  the  sinner  must  have  all  the  same  individual  particles  vitally  united  to  his 
soul  when  he  is  raised  that  he  had  vitally  united  to  his  soul  when  he  sinned,  or  else 
St.  Paul's  words  here  cannot  be  understood  to  mean  the  same  body  in  which  the 
things  were  done.  For  if  there  were  other  particles  of  matter  in  the  body,  where  i> 

• ,   r  V).  iuwer.  Ibid 


CH.'  XXVII. J  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  317 

the  things  were  done,  than  in  that  which  is  raised,  that  which  is  raised  cannot  be 
the  same  body  in  which  they  were  done  :  unless  that  alone,  which  has  just  all  the 
same  individual  particles  when  any  action  is  done,  being  the  same  body  wherein 
it  was  done,  that  also,  which  has  not  the  same  individual  particles  wherein  that 
action  was  (lone,  can  be  the  same  body  wherein  it  was  done  ;  which  is  in  effect  to 
make  the  same  body  sometimes  to  be  the  same,  and  sometimes  not  the  same. 

Your  lordship  thinks  it  suffices  to  make  the  same  body  to  have  not  all,  but  no 
other  particles  of  matter,  but  such  as  were  some  time  or  other  vitally  united  to 
the  soul  before  ;  but  such  a  body,  made  up  of  part  of  the  particles  some  time  or 
other  vitally  united  to  the  soul,  is  no  more  the  same  body  wherein  the  actions 
were  done  in  the  distant  parts  of  the  long  sinner's  life,  than  that  is  the  same  body 
in  which  a  quarter,  or  half,  or  three-quarters  of  the  same  particles,  that  made  it 
up,  are  wanting.  For  example,  a  sinner  has  acted  here  in  his  body  an  hundred 
years;  he  is  raised  at  the  last  day,  but  with  what  body  ?  The  same,  says  your 
lordship,  that  he  acted  in  ;  because  St.  Paul  says,  he  must  receive  the  things  done 
in  his  body.  What  therefore  must  his  body  at  the  resurrection  consist  of?  .vlust 
it  consist  of  all  the  particles  of  matter  that  have  ever  been  vitally  united  to  his 
soul  ?  for  they,  in  succession,  have  all  of  them  made  up  his  body  wherein  he  did 
these  things  ;  No,  says  your  lordship,*  that  would  make  his  body  too  vast ;  it 
suffices  to  make  the  same  body  in  which  the  things  were  done,  that  it  consists  of 
some  of  the  particles,  and  no  other,  but  such  as  were  some  time  during  his  life 
vitally  united  to  his  soul.  But  according  to  this  account,  his  body  at  the  resur- 
rection being,  as  your  lordship  seems  to  limit  it,  near  the  same  size  it  was  in 
some  part  of  his  life,  it  will  be  no  more  the  same  body  iu  which  the  things  were 
done  in  the  distant  parts  of  his  life,  than  that  is  the  same  body  in  which  half,  or 
three  quarters,  or  more  of  the  individual  matter  that  then  made  it  up,  is  now 
wanting.  For  example,  let  his  body  at  fifty  years  old  consist  of  a  million  of 
parts;  five  hundred  thousand  at  least  of  those  parts  will  be  different  from  those 
which  made  up  his  body  at  ten  years,  and  at  an  hundred.  So  that  to  take  the 
numerical  particles  that  made  up  his  body  at  fifty,  or  any  other  season  of  his  life 
or  to  gather  them  promiscuously  out  of  those  which  at  different  times  have  suc- 
cessively been  vitally  united  to  his  soul,  they  will  no  more  make  the  same  body 
which  was  his,  wherein  some  of  his  actions  were  done,  than  that  is  the  same  body 
which  has  but  half  the  same  particles  :  and  yet  all  your  lordship's  argument  here 
for  the  same  body  is,  because  St.  Paul  says  it  must  be  his  body  in  which  these 
things  were  done  ;  which  it  could  not  be  if  any  other  substance  were  joined  to  it. 
i.  e.  if  any  other  particles  of  matter  made  up  the  body  which  were  not  vitally 
united  to  the  soul  when  the  action  was  done. 

Again,  your  lordship  says,t  '•  That  you  do  not  say  the  same  individual  parti- 
cles [shall  make  up  the  body  at  the  resurrection  j  which  were  united  at  the  point 
of  death,  for  there  must  be  a  great  alteration  in  them  in  a  lingering  disease,  as  if  a 
fat  man  falls  into  a  consumption."  Because  it  is  likely  your  lordship  thinks  these 
particles  of  a  decrepit,  wasted,  withered  body  would  be  too  few,  or  unfit  to  make 
such  a  plump,  strong,  vigorous,  well-sized  body,  as  it  has  pleased  your  lordship  to 
proportion  out  in  your  thoughts  to  men  at  the  resurrection  ;  and  therefore  some 
small  portion  of  the  particles  formerly  united  vitally  to  that  man's  soul  shall  be 
reas3umed,to  make  up  his  body  to  the  bulk  your  lordship  judges  convenient;  but 
the  greatest  part  of  them  shall  be  left  out,  to  avoid  the  making  his  body  more  vast 
than  your  lordship  thinks  will  be  fit,  as  appears  by  these  your  lordship's  words 
immediately  following,  viz.  j"  That  you  do  not  say  the  same  particles  the  sinner 
had  at  the  very  time  of  commission  of  his  sins  :  for  then  a  long  sinner  must  have 
a  vast  body." 

But  then  pray,  my  lord,  what  must  an  embryo  do,  who  dying  within  a  k\v 
hours  after  his  body  was  vitally  united  to  his  soul,  has  no  particles  of  matter 
which  were  formerly  vitally  united  to  it,  to  make  up  his  body  of  that  size  and  pro- 
portion which  your  lordship  seems  to  require  in  bodies  :it  the  resurrection  ?  Or 
must  we  believe  he  shall  remain  content  with  that  small  pittance  of  matter,  and 
that  yet  imperfect  body  to  eternity,  because  it  is  an  article  of  faith  to  believe  the 
resurrection  of  the  very  same  body,  i.  e.  made  up  of  only  such  particles  as  have 
been  vitally  united  to  the  soul  ?     For  if  it  be  so,  a-  Iship  says^    "That 

life  is  the  result  of  the  union  of  soul  and  body,"  it  will  follow,  that  the  body  of  an 
embryo  dying  in  the  womb  may  be  very  little,  not  the  thousandth  part  of  any 

*."'l  A"-  '  [bl<l 


318  OP  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  [BOOK  II. 

ordinary  man.  For  since  from  the  first  conception  and  beginning  of  forma- 
tion it  has  life,  and  "  life  is  the  result  of  the  union  of  the  soul  with  the  body," 
an  embryo,  that  shall  die  either  by  the  untimely  death  of  the  mother,  or  by  any 
other  accident,  presently  after  it  has  life,  must,  according  to  your  lordship's  doc- 
trine, remain  a  man  not  an  inch  long  to  eternity  ;  because  there  are  no  particles  of 
matter  formerly  united  to  his  soul,  to  make  him  bigger,  and  no  other  can  be  made 
use  of  to  that  purpose  ;  though  what  greater  congruity  the  soul  hath  with  any 
particles  of  matter  which  were  once  vitally  united  to  it,  but  are  now  so  no  longer, 
than  it  hath  with  particles  of  matter  which  it  was  never  united  to,  would  be  hard 
to  determine,  if  that  should  be  demanded. 

By  these  and  not  a  few  other  the  like  consequences,  one  may  see  what  service 
they  do  to  religion  and  the  Christian  doctrine,  who  raise  questions  and  make 
articles  of  faith  about  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body,  where  the  Scripture  says 
nothing  of  the  same  body  ;  or  if  it  does,  it  is  with  no  small  reprimand  *  to  those 
who  make  such  an  inquiry.  "  But  some  men  will  say,  How  are  the  dead  raised 
up  ?  and  with  what  body  do  they  come  ?  Thou  fool,  that  which  thou  sowest  is 
not  quickened  except  it  die.  And  that  which  thou  sowest,  thou  sowest  not  that 
body  that  shall  be,  but  bare  grain,  it  may  chance  of  wheat,  or  of  some  other  grain. 
But  God  giveth  it  a  body,  as  it  hath  pleased  him."  Words,  I  should  think,  suffi- 
cient to  deter  us  from  determining  any  thing  for  or  against  the  same  bodies  being 
raised  at  the  last  day.  It  suffices  that  all  the  dead  shall  be  raised,  and  every  one 
appear  and  answer  for  the  things  done  in  his  life,  and  receive  according  to  the 
things  he  has  done  in  his  body,  whether  good  or  bad.  He  that  believes  this,  and 
has  said  nothing  inconsistent  herewith,  I  presume  may  and  must  be  acquitted 
from  being  guilty  of  any  thing  inconsistent  with  the  article  of  the  resurrection  of 
the  dead. 

But  your  lordship,  to  prove  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body  to  be  an  article 
of  faith,  farther  asks,t  "  How  could  it  be  said,  if  any  other  substance  be  joined  to 
the  soul  at  the  resurrection,  as  its  body,  that  they  were  the  things  done  in  or  by  the 
body  ?"  Answer.  Just  as  it  may  be  said  of  a  man  at  an  hundred  years  old,  that 
hath  then  another  substance  joined  to  his  soul  than  he  had  at  twenty,  that  the 
murder  or  drunkenness  he  was  guilty  of  at  twenty  were  things  done  in  the  body  : 
how  "  by  the  body"  comes  in  here  I  do  not  see. 

Your  lordship  adds,  "  And  St.  Paul's  dispute  about  the  manner  of  raising  the 
body  might  soon  have  ended,  if  there  were  no  necessity  of  the  same  body."  An- 
swer. When  I  understand  what  argument  there  is  in  these  words  to  prove  the 
resurrection  of  the  same  body,  without  the  mixture  of  one  new  atom  of  matter,  I 
shall  know  what  to  say  to  it.  In  the  mean  time  this  I  understand,  that  St.  Paul 
would  have  put  as  short  an  end  to  all  disputes  about  this  matter  if  he  had  said, 
that  there  was  a  necessity  of  the  same  body,  or  that  it  should  be  the  same 
body. 

The  next  text  of  Scripture  you  bring  for  the  same  body  is,  J"  If  there  be  no 
resurrection  of  the  dead,  then  is  not  Christ  raised."  From  which  your  lordship 
argues,  5  "  It  seems  then  other  bodies  are  to  be  raised  as  his  was."  I  grant  other 
dead,  as  certainly  raised  as  Christ  was  ;  for  else  his  resurrection  would  be  of  no 
use  to  mankind.  But  I  do  not  see  how  it  follows,  that  they  shall  be  raised  with 
the  same  body,  as  Christ  was  raised  with  the  same  body,  as  your  lordship  infers 
in  these  words  annexed  :  u  And  can  there  be  any  doubt,  whether  his  body  was 
the  same  material  substance  which  was  united  to  his  soul  before  ?"  I  answer, 
None  at  all :  nor  that  it  had  just  the  same  distinguishing  lineaments  and  marks, 
yea,  and  the  same  wounds  that  it  had  at  the  time  of  his  death.  If  therefore  your 
lordship  will  argue  from  other  bodies  being  raised  as  his  was,  that  they  must  keep 
proportion  with  his  in  sameness  ;  then  we  must  believe  that  every  man  shall  be 
raised  with  the  same  lineaments  and  other  notes  of  distinction  he  had  at  the  time 
of  his  death,  even  with  his  wounds  yet  open,  if  he  had  any,  because  our  Saviour 
was  so  raised ;  which  seems  to  me  scarce  reconcileable  with  what  your  lordship 
says,  of  a  fat  man  falling  into  a  consumption,  and  dying. || 

But  whether  it  will  consist  or  no  with  your  lordship's  meaning  in  that  place, 
this  to  me  seems  a  consequence  that  will  need  to  be  better  proved,  viz.  That  our 
bodies  must  be  raised  the  same,  just  as  our  Saviour's  was  :  because  St.  Paul  says, 
<;  if  there  be  no  resurrection  of  the  dead,  then  is  not  Christ  risen."    For  it  may  be  a 

►  l  Cor.  xv.  35,  ice,  1 3d  Answer  f2Cor.  sv.16.  §  2d  Answer.        Rn»M 


OH.  KXVII.]  OP  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  319 

good  consequence,  Christ  is  risen,  and  therefore  there  shall  be  a  resurrection  of  the 
dead  ;  and  yet  this  may  not  be  a  good  consequence,  Christ  was  raised  with  the 
sajne  body  he  had  at  his  death,  therefore  all  men  shall  be  raised  with  the  same 
body  they  had  at  their  death,  contrary  to  what  your  lordship  says  concerning  a 
fat  man  dying  of  a  consumption.  But  the  case  I  think  far  different  betwixt  our 
Saviour  and  those  to  be  raised  at  the  last  day. 

1.  His  body  saw  not  corruption,  and  therefore  to  give  him  another  body  new 
moulded,  mixed  with  other  particles,  which  were  not  contained  in  it  as  it  lay  in 
the  grave,  whole  and  entire  as  it  was  laid  there,  had  been  to  destroy  his  body  to 
frame  him  a  new  one  without  any  need.  But  why  with  the  remaining  particles 
of  a  man's  body  long  since  dissolved  and  mouldered  into  dust  and  atoms,  (whereof 
possibly  a  great  part  may  have  undergone  variety  of  changes,  and  enteied  into 
other  concretions,  even  in  the  bodies  of  other  men)  other  new  particles  of  matter 
mixed  with  them,  may  not  serve  to  make  his  body  again^  as  well  as  the  mixture 
of  new  and  different  particles  of  matter  with  the  old  did  in  the  compass  of  his 
life  make  his  body,  I  think  no  reason  can  be  given. 

This  may  serve  to  show  why,  though  the  materials  of  our  Saviour's  body  were 
not  changed  at  his  resurrection,  yet  it  does  not  follow,  but  that  the  body  of  a  man 
dead  and  rotten  in  his  grave,  or  burnt,  may  at  the  last  day  have  several  new  par- 
ticles in  it,  and  that  without  any  inconvenience  :  since  whatever  matter  is  vitally 
united  to  his  soul  is  his  body,  as  much  as  is  that  which  was  united  to  it  when  he 
was  born,  or  in  any  other  part  of  his  life. 

2.  In  the  next  place,  the  size,  shape,  figure,  and  lineaments  of  our  Saviour's 
body,  even  to  his  wounds,  into  which  doubting  Thomas  put  his  fingers  and  his 
hand,  were  to  be  kept  in  the  raised  body  of  our  Saviour,  the  same  they  were  at  his 
death,  to  be  a  conviction  to  his  disciples,  to  whom  he  showed  himself,  and  who 
were  to  be  witnesses  of  his  resurrection,  that  their  master,  the  very  same  man, 
was  crucified,  dead,  and  buried,  and  raised  again  ;  and  therefore  he  was  handled 
by  them,  and  eat  before  them  after  he  was  risen,  to  give  them  in  all  points  full 
satisfaction  that  it  was  really  he,  the  same,  and  not  another,  nor  a  spectre  or  ap- 
parition of  him :  though  I  do  not  think  your  lordship  will  thence  argue,  that 
because  others  are  to  be  raised  as  he  was,  therefore  it  is  necessary  to  believe,  that 
because  he  eat  after  his  resurrection,  others  at  the  last  day  shall  eat  and  drink 
after  they  are  raised  from  the  dead  ;  which  seems  to  me  as  good  an  argument  as 
because  his  undissolved  body  was  raised  out  of  the  grave,  just  as  it  there  lay 
entire,  without  the  mixture  of  any  new  particles  ;  therefore  the  corrupted  and 
consumed  bodies  of  the  dead,  at  the  resurrection,  shall  be  newly  framed  only  out  of 
those  scattered  particles  which  were  once  vitally  united  to  their  souls,  without  the 
least  mixture  of  any  one  single  atom  of  new  matter.  But  at  the  last  day,  when 
all  men  are  raised,  there  will  be  no  need  to  be  assured  of  any  one  particular 
man's  resurrection.  It  is  enough  that  every  one  shall  appear  before  the  judgment- 
seat  of  Christ,  to  receive  according  to  what  he  had  done  in  his  former  life  ;  but 
in  what  sort  of  body  he  shall  appear,  or  of  what  particles  made  up,  the  Scripture 
having  said  nothing,  but  that  it  shall  be  a  spiritual  body  raised  in  incorruption,  it 
is  not  for  me  to  determine. 

Your  lordship  asks,*  "  Were  they  [who  saw  our  Saviour  after  his  resurrection] 
witnesses  only  of  some  material  substance  then  united  to  his  soul  ?"  In  answer, 
I  beg  your  lordship  to  consider,  whether  you  suppose  our  Saviour  was  to  be 
known  to  be  the  same  man  (to  the  witnesses  that  were  to  see  him,  and  testify  his 
resurrection)  by  his  soul,  that  could  neither  be  seen  nor  known  to  be  the  same  ;  or 
by  his  body,  that  could  be  seen,  and  by  the  discernible  structure  and  marks  of  it, 
be  known  to  be  the  same  ?  When  your  lordship  has  resolved  that,  all  that  you  say 
in  that  page  will  answer  itself.  But  because  one  man  cannot  know  another  to  be 
the  same,  but  by  the  outward  visible  lineaments  and  sensible  marks  he  has  been 
wont  to  be  known  and  distinguished  by,  will  your  lordship  therefore  argue,  that 
the  Great  Judge,  at  the  last  day,  who  gives  to  each  man,  whom  he  raises,  his  new 
body,  shall  not  be  able  to  know  who  is  who,  unless  he  give  to  every  one  of  them 
a  body  just  of  the  jmne  figure,  size,  and  features,  and  made  up  of  the  very  same 
individual  particles  he  had  in  his  former  life  ?  Whether  such  a  way  of  arguingfor. 
the  resurrection  of  the  same  body,  to  be  an  article  of  faith,  contributes  much  to 
the  strengthening  the  credibility  of  the  article  of  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  I 
shall  leave  to  the  judgment  of  others. 

*  "A  Answer. 


320  OF    IDENTITY    AND   DIVERSITY.  [BOOK  II, 

Farther,  for  the  proving  the  resurrection  of  the  some  body  to  be  an  article  of 
faith,  your  lordship  says,*  "  But  the  apostle  insists  upon  the  resurrection  of  Christ, 
not  merely  as  an  argument  of  the  possibility  of  ours,  but  of  the  certainty  of  it : 
because  he  rose,  as  the  first-fruits ;  Christ  the  first-fruits,  afterward  they 
that  are  Christ's  at  his  coming."!  Answ.  No  doubt,  the  resurrection  of 
Christ  is  a  proof  of  the  certainty  of  our  resurrection.  But  is  it  therefore 
a  proof  of  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body,  consisting  of  the  same  indi- 
vidual particles  which  concurred  to  the  making  up  of  our  body  here,  without 
the  mixture  of  any  one  other  particle  of  matter  ?  I  confess  1  see  no  such  con- 
sequence. 

But  your  lordship  goes  on  ;|  "  St.  Paul  was  aware  of  the  objections  in  men's 
minds  about  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body  ;  and  it  is  of  great  consequence  as 
to  this  article,  to  show  upon  what  grounds  he  proceeds.  '  But  some  men  will 
say,  How  are  the  dead  raised  up,  and  with  what  body  do  they  come  ?'  First,  he 
shows,  that  the  seminal  parts  of  plants  are  wonderfully  improved  by  the  ordinary 
providence  of  God,  in  the  manner  of  their  vegetation."  Answer.  I  do  not  per- 
fectly understand  what  it  is  "  for  the  seminal  parts  of  plants  to  be  wonderfully 
improved  by  the  ordinary  providence  of  God,  in  the  manner  of  their  vegetation  :" 
or  else,  perhaps,  I  should  better  see  how  this  here  tends  to  the  proof  of  the  re- 
surrection of  the  same  body,  in  your  lordship's  sense. 

It  continues, J  "  They  sow  bare  grain  of  wheat,  or  of  some  other  grain,  but 
God  giveth  it  a  body,  as  it  hath  pleased  him,  and  to  every  seed  his  own  body. 
Here,"  says  your  lordship,  "  is  an  identity  of  the  material  substance  supposed." 
It  may  be  so.  But  to  me  a  diversity  ot  the  material  substance,  i.  e.  of  the  compo- 
nent particles,  is  here  supposed,  or  in  direct  words  said.  For  the  words  of  St.  Paul, 
taken  all  together,  run  thus,||  "  That  which  thou  sowest,  thou  sowest  not  that 
body  which  shall  be,  but  bare  grain  ;"  and  so  on, as  your  lordship  has  set  down  in 
the  remainder  of  them.  From  which  words  of  St.  Paul, the  natural  argument  seems 
to  me  to  stand  thus :  if  the  body  that  is  put  in  the  earth  in  sowing  is  not  that 
body  which  shall  be,  then  the  body  that  is  put  in  the  grave  is  not  that,  i.  e.  the 
same  body,  that  shall  be. 

But  your  loixlship  proves  it  to  be  the  same  body  by  these  three  Greek  words  of 
the  text,  to  t£m  trtejuit,  which  your  lordship  interprets  thus,1F  "That  proper 
body  which  belongs  to  it."  Answer.  Indeed  by  those  Greek  words  to  iftov 
o-aijUct,  whether  our  translators  have  rightly  rendered  them  "  his  own  body," 
or  your  lordship  more  rightly  "  that  proper  body  which  belongs  to  it,"  I 
formerly  understood  no  more  but  this,  that  in  the  production  of  wheat,  and  other 
grain  from  seed,  God  continued  every  species  distinct ;  so  that  from  grains  of 
wheat  sown,  root,  stalk,  blade,  ear,  grains  of  wheat  were  produced,  and  not  those 
of  barley ;  and  so  of  the  rest,  which  I  took  to  be  the  meaning  of  "  to  every  seed 
his  own  body."  No,  says  your  lordship,  these  words  prove,  That  to  every  plant  of 
wheat,  and  to  every  grain  of  wheat  produced  in  it,  is  given  the  proper  body  that 
belongs  to  it,  which  is  the  same  body  with  the  grain  that  was  sown.  Answ.  This, 
I  confess,  I  do  not  understand  ;  because  I  do  not  understand  how  one  individual 
grain  can  be  the  same  with  twenty,  fifty,  or  an  hundred  individual  grains  ;  for 
such  sometimes  is  the  increase. 

But  your  lordship  proves  it.  For,  says  your  lordship""  "  Every  seed  having 
that  body  in  little,  which  is  afterward  so  much  enlarged  ;  and  ingrain  the  seed  is 
corrupted  before  its  germination  ;  but  it  hath  its  proper  organical  parts,  which 
make  it  the  same  body  with  that  which  it  grows  up  to.  For  although  grain  be 
not  divided  into  lobes,  as  other  seeds  are,  yet  it  hath  been  found,  by  the  most  ac- 
curate observations,  that  upon  separating  the  membranes,  these  seminal  parts  are 
discerned  in  them  ;  which  afterward  grow  up  to  that  body  which  we  call  corn." 
In  which  words  I  crave  leave  to  observe,  that  your  lordship  supposes,  that  a  body 
may  be  enlarged  by  the  addition  of  an  hundred  or  a  thousand  times  as  much  in 
bulk  as  its  own  matter,  and  yet  continue  the  same  body,  which,  I  confess,  I 
cannot  understand. 

But  in  the  next  place,  if  that  could  be  so  ;  and  that  the  plant,  in  its  full  growth 
at  harvest,  increased  by  a  thousand  or  a  million  of  times  as  much  new  mat- 
ter added  to  it,  as  it  had  when  it  lay  in  little  concealed  in  the  grain  that  was 
sown,  was  the  very  same  body  ;  yet  I  do  not  think  that  your  lordship  will  say, 
that  every  minute,  insensible,  and  inconceivably  small  grain  of  the  hundred 

-  2.1  Answer.     M  Cor.  xv.  20.  "2J.     *  2d  Answer.    §  Ibid.     I'V-  37.     IT  2d  Answer.    **Jl>ifl. 


Oil.  XXVII. J  OF  1DKMITV  AND  DIVERSltl  u21 

y 

grains,  contained  in  that  little  organized  seminal  plant,  is  every  one  of  them  the 
very  same  with  that  grain  which  contains  that  whole  seminal  plant  and  all  those 
invisible  grains  in  it.  For  then  it  will  follow,  that  one  grain  is  Uk-  same  with  an 
hundred,  and  an  hundred  distinct  grains  the  same  with  one  :  which  1  shall  be 
able  to  assent  to,  when  I  can  conceive,  that  all  the  wheat  in  the  world  is  but  one 
grain. 

For  I  beseech  you,  my  lord,  consider  what  it  is  St.  Paul  here  speaks  of:  it  is 
plain  he  speaks  of  that  which  is  sown  and  dies,  i.  e.  the  grain  that  the  husband- 
man takes  out  of  his  barn  to  sow  in  his  Held.  And  of  this  grain  St.  Paul  says, 
"  that  it  is  not  that  body  that  shall  be."  These  two,  viz.  f  that  which  is  sown 
and  that  body  that  shall  be,1'  are  all  the  bodies  that  St.  Paul  here  speaks  of  to 
represent  the  agreement  or  difference  of  men's  bodies  alter  the  resurrection,  with 
those  they  had  before  they  died.  Now,  I  crave  leave  to  ask  your  lordship,  which 
of  these  two  is  that  little  invisible  seminal  plant,  which  your  lordship  here  speaks 
of?  Does  your  lordship  mean  by  it  the  grain  that  is  sown  ?  But  that  is  not  what 
St.  Paul  speaks  of;  he  could  not  mean  this  embryonated  little  plant,  for  he  could 
not  denote  it  by  these  words,  "that  which  thou  sowest,"  for  that  he  says  must 
die  :  but  this  little  embryonated  plant,  contained  in  the  seed  that  is  sown,  dies 
not ;  or  does  your  lordship  mean  by  it,  "  the  body  that  shall  be  ?"  But  neither 
by  these  words,  "the  body  that  shall  be,"  can  St.  Paul  be  supposed  to  denote 
this  insensible  little  embryonated  plant ;  for  that  is  already  in  being,  contained 
in  the  seed  that  is  sown,  and  therefore  could  not  be  spoken  of  under  the  name 
of  the  body  that  shall  be.  And  therefore,  I  confess,  I  cannot  see  of  what  use  it 
is  to  your  lordship  to  introduce  here  this  third  body,  which  St.  Paul  mentions  not, 
and  to  make  that  the  same,  or  not  the  same  with  auy  other,  when  those  which  St 
Paul  speaks  of,  are,  as  I  humbly  conceive,  these  two  visible  sensible  bodies,  Ur* 
grain  sown,  and  the  corn  grown  up  to  ear  :  with  neither  of  which  this  insensible 
embryonated  plant  can  be  the  same  body,  unless  an  insensible  body  can  be  the 
*ame  body  with  a  sensible  body,  and  a  little  body  can  be  the  same  body  with  one 
ten  thousand,  or  an  hundred  thousand  times  as  big  as  itself.  So  that  yet,  I  con- 
fess, I  see  not  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body  proved,  from  these  words,  of  St 
Paul,  to  be  an  article  of  faith. 

Your  lordship  goes  on  :  a  "  St.  Paul  indeed  saith,  That  we  sow  not  that  body 
that  shall  be  ;  but  he  speaks  not  of  the  identity,  but  the  perfection  of  it."  Here 
my  understanding  fails  me  again :  for  I  cannot  understand  St.  Paul  to  say.  That 
the  same  identical  sensible  grain  of  wheat,  which  was  sown  at  seed-time,  is  the  very 
same  with  every  grain  of  wheat,  in  the  ear  at  harvest,  that  sprang  from  it :  yet  so 
{  must  understand  it,  to  make  it  prove,  that  the  same  sensible  body,  that  is  laid  in 
the  grave,  shall  be  the  very  same  with  that  which  shall  be  raised  at  the  resurrec- 
tion. For  I  do  not  know  of  any  seminal  body  in  little,  contained  in  the  dead 
carcass  of  any  man  or  woman,  which,  as  your  lordship  says,  in  seeds,  having  its 
proper  organical  parts,  shall  afterward  be  enlarged,  and  at  the  resurrection  grow 
up  into  the  same  man.  For  I  never  thought  of  any  seed,  or  seminal  parts,  either 
of  plant  or  animal,  "so  wonderfully  improved  by  the  providence  of  God,'" 
whereby  the  same  plant  or  animal  should  beget  itself;  nor  ever  heard,  that  it 
was  by  divine  Providence  designed  to  produce  the  same  individual,  but  for 
the  producing  of  future  and  distinct  individuals  for  the  continuation  of  tire  same 
species. 

Your  lordship's  next  words  are,  b  "  and  although  there  be  such  a  difference 
!rom  the  grain  itself,  when  it  comes  up  to  be  perfect  corn,  with  root,  stalk,  blade, 
md  ear,  that  it  may  be  said  to  outward  appearance  not  to  be  the  same  body ; 
3  et  with  regard  to  the  seminal  and  organical  parts,  it  is  as  much  the  same,  as  a 
man  grown  up,  is  the  same  with  the  embryo  in  the  womb."  Answer.  It  does 
not  appear  by  any  thing  I  can  find  in  the  text,  that  St.  Paul  here  compared  the 
body  produced,  with  the  seminal  and  organical  parts  contained  in  the  grain  it 
-prang  from,  but  with  the  whole  sensible  gra.n  that  Was  grown.  Microscopes 
had  not  then  discovered  the  little  embryo  plant  in  the  seed  :  and  supposing  it 
-iiould  have  been  revealed  to  St.  Paul",  (though  in  the  Scripture  we  (ind  little 
revelation  of  natural  philosophy.)  yet  an  argument  taken  from  a  thing  perfectly 
unknown  to  the  Corinthians  whom  he  writ  to,  could  be  of  no  manner  of  use  to 
them  :  nor  serve  at  all  either  to  instruct  or  to  convince  them.  But  granting  that 
those  St.  Paul  writ  to,  knew  it  as  well  as  Mr.  Lewenhoek  ;  yet  your  lordship 

a  2d  Aus.  b  lb. 

Vol.  I-  -11 


o22  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY."  [BO0K  If. 

thereby  proves  not  the  raising  of  the  same  body  ;  your  lordship  says,  it  is  as  much 
'the  same  [I  crave  leave  to  add  body]  "  as  a  man  grown  up  is  the  same"  (same 
what,  I  beseech  your  lordship  ?)  "  with  the  embryo  in  the  womb."  For  that  the 
body  of  the  embryo  in  the  womb,  and  body  of  the  man  grown  up,  is  the  same 
body,  I  think  no  one.  will  say  ;  unless  he  can  persuade  himself,  that  a  body  that 
is  not  the  hundredth  part  of  another,  is  the  same  with  that  other  ;  which  I  think 
no  one  will  do,  till  having  renounced  this  dangerous  way  by  ideas  of  think- 
ing and  reasoning,  he  has  learnt  to  say,  that  a  part  and  the  whole  are  the 
j-amc. 

Your  lordship,  goes  on,  c  "  And  although  many  arguments  may  be  used  to 
nrove,  that  a  man  is  not  the  same,  because  life,  which  depends  upon  the  course  of 
the  blood,  and  the  manner  of  respiration,  and  nutrition,  is  so  different  in  both 
states;  yet  that  man  would  be  thought  ridiculous,  that  should  seriously  affirm, 
That  it  was  not  the  same  man."  And  your  lordship  says,  "  I  grant  that  the  varia- 
tion of  great  parcels  of  matter  in  plants,  alters  not  the  identity  :  and  that  the 
organization  of  the  parts  in  one  coherent  body,  partaking  of  one  common  life, 
makes  the  identity  of  a  plant."  Answer.  My  lord,  I  think  the  question  is  not 
about  the  same  man,  but  the  same  body.  For  though  I  do  say,  d  (somewhat  dif- 
ferently from  what  your  lordship  sets  down  as  my  words  here)  "  That  that  which 
has  such  an  organization,  as  is  fit  to  receive  and  distribute  nourishment,  so  as  to 
continue  and  frame  the  wood,  bark,  and  leaves,  Sic.  of  a  plant,  in  which  consists 
the  vegetable  life,  continues  to  be  the  same  plant,  as  long  as  it  partakes  of  the 
same  life,  though  that  life  be  communicated  to  new  particles  of  matter,  vitally 
united  to  the  living  plant ;"  yret  I  do  not  remember,  that  I  any  where  say,  That  a 
plant,  which  was  once  no  bigger  than  an  oaten  straw,  and  afterward  grows  to 
he  above  a  fathom  about,  is  the  same  body,  though  it  be  still  the  same  plant. 

The  well-known  tree  in  Epping  Forest,  called  the  King's  Oak,  which  from  not 
weighing  an  ounce  at  first,  grew  to  have  many  tons  of  timber  in  it,  was  all  along 
the  same  oak,  the  very  same  plant ;  but  nobody,  I  think,  will  say  that  it  was  the 
tame  body  when  it  weighed  a  ton,  as  it  was  when  it  weighed  but  an  ounce, 
unless  he  has  a  mind  to  signalize  himself  by  saying,  That  that  is  the  same  body, 
which  has  a  thousand  particles  of  different  matter  in  it,  for  one  particle  that  is 
the  same  ;  which  is  no  better  than  to  say,  That  a  thousand  different  particles  are 
but  one  aud  the  same  particle,  and  one  and  the  same  particle  is  a  thousand  differ- 
ent particles ;  a  thousand  times  a  greater  absurdity,  than  to  say  half  is  whole,  or 
♦he  whole  is  the  same  with  the  half;  which  will  be  improved  ten  thousand  times 
yet  farther,  if  a  man  shall  say  (as  your  lordship  seems  to  me  to  argue  here)  That 
that  groat  oak  is  the  very  same  body  with  the  acorn  it  sprang  from,  because  there 
was  in  that  acorn  an  oak  in  little,  which  was  afterward  (as  your  lordship  expres- 
ses it)  so  much  enlarged,  as  to  make  that  mighty  tree.  For  this  embryo,  if  I  may 
so  rail  it,  or  oak  in  little,  being  not  the  hundredth,  or  perhaps  the  thousandth  part 
ff>(  the  acorn,  and  the  acorn  being  not  the  thousandth  part  of  the  grown  oak,  it 
will  be  very  extraordinary  to  prove  the  acorn  and  the  grown  oak  to  be  the  same 
body,  by  a  way  wherein  it  cannot  be  pretended  that  above  one  particle  of  an  hun- 
dred thousand,  or  a  million,  is  the  same  in  the  one  body,  that  it  was  in  the  other. 
From  which  way  of  reasoning,  it  will  folloAV,  that  a  nurse  and  her  sucking  child 
have  the  same  body,  and  be  past  doubt,that  a  mother  and  her  infant  have  the 
same  body.  But  this  is  a  way  of  certainty  found  out  to  establish  the  articles  of 
faith,  and  to  overturn  the' new  method  of  certainty  that  your  lordship  says,  "I 
have  started,  which  is  apt  to  leave  men's  minds  more  doubtful  than  before." 

And  now  I  desire  your  lordship  to  consider  of  what  use  it  is  to  you  in  the 
present  case,  to  quote  out  of  my  essay  these  words,  "  That  partaking  of  one  com-  * 
mon  life,  makes  the  identity  of  a  plant ;"  since  the  question  is  not  about  the 
identity  of  a  plant,  but  about  the  identity  of  a  body;  it  being  a  very  different 
thing  to  be  the  same  plant,  and  to  be  the  same  body.  For  that  which  makes  the 
same  plant,  does  not  make  the  same  body;  the  one  being  the  partaking  in  the 
same  continued  vegetable  life,  the  other  the  consisting  of  the  same  numerical  par- 
ticles of  matter.  And  therefore  your  lordship's  inference  from  my  words  above 
quoted,  in  these  which  you  subjoin,  e  seems  to  me  a  very  strange  one,  viz. "  So  that 
in  things  capable  of  any  sort  of  life,  the  identity  is  consistent  with  a  continued 
-■accession  of  parts ;  and  so  the  wheat  grown  up  is  the  same  body  with  the  grain 
that  was  sown."    For  I  believe,  if  my  words,  from  which  you  infer,  "And  «<■ 

e  ?il  Aar  <i  Essaj  b.  2.  <•.  27  -  I  c  2d  An' 


CH.   XXVII.  J  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  323 

the  wheat  grown  up  is  the  same  body  with  the  grain  that  was  8 OWB  ;"  were  put" 
into  a  syllogism,  this  would  hardly  be  brought  to  be  the  conclusion. 

But  your  lordship  goes  on  with  consequence  upon  consequence,  though  I  hare 
not  eyes  acute  enough  every  where  to  sec  the  connexion,  till  you  bring  it  to  the 
resurrection  of  the  same  body.  The  connexion  of  your  lordship's  worda  ( is  as 
followeth  "And  thus  the  alteration  of  the  parts  of  the  body  at  the  resurrection, 
is  consistent  with  its  identity,  if  its  organization  and  life  be  the  same  :  and  this  is 
a  real  identity  of  the  body,  which  depends  not  upon  consciousness.  From  whence 
it  follows,  that  to  make  the  same  body,  no  more  is  required,  but  restoring  life  t» 
the  organized  parts  of  it."  If  the  question  were  about  raising  the  sanve  plant,  I 
do  not  say  but  there  might  be  some  appearance,  from  making  such  an  inference 
from  my  words  as  this.  "Whence  it  follows,  that  to  make  the  same  plant,  no 
more  is  required,  but  to  restore  life  to  the  organized  parts  of  it."  But  this  de- 
duction, wherein,  from  those  words  of  mine  that  sneak  only  of  the  identity  of 
a  plant,  your  lordship  infers,  there  is  no  more  required  to  make  the  same  bod}', 
than  to  make  the  same  plant,  being  too  subtle  for  me,  I  Leaye  to  my  reader  to 
find  out. 

Your  lordship  goes  on  and  says,  S  That  I  grant  likewise,  "  That  the  identity  of 
the  same  man  consists  in  a  participation  of  the  same  continued  life,  by  constant!) 
fleeting  particles  of  matter  fn  succession,  vitally  united  to  the  same  organized 
body."  Answer.  (  speak  in  these  words  of  the  identity  of  the  same  man,  and 
your  lordship  thence  roundly  concludes;  "so  that  there  is  no  difficulty  of  the 
sameness  of  the  body."  But  your  lordship  knows,  that  I  do  not  take  these  two 
sounds,  man  and  body,  to  stand  for  the  same  thing,  nor  the  identity  of  the  man 
_to  be  the  same  with  the  identity  of  the  body. 

But  let  us  read  out  your  lordship's  words.  •> "  So  that  there  is  no  difficulty  as 
to  the  sameness  of  the  body,  if  life  were  continued ;  and  if,  by  divine  power, 
life  be  restored  to  that  material  substance  which  was  before  united,  by  a  reunion 
of  the  soul  to  it,  there  is  no  reason  to  deny  the  identity  of  the  bod}*,  not  from  the 
consciousness  of  the  soul,  but  from  that  life  which  is  the  result  of  the  union  of  the 
soul  and  body." 

If  I  understand  your  lordship  right,  you  in  these  words,  from  the  passage- 
above  quoted  out  of  my  book,  argue,  that  from  those  words  of  mine  it  will 
follow,  that  it  is  or  may  be  the  same  body,  that  is  raised  at  the  resurrection.  It 
so,  tny  lord,  your  lordship  has  then  prove!,  that  my  book  is  not  inconsistent  with. 
but  eonformable  to  this  article  of  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body,  which  your 
lordship  contends  for,  and  will  have  to  lie  an  article  ol  faith  ;  for  though  I  do  by 
no  means  deny  that  the  same  bodies  shall  be  raised  at  the  last  day,  yet  1  see 
nothing  your  lordship  has  said  to  prove  it  to  be  an  article  of  faith. 

But  your  lordship  goes  on  with  your  proofs,  and  says, '  "  but  St.  Paul  still  sup- 
poses, that  it  must  he  that  material  stbstance  to  which  the  soul  was  before  uni 
ted.  For,  saith  he,  "  it  is  sown  in  corruption,  it  is  raised  in  incorruplion,  ii 
is  sown  in  dishonour,  it  is  raised  in  glory  :  it  is  sown  in  weakness,  it  is  raised  iu 
power:  it  is  sown  a  natural  body,  it  is  raised  a  spiritual  body*"  Can  such  a 
material  substance,  which  was  never  united  to  the  body,  be  said  to  be  sown  in 
corruption,  and  weakness,  and  dishonour?  cither,  therefore,  lie  must  speak  oi  the 
same  body,  or  his  meaning  cannot  be  comprehended."  1  answer,  "Can  such  u 
material  substance,  which  was  never  laid  in  the  grave,  be  said  l<>  be  sown,"  foe' 
For  your  lordship  says,  k  "  You  do  not  say  the  same  individual  particle*,  which 
were  united  at  the  point  of  death,  shall  be  raised  at  the  last  day  ;"  and  no  other 
particles  are  laid  in  the  grave, but  such  as  are  united  at  the  point  oi  death  ;  eithei 
therefore  your  lordship  mu  I  speak  of  .another  body;  different  from  that  which 
»wn,  which  shall  be  raise  I,  or  else  your  meaning,  1  think,  cannot  be  com- 
:  ii  ehended. 

But  whatever  be  your  meaning,  your  lordship  proves  it  to  be  St.  Paul's  mean- 

;.  1'iial  the  game  bpdy  shall  be  raised,  which  was  sown,  in  these  following 
words,  f"  For  what  does  all  this  relate  lO  a  conscious  principle:*  Answer. 
The  Scripture  being  express,  that  the  same  person  should  be  raised  and  appear 
before  the  judgment-geai  of  Christ,  that  every  one  may  receive  according  to  what 
be  had  done  in  bis  body;  it  was  very  well  suited  to  common  apprehensions  (which 
refined  not  about  "  particles  that  ha  1  been  vitally  unite!  to  the  soul")  to  speak  of 
the  body  winch  each  one*%as  to  have  after  the  resurrection,  as  he  would  be  apt 
to  speak  of  it  himself.  For  it  being  his  body  both  before  aud  after  the  resnrreolion 

f Qrl  Answer.  p  llji.t.  lilbi.1.  i  Jbitl  k  fh'<J.  I  Km 


324  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY-  [BOOK  II. 

every  one  ordinarily  speaks  of  his  body  as  the  same,  though  in  a  strict  and  phi- 
losophical sense,  as  your  lordship  speaks,  it  be  not  the  very  same.  Thus  it  is  no 
impropriety  of  speech  to  say,  "This  body  of  mine,  which  was  formerly  strong 
afld  plump,  is  now  weak  and  wasted,"  though  in  such  a  sense  as  you  are  speaking 
here,  it  be  not  the  same  body.  Revelation  declares  nothing  any  where  concern- 
ing the  same  body  in  your  lordship's  sense  of  the  same  body,  which  appears  not 
to  have  been  thought  of.  The  apostle  directly  proposes  nothing  for  or  against  the 
same  body,  as  necessary  to  be  believed  :  that  which  he  is  plain  and  direct  in,  is  his 
opposing  and  condemning  such  curious  questions  about  the  body,  which  could 
serve  only  to  perplex,  not  to  confirm  what  was  material  and  necessary  for  them 
to  believe,  viz.  a  day  of  judgment  and  retribution  to  men  in  a  future  state  ;  and 
therefore  it  is  no  wonder,  that  mentioning  their  bodies,  he  should  use  a  way  of 
speaking  suited  to  vulgar  notions,  (from  which  it  would  be  hard  positively  to  con- 
clude any  thing  for  the  determining  of  this  question  especially  against  expressions 
in  the  same  discourse  that  plainly  incline  to  the  other  side,)  in  a  matter  which, 
as  it  appears,  the  apostle  thought  not  necessary  to  determine,  hnd  the  spirit  of 
God  thought  not  fit  to  gratify  any  one's  curiosity  in. 

But  your  lordship  says,  m  "  The  apostle  speaks  plainly  of  that  body  which  was 
once  quickened,  and  afterward  falls  to  corruption,  and  is  to  be  restored  with  more 
noble  qualities."  I  wish  your  lordship  had  quoted  the  words  of  St.  Paul,  where- 
in he  speaks  plainly  of  that  numerical  body  that  was  once  quickened ;  they 
would  presently  decide  this  question.  But  your  lordship  proves  it  by  these 
following  words  of  St.  Paul :  "  For  this  corruption  must  put  on  incorruption,  and 
this  mortal  must  put  on  immortality  ;"  to  which  your  lordship  adds,  "that  you 
do  not  see  how  he  could  more  expressly  affirm  the  identity  of  this  corruptible 
body,  with  that  after  the  resurrection."  How  expressly  it  is  affirmed  by  the 
apostle,  shall  be  considered  by  and  by.  In  the  mean  time,  it  is  past  doubt,  that 
your  lordship  best  knows  what  you  do  or  do  not  see.  But  this  I  would  be  bold 
to  say,  that  if  St.  Paul  had  any  where  in  this  chapter  (where  there  are  so  many 
occasions  for  it,  if  it  had  been  necessary  to  have  been  believed)  but  said  in  express 
words  that  the  same  bodies  should  be  raised,  every  one  else,  who  thinks  of  it, 
will  see  he  had  more  expressly  affirmed  the  identity  of  the  bodies  which  men  now 
have,  with  those  they  shall  have  after  the  resurrection. 

The  remainder  of  your  lordship's  period  is;  "  '*  And  that  without  any  respect 
to  the  principle  of  self-consciousness."  Ans.  These  words,  ]  doubt  not,  have 
some  meaning,  but  I  must  own  I  know  not  what ;  either  towards  the  proof  of 
the  resurrection  of  the  same  body,  or  to  show,  that  any  thing  I  have  said  con- 
cerning self-consciousness,  is  inconsistent :  for  1  do  not  remember  that  I  have  any 
where  said,  that  the  identity  of  body  consisted  in  self-consciousness. 

From  your  preceding  words,  your  lordship  concludes  thus:  °  "And  so  if  the 
Scripture  be  the  sole  foundation  of  our  faith,  this  is  an  article  of  it."  My  lord, 
to  make  the  conclusion  unquestionable,  I  humbly  conceive  the  words  must  run 
thus  :  "  And  so  if  the  Scripture,  and  your  lordship's  interpretation  of  it  be  the 
sole  foundation  of  our  faith,  the  resurrection  of  the  same  body  is  an  article  of  it." 
For,  with  submission,  your  lordship  has  neither  produced  express  words  of  Scrip- 
ture for  it,  nor  so  proved  that  to  be  the  meaning  of  any  of  those  words  of  Scrip- 
ture which  you  have  produced  for  it,  that  a  man  who  reads  and  sincerely  endea- 
vours to  understand  the  Scripture,  cannot  but  find  himself  obliged  to  believe,  as 
expressly,  "  that  the  same  bodies  of  the  dead,"  in  your  lordship's  sense,  shall  be. 
raised,  as  "  that  the  dead  shall  be  raised."  And  I  crave  leave,  to  give  your  lord- 
ship this  one  reason  for  it.  He  who  reads  with  attention  this  discourse  of  St. 
Paul,P  where  he  discourses  of  the  resurrection,  will  see,  that  he  plainly  distin- 
guishes between  the  dead  that  shall  be  raised,  and  the  bodies  of  the  dead.  For  it 
is  viKgot  TtavTU  01  are  the  nominative  cases  to  <l  \yugtrrat.  faoTTJiiiQno-ovTou.  e)-teBi>o-ovrcn 
all  alon0-,  and  not  o-wy.tTX.,  Viodics  ;  which  one  may  with  reason  think  would  some 
where  or  other  have  been  expressed,  if  all  this  had  been  said  to  propose  it  as  an 
article  of  faith,  that  the  very  same  bodies  should  be  raised.  The  same  manner  of 
speaking  the  spirit  of  God  observes  all  through  the  New  Testament,  where  it  is 
paid,  r  "raise  the  dead,  quicken  or  make  alive  the  dead,  the  resurrection  of  the 
dead."     Nay,  these  very  words  of  our  Saviour,  s  urged  by  your  lordship^for  the 

m  2d  Ans.        n  Ibid.        o  Ibid.         p  1  Cor.  xv.         q  V.  15,  22,  23,  29, 32,  35,  52. 
r  Matt.  xiii.  SI.    Mark  xii.  26.    John  v.  21.  Acts  xvi.  7.  Rom.  iv.  17.  2  Cor.  i.  9.  1  ThesS!  ir.  14,  lft 
s  Johp  v.  28,  29. 


OH.  XXVII.]  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  325 

resurrection  of  the  same  body,  run  thus,  Havre;  ot  tv  to«  f*vny.uoK  axjKTovvau  «r?r 
<f awUf  outs'  jcsu  iKTrofivrwrat,  oi  ra  ayaBa  itoi»<rsty<rH  «c  at-vag-atm  £&»;,  ot  <Se  to  fau\*  *£*$;• 
xv<th  «f  a»(L<?teTN  xy<rta>;.  Would  not  a  well-meaning;  searcher  of  the  Scriptures  be 
apt  to  think,  that  if  the  thing  here  intended  by  our  Saviour  were  to  teach,  and 
propose  it  as  an  article  of  faith,  necessary  to  be  believed  by  every  one,  that  the 
very  same  bodies  of  the  dead  should  be  raised  ;  would  not,  I  say,  any  one  be  apt 
to  think,  that  if  our  Saviour  meant  so,  the  words  should  rather  have  been,  vaunt 
-ra  v-atfAaT*  a i  tv  rot;  fAvn/uuei;,  i.  e.  "all  the  bodies  that  are  in  the  graves,"  rather 
than  "  all  who  are  in  the  graves  ;"  which  must  denote  persons,  and  not  precisely 
bodies  ? 

Another  evidence,  that  St.  Paul  makes  a  distinction  between  the  dead  and  the 
bodies  of  the  dead,  so  that  the  dead  cannot  be  taken  in  this,  1  Cor.  xv.  to  stand 
precisely  for  the  bodies  of  the  dead,  are  these  words  of  the  apostle,  *  "  but  some 
men  will  say,  how  are  the  dead  raised?  And  with  what  bodies  do  they  come ?:' 
Which  words,  "  dead"  and  "  they,"  if  supposed  to  stand  precisely  for  the  bodies 
of  the  dead,  the  question  will  run  thus  :  "  How  are  the  dead  bodies  raised  ?  And 
with  what  bodies  do  the  dead  bodies  come?"  Which  seems  to  have  no  very 
agreeable  sense. 

This  therefore  being  so,  that  the  Spirit  of  God  keeps  so  expressly  to  this  phrase, 
or  form  of  speaking  in  the  New  Testament,  "of  raising,  quickening,  rising, 
resurrection,  <fec.  of  the  dead,"  where  the  resurrection  of  the  last  day  is  spoken 
of;  and  that  the  body  is  not  mentioned,  but  in  answer  to  this  question,  "  With 
what  bodies  shall  those  dead,  who  are  raised,  come?"  so  that  by  the  dead  cannot 
precisely  be  meant  the  dead  bodies  :  1  do  not  see  but  a  good  Christian,  who  reads 
the  Scripture  with  an  intention  to  believe  all  that  is  there  revealed  to  him  concern- 
ing the  resurrection,  may  acquit  himself  of  his  duty  therein,  without  entering 
into  the  inquiry,  whether  the  dead  shall  have  the  veiy  same  bodies  or  no  ?  Whicli 
sort  of  inquiry  the  apostle,  by  the  appellation  he  bestows  here  on  him  that  makes 
it,  seems  not  much  to  encourage.  Nor,  if  he  shall  think  himself  bound  to  deter- 
mine concerning  the  identity  of  the  bodies  of  the  dead  raised  at  the  last  day,  will 
he,  by  the  remainder  of  St.  Paul's  answer,  find  the  determination  of  the  Apostle 
to  be  much  in  favour  of  the  very  same  body  ;  unless  the  being  told,  that  the  bodv 
«own,  is  not  that  body  that  shall  be  ;  that  the  body  raised  is  as  different  from  that 
which  was  laid  down,  as  the  flesh  of  man  is  from  the  flesh  of  beasts,  fishes,  and 
birds  ;  or  ac  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  arc  different  one  from  another ;  or  as  different 
as  a  corruptible,  weak,  natural,  mortal  body,  is  from  an  incorruptible,  powerful, 
spiritual,  immortal  body  ;  and  lastly,  as  different  as  a  body  that  is  flesh  and  blood, 
is  from  a  body  that  is  not  flesh  and  blood  :  "  for  flesh  and  blood  cannot,"  says  St. 
Paul,  in  this  very  place,  "  "inherit  the  kingdom  of  God  :"  unless, I  say,  all  this 
which  is  contained  in  St.  Paul's  words,  can  be  supposed  to  be  the  way  to  deliver 
this  as  an  article  of  faith,  which  is  required  to  be  believed  by  every  one,  viz. 
"  That  the  dead  should  be  raised  with  the  very  same  bodies  that  they  had  before 
in  this  life  j"  which  article  proposed  in  these  or  the  like  plain  and  express  words, 
could  have  left  no  room  for  doubt  in  the  meanest  capacities,  nor  for  contest  in  the 
most  perverse  minds. 

Yo'.'r  lordship  adds  in  the  next  words,  *  "  And  so  it  hath  been  always  under- 
stood by  the  Christian  church,  viz.  That  the  resurrection  of  the  same  bod}',  in 
your  lordship's  sense  of  the  same  body,  is  an  article  ot'  Faith."  Answer.  What 
the  Christian  church  has  always  understoo  i,  i-  beyond  my  knowledge.  But  for 
fho-e  who  coming  short  of  your  lordship's  great  teaming  cannot  gather  their  arti- 
cles of  faith  from  the  understanding  of  all  the  whole  Christian  church,  ever  since 
the  incaching  of  the  gospel,  (who  nnikc  the  far  greater  part  of  Christians,  I  think 
1  may  say  nine  hundred  ninety  and  nine  of  a  thousand)  but  are  forced  to  have  re- 
course to  the  Scripture  to  find  them  there,  I  do  not  see,  that  they  will  easily  find 
there  this  proposed  as  an  article  of  faith,  that  there  shall  be  a  resurrection  of  the 
same  body  ;  but  that  there  shall  be  a  resurrection  of  the  dead,  without  explicitly 
determining.  That  they  shall  be  raised  with  bodies  made  up  wholly  of  the  same 
particles  which  were  once  vitally  united  to  their  souls  in  their  former  life,  without 
the  mixture  of  any  one  other  particle  of  matter  ;  whicli  is  that  which  your  lord- 
ship means  by  the  same  body. 

But  supposing  your  lordship  to  have  demonstrated  this  to  be  an  article  of  faith, 
♦hough  I  crave  leave  to  own,  that  I  do  not  see,  that  all  that  your  lordship  has  said 

»V>r.S"v  ii  V.  "A  x2J  Ajis. 


326  9F  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  [BOOK  II. 

here,  makes  it  so  much  as  probable  ;  What  is  all  this  to  me  ?  Yes,  says  your  lord- 
shi  p  in  the  following  words,  a  "  My  idea  of  personal  identity  is  inconsistent  with 
it,  for  it  makes  the  same  body  which  was  here  united  to  the  soul,  not  to  be  neces- 
sary to  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection.  B  ut  any  material  substance  united  to  the 
same  principle  of  consciousness,  makes  the  same  body." 

This  is  an  argument  of  your  lordship's  which  I  am  obliged  to  answer  to.  But 
is  it  not  fit  I  should  first  understand  it,  before  I  answer  it  ?  Now  here  I  do  not 
well  know  what  it  is,  "  to  make  a  thing  not  to  be  necessary  to  the  doctrine  of  the  re- 
surrection." But  to  help  myself  out  the  best  I  can,  with  a  guess,  I  will  conjecture 
(which,  in  disputing  with  learned  men,  is  not  very  safe)  your  lordship's  meaning 
is,  that  "  my  idea  of  personal  identity  makes  it  not  necessary,"  that  for  the  rais- 
ing the  same  person,  the  body  should  be  the  same. 

Your  lordship's  next  word  is  "  but ;"  to  which  I  am  ready  to  reply,  But  whatf 
What  does  my  idea  of  personal  identity  do  ?  For  something  of  that  kind  the  ad- 
versative particle  "  but"  should,  in  the  ordinary  construction  of  our  language, 
introduce,  to  make  the  proposition  clear  and  intelligible :  but  here  is  no  such 
thing.  "  But,"  is  one  of  your  lordship's  privileged  particles,  which  I  must  not 
meddle  with,  for  fear  your  lordship  complain  of  me  again,  "  as  so  severe  a  critic, 
that  for  the  least  ambiguity  in  any  particle  fill  up  pages  in  my  answer,  to  make 
my  book  look  considerable  for  the  bulk  of  it."  But  since  this  proposition  here, 
"  my  idea  of  personal  identity  makes  the  same  body  which  was  here  united  to 
the  soul,  not  necessary  to  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection :  but  any  material  sub- 
stance being  united  to  the  same  principle  of  consciousness,  makes  the  same  body,'" 
is  brought  to  prove  my  idea  of  personal  identity  inconsistent  with  the  article  of 
the  resurrection  ;  I  must  make  it  out  in  some  direct  sense  or  other,  that  I  may 
see  whether  it  be  both  true  and  conclusive.  I  therefore  venture  to  read  it  thus  : 
11 '  My  idea  of  personal  identity  makes  tiie  same  body  which  was  here  united  to 
the  soul,  not  to  be  necessary  at  the  resurrection  ;  but  allows,  that  any  material 
substance  being  united  to  the  same  principle  of  consciousness,  makes  the  same 
body.  Ergo,  my  idea  of  personal  identity  is  inconsistent  with  the  article  of  the 
resurrection  of  the  same  body." 

If  this  be  your  lordship's  sense  in  this  passage,  as  I  here  have  guessed  it  to  be, 
or  else  I  know  not  what  it  is,  I  answer, 

1.  That  my  idea  of  personal  identity  does  not  allow,  that  any  material  sub- 
stance, being  united  to  the  same  principle  of  consciousness,  makes  the  same  body. 
I  say  no  such  thing  in  my  book,  nor  any  thing  from  whence  it  may  be  inferred  ; 
and  your  lordship  would  have  done  me  a  favour  to  haveset  down  the  words  where 
I  say  so,  or  those  from  which  you  mfer  so,  and  showed  how  it  follows  from  any 
thing  I  have  said. 

2.  Granting,  that  it  were  a  consequence  from  my  idea  of  personal  identity,  that 
"  any  material  substance,  being  united  to  the  same  principle  of  consciousness, 
makes  the  same  body  ;  this  would  not  prove  thai  my  idea  of  personal  identity  was 
inconsistent  with  this  proposition,  "  that  the  same  body  shall  be  raised,"  but,  on 
the  contrary,  affirms  it :  since,  if  I  affirm,  as  I  do,  that  the  same  person  shall  be 
raised,  and  it  be  a  consequence  o!  my  idea  of  personal  identity,  that  "  any  mate- 
rial substance  being  united  to  the  same  principle  of  consciousness,  makes  the  same 
body  ;"  it  follows,  that  if  the  sane  person  be  raised,  the  same  body  must  be  raised  ; 
and  so  I  have  herein  said  nothing  inconsistent  with  the  resurrection  of  the  same 
body,  but  have  said  more  for  it  than  your  lordship.  For  there  can  be  nothing 
plainer,  than  that  in  the  Scripture  it  is  revealed,  that  the  same  persons  shall  be 
raised,  and  appear  before  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ,  to  answer  for  what  they 
have  done  in  their  bodies,  [f  therefore  whatever  matter  be  joined  to  the  princi- 
ple of  consciousness  makes  the  same  body,  it  is  demonstration,  that  if  the  same 
persons  are  raised,  they  have  the  same  bodies. 

How  then  your  lordship  makes  this  an  inconsistency  with  the  resurrection  is 
beyond  my  conception.  "  Yes,"  says  your  lordship,  ^"it  is  inconsistent  with  it. 
for  it  makes  the  body  which  wa  ■  here  united  to  the  soul,  not  to  be  mcessary." 

3. 1  answer,  therefore,  thirdly,  That  this  is  the  first  time  I  ever  learnt,  that 
"  not  necessary"  was  the  same  with  "  inconsistent."  I  say,  that  a  body  made  up 
of  the  same  numerical  parts  of  matter,  is  not  necessary  to  the  making  of  the  same 
person;  from  whence  it  will  indeed  follow,  that  to  the  resurrection  of  the  same 
person,  the  same  numerical  particles  of  matter  are  not  required.     What  does  youi 


CH.  XXVII.]  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  $27 

lordship  infer  from  hence  ?  To  wit,  this :  Therefore  he  who  thinks,  that  the  same 
particles  of  matter  are  not  necessary  to  the  making  of  the  same  person,  cannot 
believe,  that  the  same  person  shall  be  raised  with  bodies  made  of  the  very  same 
particles  of  matter,  if  God  should  reveal,  that  it  shall  be  so,  viz.  That  the  same 
persons  shall  be  raised  with  the  same  bodies  they  had  before.  Which  is  all  one 
as  to  say,  that  he  who  thought  the  blowing  of  rams'  horns  was  not  necessary  ia 
itself  to  the  falling  down  of  the  w;dls  of  Jericho,  could  not  believe,  that  they 
should  fall  upon  the  blowing  of  rams'  horns,  when  God  had  declared  it  should 
be  so. 

Your  lordship  says,  "  my  idea  of  personal  identity  is  inconsistent  with  the  article 
af  the  resurrection  :"  the  reason  you  ground  it  on,  is  this,  because  it  makes  not  the 
same  body  necessary  to  the  making  the  same  person.  Let  us  grant  your  lordship's 
consequence  to  be  good,  what  will  follow  from  it  ?  No  less  than  this,  that  your  lord- 
ship's notion  (for  I  dare  not  say  your  lordship  has  any  so  dangerous  things  as  ideas) 
of  personal  identity,  is  inconsistent  with  the  article  of  the  resurrection.  The  de- 
monstration of  it  is  thus  :  your  lordship  says,  e  f*  It  is  not  necessary  that  the  body, 
to  be  raised  at  the  last  day,  should  consist  of  the  same  particles  of  matter  which 
were  united  at  the  point  of  death  ;  for  there  must  be  a  great  alteration  in  them  in 
a  lingering  disease,  as  if  a  fat  man  falls  into  a  consumption  :  you  do  not  say  the 
same  particles  which  the  sinner  had  at  the  very  time  of  commission  of  his  sins  ;  for 
then  a  long  sinner  must  have  a  vast  body,  considering  the  continual  spending  of 
particles  by  perspiration."  And  again,  here  your  lordship  says, '  "  You  allow  the 
notion  of  personal  identity  to  belong  to  the  same  man  under  several  changes  of 
matter."  From  which  words  it  is  evident,  that  your  lordship  supposes  a  person  in 
this  world  may  be  continued  and  preserved  the  same  in  a  body  not  consisting  of 
the  same  individual  particles  of  matter  ;  and  hence  it  demonstratively  follows, 
That  let  your  lordship's  notion  of  personal  identity  be  what  it  will,  it  makes  "  the 
same  body  not  to  be  necessary  to  the  same  person  ;"  and  therefore  it  is  by  your 
lordship's  rule  inconsistent  with  the  article  of  the  resurrection.  When  your  lord- 
ship shall  think  fit  to  clear  your  own  notion  of  personal  identity  from  this  inconsis- 
tency with  the  article  of  the  resurrection,  I  do  not  doubt  but  my  idea  of  personal 
identity  will  be  thereby  cleared  too. — Till  then,  all  inconsistency  with  that  article, 
which  your  lordship  has  here  charged  on  mine,  will  unavoidably  fall  upon  your 
lordship's  too. 

But  for  the  clearing  of  both,  give  me  leave  to  say,  my  lord,  that  whatsoever  is 
not  necessary,  does  not  thereby  become  inconsistent.  It  is  not  necessary  to  the 
vame  person,  that  his  body  should  always  consist  of  the  same  numerical  particles  ; 
this  is  demonstration,  because  the  particles  of  the  bodies  of  the  same  persons  in  this 
life  change  every  moment,  and  your  lordship  cannot  deny  it :  and  yet  this  makes 
it  not  inconsistent  with  God's  preserving,  if  he  thinks  fit,  to  the  same  persons, 
bodies  consisting  of  the  same  numerical  particles  always  from  the  resurrection  to 
eternity. — And  so  likewise  though  I  say  any  thing  that  supposes  it  not  necessary, 
that  the  same  numerical  particles,  which  were  vitally  united  to  the  soul  in  this 
life,  should  be  reunited  to  it,  at  the  resurrection,  and  constitute  the  body  it  shall 
then  have  ;  yet  it  is  not  inconsistent  with  this,  that  God  may,  if  he  pleases,  give  to 
every  one  a  body  consisting  only  of  such  particles  as  were  before  vitally  united  to 
his  soul.  And  thus,  I  think,  I  have  cleared  my  book  from  all  that  inconsistency 
which  your  lordship  charges  on  it,  and  would  persuade  the  world  it  has  with  the 
article  of  the  resurrection  of  the  dead. 

Only  before  I  leave  it,  1  will  set  down  the  remainder  of  what  your  lordship 
says  upon  this  head,  that  though  I  see  not  the  coherence  nor  tendency  of  it,  no* 
the  force  of  any  argument  in  it  against  me  ;  yet  that  nothing  may  be  omitted  that 
your  lordship  has  thought  fit  to  entertain  your  reader  with  on  this  new  point,  nor 
any  one  have  reason  to  suspect,  that  I  have  passed  by  an/  word  of  your  lordship's 
(on  this  now  first  introduced  subject)  wherein  he  might  find  your  lordship  had 
proved  what  you  had  promised  in  your  title  page.  Your  remaining  words  arc 
these  :  &"The  dispute  is  not  how  far  personal  identity  in  itself  may  consist  in 
the  very  same  material  substance ;  for  we  allow  the  notion  of  personal  iden- 
tity to  belong  to  the  same  man  under  several  changes  of  matter  ;  but  whether 
it  doth  not  depend  upon  a  vital  union  between  the  soul  and  body,  and  th'- 
liic,  which  is  consequent  upon  it ;  and  therefore  in  the  resurrection,  the  same  ma- 
terial substance  must  be  reunited, or  else  it  cannot  be  'ailed  a  resurrection,  but  ;t 
renovation,  ?'.  e.  it  may  be  a  new  life,  but  not  a  raising  the  body  from  th' 

e24  A'.-.  t"  Ibid.  B  h>M 


2t>4  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY.  [BOOK  II. 

dead."  I  confess,  I  do  not  see  how  what  is  here  ushered  in  by  the  words 
"  and  therefore,"  is  a  consequence  from  the  preceding  words  :  but  as  to  the 
propriety  of  the  name,  1  think  it  will  not  be  much  questioned,  that  if  the  same 
man  rise  who  was  dead,  it  may  very  properly  be  called  the  resurrection  of  the 
dead ;  which  is  the  language  of  the  Scripture. 

I  must  not  part  with  this  article  of  the  resurrection,  without  returning  my 
thanks  to  your  lordship  for  making  me  h  take  notice  of  a  fault  in  my  essay. 
When  I  wrote  that  book,  I  took  it  for  granted,  as  I  doubt  not  but  many  otiiers 
have  done,  that  the  Scripture  had  mentioned,  in  express  terms,  "  the  resurrection 
of  the  body."  But  upon  the  occasion  your  lordship  has  give  me  in  your  last 
letter,  to  look  a  little  more  narrowly  into  what  revelation  has  declared  concern- 
ing the  resurrection,  and  finding  no  such  express  words  in  the  Scripture,  as  that 
"  the  body  shall  rise  or  be  raised,  or  the  resurrection  of  the  body."  I  shall  in  the 
next  edition  of  it,  change  these  words  of  my  book,  •  "  The  dead  bodies  of  men 
shall  rise,"  into  these  of  the  Scripture,  "  The  dead  shall  rise."  Not  that  I 
question,  that  the  dead  shall  be  raised  with  bodies ;  but  in  matters  of  reve- 
lation, I  think  is  not  only  safest,  but  our  duty,  us  far  as  any  one  delivers  it 
for  revelation,  to  keep  close  to  the  words  of  the  Scripture,  unless  he  will 
assume  to  himself  the  authority  of  one  inspired,  or  make  himself  wiser  than 
the  Holy  spirit  himself.  If  I  had  spoke  of  the  resurrection  in  precisely  scripture 
terms,  I  had  avoided  giving  your  lordship  the  occasion  of  making  k  here  such  a 
verbal  reflection  on  my  words ;  "  What !  not  if  there  be  an  idea  of  identity  as  u 
the  body?" 

h  2d  Ans<  i  I  Essay, D.  4  0. 18.  §  7.  k2d  Ap.s. 


m 

CHAPTER  XXVII) 

OF  OTHER  RELATIONS. 

§    2.   PROPORTIONAL. 

Besides  the  before-mentioned  occasions  of  time,  place,  and 
easuality  of  comparing,  or  referring  things  one  to  another,  there 
are,  as  I  have  said,  infinite  others,  some  whereof  I  shall  mention. 

First,  The  first  1  shall  name,  is  some  one  simple  idea  ;  which 
being  capable  of  parts  or  degrees,  affords  an  occasion  of  compa- 
ring the  subjects  wherein  it  is  to  one  another,  in  respect  of  that 
simple  idea,  v.  g.  whiter,  sweeter,  bigger,  equal,  more,  &c. 
These  relations  depending  on  the  equality  and  excess  of  the 
same  simple  idea,  in  several  subjects,  may  be  called,  if  one 
will,  proportional :  and  that  these  are  only  conversant  about 
those  simple  ideas  received  from  sensation  or  reflection,  is  s<» 
evident,  that  nothing  need  be  said  to  evince  it. 

§  2.    NATURAL. 

Secondly,  Another  occasion  of  comparing  things  together,  or 
considering  one  thing,  so  as  to  include  in  that  consideration  some 
other  thing,  is  the  circumstances  of  their  origin  or  beginning ; 
which  being  not  afterward  to  be  altered,  make  the  relations  de- 
pending thereon  as  lasting  as  the  subjects  to  which  they  belong; 
z>.  g.  father  and  son,  brothers,  cousin-germans,  &c.  which  have 
their  relations  by  one  community  of  blood,  wherein  they  partake 
in  several  degrees ;  countrymen,  i.  e.  those  who  were  born  in 
the  same  country,  or  tract  of  ground  ;  and  these  I  call  natural 
relations;  wherein  we  may  observe,  that  mankind  have  fitted 
their  notions  and  words  to  the  use  of  common  life,  and  not  to  the 
truth  and  extent  of  things.  For  it  is  certain,  that  in  reality  the 
relation  is  the  same  betwixt  the  begetter  and  the  begotten,  in  the 
several  races  of  other  animals  as  well  as  men  :  but  yet  it  is  sel- 
dom said,  this  bull  is  the  grandfather  of  such  a  calf:  or  that  two 
pigeons  are  cousin-germans.  It  is  very  convenient,  that  by  dis- 
tinct names  these  relations  should  be  observed,  and  marked  out 
in  mankind  ;  there  being  occasion,  both  in  laws,  and  other  com- 
munications one  with  another,  to  mention  and  take  notice  of  men 
under  these  relations:  from  whence  also  arise  the  obligations  of 
several  duties  among  men.  Whereas  in  brutes,  men  having  very 
little  or  no  cause  to  mind  these  relations,  they  have  not  thought 
tit  to  give  them  distinct  and  peculiar  names.  This,  by  the  way, 
may  give  us  some  light  into  the  different  state  and  growth  of 
languages;  which,  being  suited  only  to  the  convenience  of  com- 
munication, are  proportioned  to  the  notions  men  have,  and  the 
commerce  of  thoughts  familiar  among  them  ;  and  not  to  the 
reality  or  extent  of  things,  nor  to  the  various  respects  mi<mt  be 

Vol.  T.  !  > 


330  OF  MORAL  RELATIONS.  [BOOK  IT. 

found  among  them,  nor  the  different  abstract  considerations  might 
he  framed  about  them.  Where  they  had  no  philosophical  no- 
lions,  there  they  had  no  terms  to  express  them  :  and  it  is  no 
wonder  men  should  have  framed  no  names  for  those  things  they 
found  no  occasion  to  discourse  of.  From  whence  it  is  easy  to 
imagine,  why,  as  in  some  countries,  they  may  have  not  so  much 
sis  the  name  for  a  horse ;  and  in  others,  where  they  are  more 
careful  of  the  pedigrees  of  their  horses,  than  of  their  own,  that 
there  they  may  have  not  only  names  for  particular  horses, 
but  also  of  their  several  relations  of  kindred  one  to  another. 

§  3.    INSTITUTED. 

Thirdly,  Sometimes  the  foundation  of  considering  things,  with 
reference  to  one  another,  is  some  act  whereby  any  one  comes  by 
a  moral  right,  power,  or  obligation  to  do  something.  Thus,  a 
general  is  one  that  hath  power  to  command  an  army:  and  an 
army  under  a  general  is  a  collection  of  armed  men  obliged  to 
obey  one  man.  A  citizen,  or  a  burgher,  is  one  who  has  a  right 
to  certain  privileges  in  this  or  that  place.  All  this  sort  depend- 
ing upon  men's  wills,  or  agreement  in  society,  I  call  instituted,  or 
voluntary ;  and  may  be  distinguished  from  the  natural,  in  that 
they  are  most,  if  not  all  of  them,  some  way  or  other  alterable, 
;ind  separable  from  the  persons  to  whom  they  have  sometimes 
belonged,  though  neither  of  the  substances,  so  related,  be  de- 
stroyed. Now,  though  these  are  all  reciprocal,  as  well  as  the 
rest,  and  contain  in  them  a  reference  of  two  things  one  to  the 
other  ;  yet,  because  one  of  the  two  things  often  wants  a  relative 
name,  importing  that  reference,  men  usually  take  no  notice  of  it, 
and  the  relation  is  commonly  overlooked:  v.  g.  a  patron  and 
client  arc  easily  allowed  to  be  relations,  but  a  constable  or  dic- 
tator are  not  so  readily,  at  first  hearing,  considered  as  such ;  be- 
cause there  is  no  peculiar  name  for  those  who  are  under  the 
command  of  a  dictator,  or  constable,  expressing  a  relation  to 
either  of  them  ;  though  it  be  certain,  that  either  of  them  hath  a 
certain  power  over  some  others  ;  and  so  is  so  far  related  to  them, 
as  well  as  a  patron  is  to  his  client,  or  general  to  his  army. 

§  4.    MORAL. 

Fourthly,  There  is  another  sort  of  relation,  which  is  the  con- 
formity, or  disagreement,  men's  voluntary  actions  have  to  a 
rule  to  which  they  are  referred,  and  by  which  they  are  judged 
of;  which,  1  think,  may  be  called  moral  relation,  as  being  that 
which  denominates  our  moral  actions,  and  deserves  well  to  be 
examined  ;  there  being  no  part  of  knowledge  wherein  we  should 
be  more  careful  to  get  determined  ideas,  and  avoid,  as  much  as 
may  be,  obscurity  and  confusion.  Human  actions,  when  with  their 
various  ends,  objects,  manners,  and  circumstances,  they  are  framed 
mto  distinct  complex  ideas,  are,  as  has  been  shown,  so  many  mixed 
modes,  a  great  part  whereof  have  names  annexed  to  them.  Thus, 
supposing  gratitude  to  he  a  readiness  to  acknowledge  and  return 


CH.   XXVIII.  J  OF  MORAL   RELATIONS  ,131 

kindness  received,  polygamy  to  be  the  having  more  wives  than 
one  at  once  ;  when  we  frame  these  notions  thus  in  our  minds, 
we  have  there  so  many  determined  ideas  of  mixed  modes. 
But  this  is  not  all  that  concerns  our  actions  ;  it  is  not  enough 
to  have  determined  ideas  of  them,  and  to  know  what  names 
belong  to  such  and  such  combinations  of  ideas.  We  have  a  far- 
ther and  greater  concernment,  and  that  is,  to  know  whether  such 
actions,  so  made  up,  are  morally  good  or  bad. 

6   5.    MORAL  GOOD  AND  EVIL. 

Good  and  evil,  as  hath  been  shown,  B.  II.  Ch.  20,  §  ?.  and  Ch. 
21,  §  42.  are  nothing  but  pleasure  or  pain,  or  that  which  occa- 
sions or  procures  pleasure  or  pain  to  us.  Moral  good  and  evil 
then  is  only  the  conformity  or  disagreement  of  our  voluntary 
actions  to  some  law,  whereby  good  or  evil  is  drawn  on  us  by  the 
will  and  power  of  the  law-maker  ;  which  good  and  evil,  pleasure 
or  pain,  attending  our  observance,  or  breach  of  the  law,  by 
the  decree  of  the  law-maker,  is  that  we  call  reward  and  punish- 
ment. 

§  6.   MORAL  RULES. 

Of  these  moral  rules,  or  laws,  to  which  men  generally  refer, 
and  by  which  they  judge  of  the  rectitude  or  pravity  of  their 
actions,  there  seem  to  me  to  be  three  sorts,  with  their  three  dif- 
ferent enforcements,  or  rewards  and  punishments.  For  since  it 
would  be  utterly  in  vain  to  suppose  a  rule  set  to  the  free  actions 
of  men,  without  annexing  to  it  some  enforcement  of  good  and 
evil  to  determine  his  will,  we  must,  wherever  we  suppose  a  law, 
suppose  also  some  reward  or  punishment  annexed  to  that  law. 
It  would  be  in  vain  for  one  intelligent  being  to  set  a  rule  to  the 
actions  of  another,  if  he  had  it  not  in  his  power  to  reward  the 
compliance  with,  and  punish  deviation  from  his  rule,  by  some 
good  and  evil,  that  is  not  the  natural  product  and  consequence 
of  the  action  itself.  For  that  being  a  natural  convenience,  or 
inconvenience,  would  operate  of  itself  without  a  law.  This,  if 
I  mistake  not,  is  the  true  nature  of  all  law,  propei'ly  so  called. 

§  7.    LAWS. 

The  laws  that  men  generally  refer  their  actions  to,  to  judge  of 
their  rectitude,  or  obliquity  seem  tome  to  be  these  three.  1. 
The  divine  law.  2.  The  civil  law.  3.  The  law  of  opinion  or  re- 
putation, if  I  may  so  call  it.  By  the  relation  they  bear  to  the 
first  of  these,  men  judge  whether  their  actions  are  sins  or  duties  ; 
by  the  second,  whether  they  be  criminal  or  innocent ;  and  by  the 
third,  whether  they  be  virtues  or  vices. 

§  8.    DIVINE  LAW,  THE  MEASURE  OF  SIN   AND  DUTY. 

Fir*t,  The  divine  law,  whereby  I  mean  that  law  which  God 
has  set  to  the  actions  of  men,  whether  promulgated  to  them  by 


332  OF  MORAL  RELATIONS*.  .[BOOK  II. 

the  light  of  nature,  or  the  voice  of  revelation.  That  God  has 
given  a  rule  whereby  men  should  govern  themselves,  I  think 
there  is  nobody  so  brutish  as  to  deny.  He  has  a  right  to  do 
it :  we  are  his  creatures  :  he  has  goodness  and  wisdom  to  direct 
eur  actions  to  that  which  is  best ;  and  he  has  power  to  en- 
force it  by  rewards  and  punishments,  of  infinite  weight  and  dura- 
tion, in  another  life ;  for  nobody  can  take  us  out  of  his  hands. 
This  is  the  only  true  touchstone  of  moral  rectitude,  and  by  com- 
paring them  to  this  law,  it  is  that  men  judge  of  the  most  consi- 
derable moral  good  or  evil  of  their  actions  ;  that  is,  whether 
as  duties  or  sins,  they  are  like  to  procure  them  happiness  or  mi- 
sery from  the  hands  of  the  Almighty. 

§  9.    CIVIL   LAW,  THE   MEASURE   OF  CRIMES  AND  INNOCENCE. 

Secondly,  The  civil  law,  the  rule  set  by  the  commonwealth 
to  the  actions  of  those  who  belong  to  it,  is  another  rule,  to 
which  men  refer  their  actions,  to  judge  whether  they  be  cri- 
minal or  no.  This  law  nobody  overlooks ;  the  rewards  and 
punishments  that  enforce  it  being  ready  at  hand,  and  suitable  to 
the  power  that  makes  it;  which  is  the  force  of  the  common- 
wealth, engaged  to  protect  the  lives,  liberties,  and  possessions  of 
those  who  live  according  to  its  laws,  and  has  power  to  take 
away  life,  liberty,  or  goods,  from  him  who  disobeys  :  which  i? 
the  punishment  of  offences  committed  against  this  law. 

$    10.    PHILOSOPHICAL  LAW,  THE  MEASURE  OF  VIRTUE  AND  VICE. 

Thirdly,  The  law  of  opinion  or  reputation.  Virtue  and  vice 
are  names  pretended  and  supposed  every  where  to  stand  for 
actions  in  their  own  nature  right  and  wrong  ;  and  as  far  as  they 
really  are  so  applied,  they  so  far  are  coincident  with  the  divine 
law  above  mentioned.  But  yet  whatever  is  pretended,  (his  is 
visible,  that  these  names  virtue  and  vice,  in  the  particular  instan- 
ces of  their  application,  through  the  several  nations  and  societies 
of  men  in  the  world,  are  constantly  attributed  only  to  such  ac- 
tions, as  in  each  country  and  society  are  in  reputation  or  dis- 
credit. Nor  is  it  to  be  thought  strange,  that  men  every  where 
should  give  the  name  of  virtue  to  those  actions,  which  among 
them  are  judged  praise-worthy ;  and  call  that  vice,  which  they 
account  blamable  :  since  otherwise  they  would  condemn  them- 
selves if  they  should  think  any  thing  right,  to  which  they  allowed 
not  commendation  :  any  thing  wrong  which  they  let  pass  with- 
out blame.  Thus  the  measure  of  what  is  every  where  called 
and  esteemed  virtue  and  vice,  is  the  approbation  or  dislike, 
praise  or  blame,  which  by  a  secret  and  tacit  consent  establishes 
itself  in  the  several  societies,  tribes,  and  clubs  of  men  in  the 
world  ;  whereby  several  actions  come  to  find  credit  or  disgrace 
among  them  according  to  the  judgment,  maxims,  or  fashions  of 
that  place.  For  though  men,  uniting  to  politic  societies,  have 
resigned  up  to  the  public  the  disposing  of  all  their  force.  eo  that 


CH.  XXVIII.]  OF  MORAL  RELATIONS-  333 

they  cannot  employ  it  against  any  fellow-citizens  any  farther 
than  the  law  of  the  country  directs  ;  yet  they  retain  stiil  the 
power  of  thinking  well  or  ill,  approving  or  disapproving  of  the 
actions  of  those  whom  they  live  among,  and  converse  with  :  and 
by  this  approbation  and  dislike,  they  establish  among  themselves 
what  they  will  call  virtue  and  vice. 

§11. 

That  this  is  the  common  measure  of  virtue  and  vice,  will  ap- 
pear to  any  one  who  considers,  that  though  that  passes  for  vice 
in  one  country,  which  is  counted  a  virtue,  or  at  least  not  vice 
in  another,  yet,  every  where,  virtue  and  praise,  vice  and  blame, 
go  together.  Virtue  is  every  where  that  which  is  thought  praise- 
worthy ;  and  nothing  else  but  that  which  has  the  allowance  of 
public  esteem,  is  called  virtue.*  Virtue  and  praise  are  so  uni- 
ted, that  they  are  often  called  by  the  same  name.  Sunt  sua 
prcemia  luudi.  says  Virgil ;  and  so  Cicero,  Nihil  habet  naiura 
prcBstantius,  quam  honestatem,   qnam  laudem,   quam  dignitatem, 

*  Our  author,  in  his  preface  to  the  fourth  edition,  taking  notice  how  apt  men 
have  been  to  mistake  him,  added  what  here  follows:  Of  this  the  ingenious 
author  of  the  discourse  concerning  the  nature  of  man  has  given  me  a  late 
instance,  to  mention  no  other.  For  the  civility  of  his  expressions,  and  the  can- 
dour that  belongs  to  his  order,  forbid  me  to  think,  that  he  would  have  closed  his 
preface  with  an  insinuation,  as  if  in  what  I  had  said,  book  ii.  chap.  28,  concern- 
ing the  third  rule  which  men  refer  their  actions  to,  I  went  about  to  make  virtue 
vice,  and  vice  virtue,  unless  he  had  mistaken  my  meaning  ;  which  he  could  not 
have  done,  if  he  had  but  given  himself  the  trouble  to  consider  what  the  argu- 
ment was  I  was  then  upon,  and  what  was  the  chief  design  of  that  chapter, 
plainly  enough  set  down  in  the  fourth  section,  and  those  following.  For  I 
was  there  not  laying  down  moral  rules,  but  showing  the  original  and  nature  of 
moral  ideas,  and  enumerating  the  rules  men  make  use  of  in  moral  relations, 
whether  those  rules  were  true  or  false  :  and,  pursuant  thereunto,  1  tell  what 
has  every  where  that  denomination,  which  in  the  language  of  that  place  answers 
to  virtue  and  vice  in  ours  ;  which  alters  not  the  nature  of  things,  though  men 
do  generally  .judge  of,  and  denominate  their  actions  according  to  the  esteem 
and  fashion  of  the  place,  or  sect  they  are  of. 

If  he  had  been  at  the.  pains  to  reflect  on  what  I  had  said,  b.  i.  c.  3.  (,  18.  and  in 
this  present  chapter,  $  13,  14, 15,  and  20,  he  would  have  known  what  I  think  of 
the  eternal  and  unalterable  nature  of  right  and  wrung,  and  what  I  call  virtue 
and  vice  :  and  if  he  had  observed,  that  in  the  place  he  quotes,  I  only  report 
as  matter  of  fact  what  others  call  virtue  and  vice,  he  would  not  have  found  it. 
liable  to  any  great  exception.  For,  I  think,  I  am  not  much  out  in  saving,  that 
one  of  the  rules  made  use  of  in  the  world,  for  a  ground  or  measure  of  a  moral 
relation,  is  that  esteem  and  reputation  which  several  sorts  of  actions  find  variously 
in  the  several  societies  of  men,  according  to  which  they  are  there  called  virtues  ov 
vices  :  and  whatever  authority  the  learned  Mr.  Lowde  places  in  his  old  English 
Dictionary,  I  dare  say  it  nowhere  tells  him  (if  I  should  appeal  to  it)  that  the  same 
action  is  not  in  credit,  called  and  counted  a  virtue  in  one  place,  which  being  in 
disrepute,  passes  for  and  under  tin  name  of  vice  in  another.  The  taking  notice 
that  men  bestow  the  names  of  virtue  and  vice  according  to  this  rule  of  reputation, 
is  all  I  have  done,  or  can  be  laid  to  my  charge  to  have  done,  towards  the  making 
vice  virtue,  and  virtue  vice.  But  the  good  man  does  well,  and  as  becomes  his 
calling,  to  be  watchful  in  such  point:-,  and  to  lake  the  alarm,  even  at  expressions, 
which  standing  alone  by  themselves  might  sound  ill,  and  be  suspected. 

It  is  to  this  zeal,  allowable  in  his  function,  that  1  forgive  his  citing,  as  he  does, 
these  words  of  mine,  in  }  11,  of  this  chapter  ;  "  The  exhortations  of  inspired 
t.-achcrs  have  not  feared  to  uppeal  to  common  repute  :  '  Whatsoever  things  are 
lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report,  if  there  beany  virtue,  if  there,  bean  ^ 


Sol  OF  MOKAL  RELATIONS.  [BOOK  II. 

(juam  decus  ;  which,  he  tells  us,  are  all  names  for  the  same  thing, 
Tusc.  lib.  ii.  This  is  the  language  of  the  heathen  philosophers, 
who  well  understood  wherein  their  notions  of  virtue  and  vice 
consisted,  and  though  perhaps  by  the  different  temper,  education, 
fashion,  maxims,  or  interests  of  different  sorts  of  men,  it  fell  out 
that  what  was  thought  praise-worthy  in  one  place,  escaped  not 
censure  in  another ;  and  so  in  different  societies,  virtues  and  vices 
were  changed ;  yet,  as  to  the  main,  they  for  the  most  part  kept 
the  same  every  where.     For  since  nothing  can  be  more  natural 

praise,  &c.  Phil.  iv.  8."  without  taking  notice  of  those  immediately  preceding', 
which  introduce  them,  and  run  thus  :  "  whereby  in  the  corruption  of  manners,  the 
true  boundaries  of  the  law  of  nature,  which  ought  to  be  the  rule  of  virtue  and  vice, 
were  pretty  well  preserved;  so  that  even  the  exhortations  of  inspired  teachers,'"  &c. 
by  which  words,  and  the  rest  of  that  section,  it  is  plain  that  1  brought  that  passage 
of  St.  Paul,  not  to  prove  that  the  general  measure  of  what  men  call  virtue  and  vice, 
throughout  the  world,  was  the  reputation  and  fashion  of  each  particular  society 
within  itself;  but  to  show,  that  though  it  were  so,  yet  for  reasons  I  there  give, 
men,  in  that  way  of  denominating  their  actions,  did  not  for,  the  most  part,  much 
vary  from  the  law  of  nature  :  which  is  that  standing  and  unalterable  rule,  by 
which  they  ought  to  judge  of  the  moral  rectitude  and  pravity  of  their  actions, 
and  accordingly  denominate  them  virtues  or  vices.  Had  Mr.  Lowde  consi- 
dered this,  he  would  have  found  it  little  to  his  purpose  to  have  quoted  Uiat  pas- 
sage in  a  sense  I  used  it  not ;  and  would,  I  imagine,  have  spared  the  explication 
he  subjoins  to  it,  as  not  very  necessary.  But  1  hope  this  second  edition  will  give 
him  satisfaction  in  the  point,  and  that  this  matter  is  now  so  expressed,  as  to  show 
him  there  was  no  cause  of  scruple. 

Though  I  am  forced  to  differ  from  him  in  those  apprehensions  he  has  expressed 
in  the  latter  end  of  his  preface,  concerning  what  I  had  said  about  virtue  and  vice  ; 
yet  we  are  better  agreed  than  he  thinks,  in  what  he  says  in  his  third  chapter,  p. 
78.  concerning  natural  inscription  and  innate  notions.  I  shall  not  deny  him  the 
privilege  he  claims,  p.  52.  to  state  the  question  as  he  pleases,  especially  when  he 
states  it  so,  as  to  leave  nothing  in  it  contrary  to  what  I  have  said  ;  for,  according 
to  him,  innate  notions  being  conditional  things,  depending  upon  the  concurrence 
of  several  other  circumstances,  in  order  to  the  soul's  exerting  them  :  all  that  he 
says  for  innate,  imprinted,  impressed  notions  (for  of  innate  ideas  he  says  nothing 
at  all)  amounts  at  last  only  to  this :  that  there  are  certain  propositions,  which 
though  the  soul  from  the  beginning,  or  when  a  man  is  born,  does  not  know,  yet 
by  assistance  from  the  outward  senses,  and  the  help  of  some  previous  cultivation, 
it  may  afterward  come  certainly  to  know  the  truth  of;  which:  is  no  more  than 
what  I  have  affirmed  in  my  first  book.  For  1  suppose,  by  the  soul's  exerting 
them,  he  means  its  beginning  to  know  them,  or  else  the  soul's  exerting  of  notions 
will  be  to  me  a  very  unintelligible  expression  ;  and  I  think  at  best  is  a  very  unfit 
one  in  this  case,  it  misleading  men's  thoughts  by  an  insinuation,  a3  if  these  no- 
tions were  in  the  mind  before  the  soul  exerts  them,  i.  e.  before  they  are  known  ; 
whereas  truly  before  they  are  known,  there  is  nothing  of  them  in  the  mind,  but  u 
capacity  to  know  them,  when  the  concurrence  of  those  circumstances,  which  this 
ingenious  author  thinks  necessary  in  order  to  the  soul's  exerting  them,  brings 
them  into  our  knowledge. 

P.  52.  I  find  him  express  it  thus  ;  "  these  natural  notions  are  not  so  imprinted 
upon  the  soul,  as  that  they  naturally  and  necessarily  exert  themselves  (even  in 
children  and  idiots)  without  any  assistance  from  the  outward  seuses,  or  without 
ihehelp  of  some  previous  cultivation."  Here,  he  says,  they  exert  themselves,  as 
p.  78.  that  the  soul  exerts  them.  When  he  has  explained  to  himself  or  others 
what  he  means  by  the  soul's  exerting  innate  notions,  or  their  exerting  themselves, 
and  what  that  previous  cultivation  and  circumstances,  in  order  to  their  being 
exerted,  arc ;  he  will,  I  suppose,  find  there  is  so  little  of  controversy  between 
him  and  me  in  the  point,  bating  that  he  calls  that  exerting  of  notions  which 
I  in  a  more  vulgar  style  call  knowing,  that  I  have  reason  to  think  he  brought  in 
my  name  upon  this  occasion  only  out  of  the  pleasure  he  has  to  speak  civillyol 
me  :  which  I  must  gratefully  acknowledge  he  has  done  wherever  he  mentions  me, 
not  without  conferring  on  me.  as  some  other-  have  done,  a  title  I  have  no  right  to. 


CH.  XXVIII.]  OF  MORAL  RELATIONS.  6oO 

than  to  encourage  with  esteem  and  reputation  that  wherein  every 
one  finds  his  advantage,  and  to  blame  and  discountenance  the 
contrary  ;  it  is  no  wonder  that  esteem  and  discredit,  virtue  and 
vice,  should  in  a  great  measure  every  where  correspond  with 
the  unchangeable  rule  of  right  and  wrong,  which  the  law  of  God 
hath  established  :  there  being  nothing  that  so  directly  and  visi- 
bly secures  and  advances  the  general  good  of  mankind  in  this 
world,  as  obedience  to  the  laws  he  has  set  them  ;  and  nothing 
that  breeds  such  mischiefs  and  confusion,  as  the  neglect  of  them. 
And  therefore  men,  without  renouncing  all  sense  and  reason,  and 
their  own  interest,  which  they  are  so  constantly  true  to,  could 
not  generally  mistake  in  placing  their  commendation  and  blame 
on  that  side  that  really  deserved  it  not.  Nay,  even  those  men 
whose  practice  was  otherwise,  failed  not  to  give  their  approbation 
right ;  few  being  depraved  to  that  degree,  as  not  to  condemn,  at 
least  in  others,  the  faults  they  themselves  were  guilty  of:  where- 
by, even  in  the  corruption  of  manners,  the  true  boundaries  of  the 
law  of  nature,  which  ought  to  be  the  rule  of  virtue  and  vice,  were 
pretty  well  preferred.  So  that  even  the  exhortations  of  inspired 
teachers  have  not  feared  to  appeal  to  common  repute  :  "  What- 
soever is  lovely,  whatsoever  is  of  good  report,  if  there  be  any 
virtue,  if  there  be  any  praise,"  &c.  Phil.  iv.  8. 

§    12.    ITS  ENFORCEMENTS,  COMMENDATION,  AND  DISCREDIT. 

If  any  one  shall  imagine  that  1  have  forgot  my  own  notion  of  a 
law,  when  1  make  the  law  whereby  men  judge  of  virtue  and 
vice,  to  be  nothing  else  but  the  consent  of  private  men,  who 
have  not  authority  enough  to  make  a  law;  especially  wanting 
that,  which  is  so  necessary  and  essential  to  a  law,  a  power  to 
enforce  it :  I  think  I  may  say,  that  he  who  imagines  commenda- 
tion and  disgrace  not  to  be  strong  motives  to  men,  to  accommo- 
date themselves  to  the  opinions  and  rules  of  those  with  whom 
they  converse,  seems  little  skilled  in  the  nature  or  history  of 
mankind  :  the  greatest  part  whereof  he  shall  find  to  govern 
themselves  chiefly,  if  not  solely,  by  this  law  of  fashion ;  and  so 
they  do  that  which  keeps  them  in  reputation  with  their  company, 
little  regard  the  laws  of  God,  or  the  magistrate.  The  penalties 
that  attend  the  breach  of  God's  laws,  some,  nay  perhaps  most 
men,  seldom  seriously  reflect  on  ;  and  among  those  that  do, 
many,  whilst  they  break  that  law,  entertain  thoughts  of  future 
reconciliation,  and  making  their  peace  for  such  breaches.  And 
as  to  the  punishments  due  from  the  laws  of  the  commonwealth, 
they  frequently  flatter  themselves  with  the  hopes  of  impunity. 
But  no  man  escapes  the  punishment  of  their  censure  and  dislike, 
who  offends  against  the  fashion  and  opinion  of  the  company  he 
keeps,  and  would  recommend  himself  to.  Nor  is  there  one  of 
ten  thousand,  who  is  stiifand  insensible  enough  to  bear  up  under 
the  constant  dislike  and  condemnation  of  his  own  club.  He 
must  be  of  a  strange  and  unusual  constitution,  who  can  content 
himself  to  live  in  constant  disgrace  and  disrepute  with  hi?  own 


3JU  OF  MORAL  RELATIONS.  [BOOK  II. 

particular  society.  Solitude  many  men  have  sought,  and  been 
reconciled  to  :  but  nobody,  that  lias  the  least  thought  or  sense 
of  a  man  about  him,  can  live  in  society  under  the  constant  dis- 
like and  ill  opinion  of  his  familiars,  and  those  he  converses 
with.  This  is  a  burden  too  heavy  for  human  sufferance ;  and  he 
must  be  made  of  irreconcilable  contradictions,  who  can  take 
pleasure  in  company,  and  yet  be  insensible  of  contempt  and  dis- 
grace from  his  companions. 

§    13.    THESE  THREE   LAWS,  THE   RULES  OF   MORAL  GOOD  AND  EVrIL. 

These  three  then,  First,  The  law  of  God;  Secondly,  The  law 
of  politic  societies;  Thirdly,  The  law  of  fashion,  or  private  cen- 
sure, are  those  to  which  men  variously  compare  their  actions  ; 
and  it  is  by  their  conformity  to  one  of  these  laws,  that  they  take 
their  measures,  when  they  would  judge  of  their  moral  rectitude, 
and  denominate  their  actions  good  or  bad. 

§  14.    MORALITY  IS    THE  RELATION  OF  ACTIONS  TO   THESE  RULES. 

Whether  the  rule,  to  which,  as  to  a  touchstone,  we  bring  our 
voluntary  actions,  to  examine  them  by,  and  try  their  goodness, 
and  accordingly  to  name  them ;  which  is,  as  it  were,  the  mark  of 
the  value  we  set  upon  them  :  whether,  I  say,  we  take  that  rule 
from  the  fashion  of  the  country,  or  the  will  of  a  law-maker,  the 
mind  is  easily  able  to  observe  the  relation  any  action  hath  to 
it,  and  to  judge  whether  the  action  agrees  or  disagrees  with  the 
rule ;  and  so  hath  a  notion  of  moral  goodness  or  evil,  which  is 
either  conformity  or  not  conformity  of  any  action  to  that  rule  : 
and  therefore  is  often  called  moral  rectitude.  This  rule  being 
nothing  but  a  collection  of  several  simple  ideas,  the  conformity 
thereto  is  but  so  ordering  the  action,  that  the  simple  ideas 
belonging  to  it  may  correspond  to  those  which  the  law  requires. 
And  thus  we  see  how  moral  beings  and  notions  are  founded  on, 
and  terminated  in,  these  simple  ideas  we  have  received  from 
sensation  or  reflection.  For  example,  let  us  consider  the  com- 
plex idea  we  signify  by  the  word  murder ;  and  when  we  have 
taken  it  asunder,  and  examined  all  the  particulars,  we  shall 
find  them  to  amount  to  a  collection  of  simple  ideas  derived 
from  reflection  or  sensation,  viz.  First,  From  reflection  on  the 
operations  of  our  own  minds,  we  have  the  ideas  of  willing, 
considering,  purposing,  before  hand,  malice,  or  wishing  ill  to 
another;  and  also  of  life,  or  perception,  and  self  motion.  Se- 
condly, From  sensation  we  have  the  collection  of  those  simple 
sensible  ideas  which  are  to  be  found  in  a  man,  and  of  some  ac- 
tion, whereby  we  put  an  end  to  perception  and  motion  in  a  man  ; 
all  which  simple  ideas  are  comprehended  in  the  word  murder. 
This  collection  of  simple  ideas  being  found  by  me  to  agree  or 
disagree  with  the  esteem  of  the  country  1  have  been  bred  in,  and 
to  be  held  by  most  men  there  worthy  praise  or  blame,  I  call  the 
action  virtuous  or  vicious  :  if  I  have  the  will  of  a  supreme  invi- 
sible Law-maker  for  my  rule:  then,  as  !  supposed  the  action  com- 


CH.  XXVlH.j  OV  MORAL  RELATIONS.  337 

manded  or  forbidden  by  God,  I  call  it  good  or  evil,  sin  or  duty  : 
and  if  I  compare  it  to  the  civil  law,  the  rule  made  by  the  legisla- 
tive power  of  the  country,  I  call  it  lawful  or  unlawful,  a  crime  or 
no  crime.  So  that  whencesoever  we  take  the  rule  of  moral 
actions,  or  by  what  standard  soever  we  frame  in  our  minds  the 
ideas  of  virtues  or  vices,  they  consist  only  and  are  made  up  of 
collections  of  simple  ideas,  which  we  originally  received  from 
sense  or  reflection,  and  their  rectitude  or  obliquity  consists  in  the 
agreement  or  disagreement  with  those  patterns  prescribed  by 
some  law. 

§15. 

To  conceive  rightly  of  moral  actions,  we  must  take  notice 
of  them  under  this  twofold  consideration.  First,  as  they  are  in 
themselves  each  made  up  of  such  a  collection  of  simple  ideas. 
Thus  drunkenness,  or  lying,  signify  such  or  such  a  collection  of 
simple  ideas,  which  I  call  mixed  modes  ;  and  in  this  sense  they 
are  as  much  positive  absolute  ideas  as  the  drinking  of  a  horse,  or 
speaking  of  a  parrot.  Secondly,  our  actions  are  considered  as 
good,  bad,  or  indifferent ;  and  in  this  respect  they  are  relative, 
it  being  their  conformity  to,  or  disagreement  with,  some  rule  that 
makes  them  to  be  regular  or  irregular,  good  or  bad,  and  so  as 
far  as  they  are  compared  with  a  rule,  and  thereupon  denomina- 
ted, they  come  under  relation.  Thus  the  challenging  and 
righting  with  a  man,  as  it  is  a  certain  positive  mode,  or  particular 
sort  of  action,  by  particular  ideas,  distinguished  from  all  others,, 
is  called  duelling  ;  which  when  considered  in  relation  to  the  law 
of  God,  will  deserve  the  name  sin  ;  to  the  law  of  fas  in 

some  countries,  valour  and  virtue  ;  and  to  the  municipal  laws 
of  some  governments,  a  capital  crime.  In  this  case,  when  the 
positive  mode  has  one  name,  and  another  name  as  it  stands  in 
relation  to  the  law,  the  distinction  may  as  easily  be  observed  as 
it  is  in  substances,  where  one  name,  v.  g.  man,  is  used  to  signify 
the  thing;  another,  v.  g.  father,  to  signify  the  relation. 

§   16.    THE   DENOMINATIONS  OF  ACTIONS  OFTEN  MISLEAD  VS. 

But  because  very  frequently  the  positive  idea  of  the  action, 
and  its  moral  relation,  are  comprehended  together  under  one 
name,  and  the  same  word  made  use  of  to  express  both  the  mode 
or  action,  and  its  moral  rectitude  or  obliquity  ;  therefore  the 
relation  itself  is  less  taken  notice  of,  and  there  is  often  no  dis- 
tinction made  between  the  positive  idea  of  the  action,  and  the 
reference  it  has  to  a  rule.  By  which  confusion  of-  these  two 
distinct  considerations  under  one  term,  those  who  yield  too 
easily  to  the  impressions  of  sounds,  and  are  forward  to  take 
names  for  things,  arc  often  misled  in  their  judgment  pf  actions. 
Thus  the  taking  from  another  what  is  his,  without  his  know- 
ledge or  allowance,  is  properly  called  stealing  ;  but  that  name 
being  commonly  understood  to  signify  also  the  moral  pravity  of 

Vol.  F. 


338  OJF  MORAL  RELATIONS.  [BOOK  II. 

the  action,  and  to  denote  its  contrariety  to  the  law,  men  are  apt 
to  condemn  whatever  they  hear  called  stealing  as  an  ill  action, 
disagreeing  with  the  rule  of  right.  And  yet  the  private  taking 
away  his  sword  from  a  madman,  to  prevent  his  doing  mischief, 
though  it  be  properly  denominated  stealing,  as  the  name  of  such 
a  mixed  mode  ;  yet  when  compared  to  the  law  of  God,  and  con- 
sidered in  its  relation  to  that  supreme  rule,  it  is  no  sin  or  trans- 
gression, though  the  name  stealing  ordinarily  carries  such  an  inti- 
mation with  it. 

§   17.    RELATIONS  INNUMERABLE. 

And  thus  much  for  the  relation  of  human  actions  to  a  law. 
which  therefore  I  call  moral  relation. 

It  would  make  a  volume  to  go  over  all  sorts  of  relations;  it  is 
not  therefore  to  be  expected  that  I  should  here  mention  them  all. 
It  suffices  to  our  present  purpose  to  show  by  these  what  the 
ideas  are  we  have  of  this  comprehensive  consideration,  called 
relation  :  which  is  so  various,  and  the  occasions  of  it  so  many 
(as  many  as  there  can  be  of  comparing  things  one  to  another,) 
that  it  is  not  very  easy  to  reduce  it  to  rules,  or  under  just  heads. 
Those  I  have  mentioned,  I  think,  are  some  of  the  most  consider- 
able, and  such  as  may  serve  to  let  us  see  from  whence  we  get 
our  ideas  of  relations,  and  wherein  they  are  founded.  But 
before  1  quit  this  argument,  from  what  has  been  said,  give  me 
leave  to  observe, 

§   18.    ALL  RELATIONS  TERMINATE  IN  SIMPLE  IDEAS. 

First,  That  it  is  evident  that  all  relation  terminates  in,  and  is 
ultimately  founded  on,  those  simple  ideas  we  have  got  from 
sensation  or  reflection :  so  that  all  that  we  have  in  our  thoughts 
ourselves  (if  we  think  of  any  thing,  or  have  any  meaning)  or 
would  signify  to  others,  when  we  use  words  standing  for  relations, 
is  nothing  but  some  simple  ideas,  or  collections  of  simple  ideas, 
compared  one  with  another.  This  is  so  manifest  in  that  sort 
called  proportional,  that  nothing  can  be  more:  for  when  a  man 
says  honey  is  sweeter  than  wax,  it  is  plain  that  his  thoughts,  in 
this  relation,  terminate  in  this  simple  idea,  sweetness,  which  is 
equally  true  of  all  the  rest ;  though  where  they  are  compounded 
or  decompounded,  the  simple  ideas  they  are  made  up  of  are, 
perhaps,  seldom  taken  notice  of.  V.  g.  when  the  word  father  is 
mentioned  ;  first,  there  is  meant  that  particular  species,  or  col- 
lective idea,  signified  by  the  word  man.  Secondly,  those  sensi- 
ble simple  ideas,  signified  by  the  word  generation ;  and,  thirdly, 
the  effects  of  it,  and  all  the  simple  ideas  signified  by  the  word 
child.  So  the  word  friend  being  taken  for  a  man,  who  loves, 
and  is  ready  to  do  good  to  another,  has  all  these  following  ideas 
to  the  making  of  it  up ;  first,  all  the  simple  ideas,  comprehended 
in  the  word  man,  or  intelligent  being.  Secondly,  the  idea  of 
love.     Thirdly,  the  idea  of  readiness  or  disposition.     Fourthly- 


XXVIII.]  OP  MORAL  RELATION.-.  339 

the  idea  of  action,  which  is  any  kind  of  thought  or  motion. 
Fifthly,  the  idea  of  good,  which  signifies  any  thing  that  may 
advance  his  happiness,  and  terminates,  at  last,  if  examined,  in 
particular  simple  ideas  ;  of  which  the  word  good  in  general 
signifies  any  one,  but,  if  removed  from  all  simple  ideas  quite,  it 
signifies  nothing  at  all.  And  thus  also  all  moral  words  terminate 
at  last,  though  perhaps  more  remotely,  in  a  collection  of  simple 
ideas  :  the  immediate  signification  of  relative  words  being  very 
often  other  supposed  known  relations,  which,  if  traced  one  to 
another,  still  end  in  simple  ideas. 

§   19.    WE   HAVE  ORDINARILY  AS  CLEAR   (oR  CLEARER)   A  NOTION  Of 
THE  RELATION,  AS  OF  ITS   FOUNDATION. 

Secondly,  That  in  relations  we  have  for  the  most  part,  if  not 
always,  as  clear  a  notion  of  the  relation,  as  we  have  of  those 
simple  ideas  wherein  it  is  founded.  Agreement  or  disagreement, 
whereon  relation  depends,  being  things  whereof  we  have  com- 
monly as  clear  ideas  as  of  any  other  whatsoever;  it  being  bul: 
the  distinguishing  simple  ideas,  or  their  degrees  one  from  another, 
without  which  we  could  have  no  distinct  knowledge  at  all.  For 
if  I  have  a  clear  idea  of  sweetness,  light  or  extension,  1  have  too 
of  equal,  or  more  or  less,  of  each  of  these  :  if  I  know  what  it  is 
for  one  man  to  be  born  of  a  woman,  viz.  Sempronia,  I  know 
what  it  is  for  another  man  to  be  born  of  the  same  woman  Sem- 
pronia ;  and  so  have  as  clear  a  notion  of  brothers  as  of  births, 
and  perhaps  clearer.  For  if  I  believed  that  Sempronia  dug 
Titus  out  of  the  parsley-bed  (as  they  used  to  tell  children)  and 
thereby  became  his  mother  :  and  that  afterward,  in  the  same 
manner,  she  dug  Caius  out  of  the  parsley-bed  ;  I  had  as  clear  a 
notion  of  the  relation  of  brothers  between  them,  as  if  I  had  all 
the  skill  of  a  midwife  :  the  notion  that  the  same  woman  contri- 
buted, as  mother,  equally  to  their  births,  (though  I  were  ignorant 
or  mistaken  in  the  manner  of  it)  being  that  on  which  I  grounded 
the  relation,  and  that  they  agreed  in  that  circumstance  of  birth, 
let  it  be  what  it  will.  The  comparing  them  then,  in  their  descent 
from  the  same  person,  without  knowing  the  particular  circum- 
stances of  that  descent,  is  enough  to  found  my  notion  of  their 
having  or  not  having  the  relation  of  brothers.  But  though  the 
ideas  of  particular  relations  are  capable  of  being  as  clear  and 
distinct  in  the  minds  of  those  who  will  duly  consider  them  as  those 
of  mixed  modes,  and  more  determinate  than  those  of  substances  ; 
yet  the  names  belonging  to  relation  are  often  of  as  doubtful  and 
uncertain  signification  as  those  of  substances  or  mixed  modes, 
and  much  more  than  those  of  simple  ideas;  because  relative 
words  being  the  marks  of  this  comparison,  which  is  made  only 
by  men's  thoughts,  and  is  an  idea  only  in  men's  minds,  men  fre- 
quently apply  them  to  different  comparisons  of  things,  according 
to  their  own  imaginations,  which  do  not  always  correspond  with 
those  of  others  using  the  same  name. 


340  OF  DISTINCT  AND  CONFUSED  IDEAS.  [BOOK  II. 

§  20.  THE  NOTION  OF  THE  RELATION  IS  THE  SAME,  WHETHER  THE 
RULE  ANY  ACTION  IS  COMPARED  TO  BE  TRUE  OR  FALSE. 

Thirdly,  That  in  these  I  call  moral  relations  I  have  a  true 
notion  of  relation,  by  comparing  the  action  with  the  rule, 
whether  the  rule  be  true  or  false.  For  if  1  measure  any  thing  by 
a  yard,  I  know  whether  the  thing  I  measure  be  longer  or  shorter 
than  that  supposed  yard,  though  perhaps  the  yard  I  measure  by 
be  not  exactly  the  standard,  which  indeed  is  another  inquiry  :  for 
though  the  rule  be  erroneous,  and  I  mistaken  in  it,  yet  the 
agreement  or  disagreement  observable  in  that  which  I  compare 
with  makes  me  perceive  the  relation.  Though  measuring  by  a 
wrong  rule,  I  shall  thereby  be  brought  to  judge  amiss  of  its  moral 
rectitude,  because  I  have  tried  it  by  that  which  is  not  the  true, 
rule  ;  yet  I  am  not  mistaken  in  the  relation  which  that  action 
bears  to  that  rule  I  compare  it  to,  which  is  agreement  or  disa- 
greement. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

OF  CLEAR  AND  OBSCURE,  DISTINCT  AND  CONFUSED  IDEAS* 

§   1.    IDEAS  SOME  CLEAR  AND  DISTINCT,  OTHERS  OBSCURE  AND  CONFUSED. 

Having  shown  the  original  of  our  ideas,  and  taken  a  view  of 
their  several  sorts,  considered  the  difference  between  the  simple 
and  the  complex,  and  observed  how  the  complex  ones  are  divided 
into  those  of  modes,  substances,  and  relations  ;  all  which,  I  think, 
is  necessary  to  be  done  by  any  one  who  would  acquaint  himself 
thoroughly  with  the  progress  of  the  mind  in  its  apprehension 
and  knowledge  of  things ;  it  will,  perhaps,  be  thought  I  have 
dwelt  long  enough  upon  the  examination  of  ideas.  I  must, 
nevertheless,  crave  leave  to  offer  some  few  other  considerations 
concerning  them.  The  first  is,  that  some  are  clear,  and  others 
obscure  ;  some  distinct,  and  others  confused. 

§  2.    CLEAR  AND  OBSCURE  EXPLAINED  BY  SIGHT. 

The  perception  of  the  mind  being  most  aptly  explained  by 
words  relating  to  the  sight,  we  shall  best  understand  what  is  meant 
by  clear  and  obscure  in  our  ideas  by  reflecting  on  what  we  call 
clear  and  obscure  in  the  objects  of  sight.  Light  being  that  which 
discovers  to  us  visible  objects,  we  give  the  name  of  obscure  to 
that  which  is  not  placed  in  a  light  sufficient  to  discover  minutely 
to  us  the  figure  and  colours,  which  are  observable  in  it,  and 
which,  in  a  better  light,  would  be  discernible.  In  like  manner 
our  simple  ideas  are  clear  when  they  are  such  as  the  objects  them- 
selves, from  whence  they  were  taken,  did  or  might,  in  a.  well- 
ordered  sensation  or  perception,  present  them.      Whilst   the 


CH.   XXIX.]  OF  DISTINCT  AND  CONFUSED  IDEAS.  341 

memory  retains  them  thus,  and  can  produce  them  to  the  mind, 
whenever  it  has  occasion  to  consider  them,  they  are  clear  ideas. 
So  far  as  they  either  want  any  thing  of  the  original  exactness,  or 
have  lost  any  of  their  first  freshness,  and  are,  as  it  were,  faded 
or  tarnished  by  time  ;  so  far  are  they  obscure.  Complex  ideas, 
as  they  are  made  up  of  simple  ones,  so  they  are  clear  when  the 
ideas  that  go  to  their  composition  are  clear  ;  and  the  number  and 
order  of  those  simple  ideas,  that  are  the  ingredients  of  any 
complex  one,  is  determinate  and  certain. 

§   3.    CAUSES  OF  OBSCURITV. 

The  causes  of  obscurity  in  simple  idea?  seem  to  be  either  dull 
organs,  or  very  slight  and  transient  impressions  made  "by  the 
objects,  or  else  a  weakness  in  the  memory  not  able  to  retain  them 
as  received.  For  to  return  again  to  visible  objects,  to  help  us 
to  apprehend  this  matter:  if  the  organs  or  faculties  of  percep- 
tion, like  wax  over-hardened  with  cold,  will  not  receive  the 
impression  of  the  seal,  from  the  usual  impulse  wont  to  imprint 
it ;  or,  like  wax  of  a  temper  too  soft,  will  not  hold  it  well  when 
well  imprinted  ;  or  else  supposing  the  wax  of  a  temper  fit,  but 
the  seal  not  applied  with  a  sufficient  force  to  make  a  clear 
impression  :  in  any  of  these  cases,  the  print  left  by  the  seal  will 
be  obscure.  This,  I  suppose,  needs  no  application  to  make  it 
plainer. 

§  4.    DISTINCT  AND  CONFUSED,  WHAT. 

As  a  clear  idea  is  that  whereof  the  mind  has  such  a  full  and 
evident  perception,  as  it  does  receive  from  an  outward  object 
operating  duly  on  a  well-disposed  organ  ;  so  a  distinct  idea  is 
that  wherein  the  mind  perceives  a  difference  from  all  other; 
and  a  confused  idea  is  such  a  one  as  is  not  sufficiently  distin- 
guishable from  another,  from  which  it  ought  to  be  different. 

§   5.    OBJECTION. 

If  no  idea  be  confused  but  such  as  is  not  sufficiently  distin- 
guishable from  another,  from  which  it  should  be  different ;  it 
will  be  hard,  may  any  one  say,  to  find  any  where  a  confused 
idea.  For  let  any  idea  be  as  it  will,  it  can  be  no  other  but  such 
as  the  mind  perceives  it  to  be  ;  and  that  very  perception  suffi- 
ciently distinguishes  it  from  all  other  ideas,  which  cannot  be 
other,  i.  c.  different,  without  being  perceived  to  be  so.  No  idea 
therefore  can  be  undistinguishable  from  another,  from  which  it 
ought  to  be  different,  unless  you  would  have  it  different  from 
itself:  for  from  all  other  it  is  evidently  different. 

§  6.    CONFUSION  OF  IDEAS  IS  IN  REFERENCE  TO  THEIR  NAMES. 

To  remove  this  difficulty,  and  to  help  us  to  conceive  aright 
what  it  is  that  makes  the  confusion  ideas  are  at  any  time  charge- 
able with,  we  must  consider,  that  things  ranked  under  distinct 


M"Z  OF  DISTINCT  AND  CONFUSED  IDEAS.  [BOOK  II, 

names  are  suppposed  different  enough  to  be  distinguished,  that 
so  each  sort  by  its  peculiar  name  may  be  marked,  and  dis- 
coursed of  apart  upon  any  occasion  :  and  there  is  nothing  more 
evident,  than  that  the  greatest  part  of  different  names  are  sup- 
posed to  stand  for  different  things.  Now  every  idea  a  man  has 
being  visibly  what  it  is,  and  distinct  from  all  other  ideas  but 
itself,  that  which  makes  it  confused  is,  when  it  is  such,  that  it 
may  as  well  be  called  by  another  name  as  that  which  it  is 
expressed  by:  the  difference  which  keeps  the  things  (to  be 
ranked  under  those  two  different  names)  distinct,  and  makes 
some  of  them  belong  rather  to  the  one,  and  some  of  them  to  the 
other  of  those  names,  being  left  out ;  and  so  the  distinction, 
which  was  intended  to  be  kept  up  by  those  different  names  is 
quite  lost. 

§  7.    DEFAULTS  WHICH  MAKE  CONFUSION. 

The  defaults  which  usually  occasion  this  confusion,  I  think,  are 
chiefly  these  following : 

FIRST,  COMPLEX  IDEAS  MADE  UP  OF  TOO  FEW  SIMPLE  ONES. 

First,  when  any  complex  idea  (for  it  is  complex  ideas  that  are 
most  liable  to  confusion)  is  made  up  of  too  small  a  number  of 
simple  ideas,  and  such  only  as  are  common  to  other  things, 
whereby  the  differences  that  make  it  deserve  a  different  name 
are  left  out.  Thus  he  that  has  an  idea  made  up  of  barely  the 
simple  ones  of  a  beast  with  spots,  has  but  a  confused  idea  of  a 
leopard :  it  not  being  thereby  sufficiently  distinguished  from  a 
lynx,  and  several  other  sorts  of  beasts  that  are  spotted.  So  that, 
such  an  idea,  though  it  hath  the  peculiar  name  leopard,  is  not 
distinguishable  from  those  designed  by  the  names  lynx  or  panther, 
and  may  as  well  come  under  the  name  lynx  as  leopard.  How 
much  the  custom  of  defining  of  words  by  general  terms  contri- 
butes to  make  the  ideas  we  would  express  by  them  confused  and 
undetermined,  I  leave  others  to  consider.  This  is  evident,  that 
confused  ideas  are  such  as  render  the  use  of  words  uncertain, 
and  take  away  the  benefit  of  distinct  names.  When  the  ideas, 
for  which  we  use  different  terms,  have  not  a  difference  answer- 
able to  their  distinct  names,  and  so  cannot  be  distinguished  by 
them,  there  it  is  that  they  are  truly  confused. 

§  8.  SECONDLY,   OR  ITS  SIMPLE  ONES  JUMBLED  DISORDERLY  TOGETHER. 

Secondly,  Another  fault  which  makes  our  ideas  confused  is, 
when  though  the  particulars  that  make  up  any  idea  are  in  num- 
ber enough  :  yet  they  are  so  jumbled  together,  that  it  is  not  easily 
discernible  whether  it  more  belongs  to  the  name  that  is  given  it 
than  to  any  other.  There  is  nothing  properer  to  make  us  con- 
ceive this  confusion,  than  a  sort  of  pictures  usually  shown  as 
surprising  pieces  of  art,  wherein  the  colours,  as  they  are  laid 
by  the  pencil  on  the  table  itself,  mark  out  very  odd  and  unusual 


t  H.  XXIX.  J  OF  DISTINCT  AND  CONFUSED  IDEAS,  34$ 

figures,  and  have  no  discernible  order  in  their  position.  This 
draught,  thus  made  up  of  parts  wherein  no  symmetry  nor  order 
appears,  is  in  itself  no  more  a  confused  thing  than  the  picture 
of  a  cloudy  sky ;  wherein  though  there  be  as  little  order  of 
colours  or  figures  to  be  found,  yet  nobody  thinks  it  a  confused 
picture.  What  is  it  then  that  makes  it  be  thought  confused,  since 
the  want  of  symmetry  does  not  ?  as  it  is  plain  it  does  not,  for 
another  draught  made,  barely  in  imitation  of  this,  could  not  be 
called  confused.  I  answer,  that  which  makes  it  be  thought  con- 
fused is  the  applying  it  to  some  name  to  which  it  does  no  more 
discernibly  belong  than  to  some  other  :  v.  g.  when  it  is  said  to 
be  the  picture  of  a  man,  or  Caesar,  then  any  one  with  reason 
counts  it  confused:  because  it  is  not  discernible  in  that  state  to 
belong  more  to  the  name  man,  or  Caesar,  than  to  the  name 
baboon,  or  Pompey  ;  which  are  supposed  to  stand  for  different 
ideas  from  those  signified  by  man  or  Caesar.  But  when  a 
cylindrical  mirror,  placed  right,  hath  reduced  those  irregular 
lines  on  the  table  into  their  due  order  and  proportion,  then  the 
confusion  ceases,  and  the  eye  presently  sees  that  it  is  a  man,  or 
Caesar,  i.  e.  that  it  belongs  to  those  names,  and  that  it  is  suffi- 
ciently distinguishable  from  a  baboon,  or  Pompey,  i.  e.  from  the 
ideas  signified  by  those  names.  Just  thus  it  is  with  our  ideas, 
which  are  as  it  were  the  pictures  of  things.  No  one  of  these 
mental  draughts,  however  the  parts  are  put  together,  can  be  call- 
ed confused  (for  they  are  plainly  discernible  as  they  are)  till  it  be 
ranked  under  some  ordinary  name  to  which  it  cannot  be  discerned 
to  belong,  any  more  than  it  does  to  some  othername  of  an  allowed 
different  signification. 

§   9.    THIRDLY,  OR  ARE  MUTABLE  AND  UNDETERMINED. 

Thirdly,  A  third  defect  that  frequently  gives  the  name  of  con- 
fused to  our  ideas,  is  when  any  one  of  them  is  uncertain  and 
undetermined.  Thus  we  may  observe  men,  who,  not  forbearing 
to  use  the  ordinary  words  of  their  language  till  they  have  learned 
their  precise  signification,  change  the  idea  they  make  this  or  that 
term  stand  for,  almost  as  often  as  they  use  it.  He  that  does  this, 
out  of  uncertainty  of  what  he  should  leave  out,  or  put  into  his  idea 
of  church  or  idolatry,  every  time  he  thinks  of  either,  and  holds 
not  steady  to  any  one  precise  combination  of  ideas  that  makes  it 
up,  is  said  to  have  a  confused  idea  of  idolatry  or  the  church  ; 
though  this  be  still  for  the  same  reason  as  the  former,  viz.  because 
a  mutable  idea,  (if  we  will  allow  it  to  be  one  idea)  cannot  belong 
to  one  name  rather  than  another ;  and  so  loses  the  distinction 
that  distinct  names  are  designed  for. 

§    10.     CONFUSION,     WITHOUT     REFERENCE     TO    NAMES,    HARDLY    CON' 

CEIVABLE. 

By  what  has  been  said,  we  may  observe  how  much  names,  as 
supposed  steady  signs  of  things,  and  by  their  difference  to  stand 
for  and  keep  things  distinct  that  in  themselves  are  different,  are" 


344  OF  DISTINCT  AND  CONFUSED  IDEAS.  [BOOK  IK 

the  occasion  of  denominating  ideas  distinct  or  confused,  by  a 
secret  and  unobserved  reference  the  mind  makes  of  its  ideas  to 
such  names.  This  perhaps  will  be  fuller  understood  after  what 
I  say  of  words,  in  the  third  book,  has  been  read  and  considered. 
But  without  taking  notice  of  such  a  reference  of  ideas  to  distinct 
names,  as  the  signs  of  distinct  things,  it  will  be  hard  to  say  what 
a  confused  idea  is.  And  therefore  when  a  man  designs,  by  any 
name,  a  sort  of  things,  or  any  one  particular  thing,  distinct  from 
all  others  ;  the  complex  idea  he  annexes  to  that  name  is  the  more 
distinct,  the  more  particular  the  ideas  are,  and  the  greater  and 
more  determinate  the  number  and  order  of  them  is,  whereof  it  is 
made  up.  For  the  more  it  has  of  these,  the  more  it  has  still  of 
the  perceivable  differences,  whereby  it  is  kept  separate  and 
distinct  from  all  ideas  belonging  to  other  names,  even  those  that 
approach  nearest  to  it :  and  thereby  all  confusion  with  them  is 
avoided. 

§11.    CONFUSION  CONCERNS  ALWAYS  TWO  IDEAS. 

Confusion,  making  it  a  difficulty  to  separate  two  things  that 
should  be  separated,  concerns  always  two  ideas  ;  and  those  most, 
which  most  approach  one  another.  Whenever  therefore  we 
suspect  any  idea  to  be  confused,  we  must  examine  what  other  it 
is  in  danger  to  be  confounded  with,  or  which  it  cannot  easily  be 
separated  from  ;  and  that  will  always  be  found  an  idea  belonging 
to  another  name,  and  so  should  be  a  different  thing,  from  which 
yet  it  is  not  sufficiently  distinct ;  being  either  the  same  with  it,  or 
making  a  part  of  it,  or  at  least  as  properly  called  by  that  name, 
as  the  other  it  is  ranked  under  ;  and  so  keeps  not  that  difference 
from  that  other  idea,  which  the  different  names  import. 

§    12.    CAUSES  OF  CONFUSION. 

This,  I  think,  is  the  confusion  proper  to  ideas,  which  still  car- 
ries with  it  a  secret  reference  to  names.  At  least,  if  there  be 
any  other  confusion  of  ideas,  this  is  that  which  most  of  all  disor- 
ders men's  thoughts  and  discourses  :  ideas,  as  ranked  under 
names,  being  those  that  for  the  most  part  men  reason  of  within 
themselves,  and  always  those  which  they  commune  about  with 
others.  And  therefore  where  there  are  supposed  two  different 
ideas  marked  by  two  different  names,  which  are  not  as  distin- 
guishable as  the  sounds  that  stand  for  them,  there  never  fails  to 
be  confusion  ;  and  where  any  ideas  are  distinct,  as  the  ideas  of 
those  two  sounds  they  are  marked  by,  there  can  be  between 
them  no  confusion.  The  way  to  prevent  it  is  to  collect  and  unite 
into  our  complex  idea,  as  precisely  as  is  possible,  all  those  ingre- 
dients whereby  it  is  differenced  from  others  ;  and  to  them,  so 
united  in  a  determinate  number  and  order,  apply  steadily  the 
same  name.  But  this  neither  accommodating  men's  ease  or 
vanity,  or  serving  any  design  but  that  of  naked  truth,  which  is 
not  always  the  thing  aimed  at,  such  exactness  is  rather  to  be 
wished  than  hoped  for.  And  since  the  loose  application  of  name?. 


VH,  XX1X.J  OP  DISTIJSCT  AND  CONFUSED  IDEAS.  34} 

so  undetermined,  variable,  and  almost  no  ideas,  serves  both  to 
cover  our  own  ignorance,  as  well  as  to  perplex  and  confound 
others,  which  goes  for  learning  and  superiority  in  knowledge,  it 
is  no  wonder  that  most  men  should  use  it  themselves,  whilst  they 
complain  of  it  in  others.  Though,  I  think,  no  small  part  of  the 
confusion  to  be  found  in  the  notions  of  men  might  by  care  and 
ingenuity  be  avoided,  yet  I  am  far  from  concluding  it  every 
where  wilful.  Some  ideas  are  so  complex,  and  made  up  of 
so  many  parts,  that  the  memory  does  not  easily  retain  the 
very  same  precise  combination  of  simple  ideas  under  one  name', 
much  less  are  we  able  constantly  to  divine  for  what  precise  com- 
plex idea  such  a  name  stands  in  another  man's  use  of  it.  From 
the  first  of  these,  follows  confusion  in  a  man's  own  reasonings 
and  opinions  within  himself;  from  the  latter,  frequent  confusion 
in  discoursing  and  arguing  with  others.  But  having  more  at  large 
treated  of  words,  their  defects  and  abuses,  in  the  following  book, 
J  shall  here  say  no  more  of  it. 

§    ]3.    COMPLEX  IDEAS  MAY  BE  DISTINCT  IN  ONE  PART, AND  CONFUSED 
IN  ANOTHER. 

Our  complex  ideas  being  made  up  of  collections,  and  so 
variety  of  simple  ones,  may  accordingly  be  very  clear  and  distinct 
in  one  part,  and  very  obscure  and  confused  in  another.  In  a 
man  who  speaks  of  a  chiliasdron,  or  a  body  of  a  thousand  sides-, 
the  ideas  of  the  figure  may  be  very  confused,  though  that  of  the 
number  be  very  distinct;  so  that  he  being  able  to  discourse  and 
demonstrate  concerning  that  part  of  his  complex  idea  which 
depends  upon  the  number  of  a  thousand,  he  is  apt  to  think  he 
has  a  distinct  idea  of  a  chiliasdron  ;  though  it  be  plain  he  has  no 
precise  idea  of  its  figure,  so  as  to  distinguish  it  by  that,  from  one 
that  has  but  999  sides  ;  the  not  observing  whereof  causes  no  small 
error  in  men's  thoughts,  and  confusion  in  their  discourses. 

§    1  1.    THIS,  IF  NOT  HEEDED,  CAUSES  CONFUSION  IN  OUR  ARGUINGS.. 

fie  that  thinks  hehas  a  distinct  idea  of  the  figure  of  a  chiluedron,. 
let  him  for  trial  sake  take  another  parcel  of  the  same  uniform  mai- 
ler, viz.  gold  or  wax,  of  an  equal  bulk,  and  make  it  into  a  figure  of 
999  sides :  he  will,  1  doubt  not,  he  able  to  distinguish  these  two 
ideas  one.  from  another,  by  the  number  of  sides :  and  reason  and 
argue  distinctly  about  them,  whilst  he  keeps  his  thoughts  and 
reasoning  to  that  part  only  of  these  ideas  which  is  contained  in 
liieir  numbers  ;  as  that  the  sides  of  the  one  could  be  divided  into 
two  equal  numbers,  and  of  the  others  not,  &c.  But  when  he 
goes  about  to  distinguish  them  by  their  figure,  he  will  there  be 
presently  at  a  loss,  and  not  be  able,  I  think,  to  frame  in  his  mind 
two  ideas,  one  of  them  distinct  from  the  other,  by  the  hare  figure 
of  these  two  pieces  of  gold,  as  he  could,  if  the  same  parcels  o( 
gold  were  made  one  into  a  cube,  the  other  a  figure  of  five  sides 
'\\  which  incomplete  ideas  we  are  very  apt  to  impose  <ru  our- 

Vor.  f.  M 


.J4G  ©F  DISTINCT  AND  CONFUSED  IDEAS.  [BOOK  II. 

selves,  and  wrangle  with  others,  especially  where  they  have 
particular  and  familiar  names.  For  being  satisfied  in  that  part 
of  the  idea,  which  we  have  clear, — and  the  name  which  is 
familiar  to  us  being  applied  to  the  whole,  containing  that  part 
also  which  is  imperfect  and  obscure, — we  are  apt  to  use  it  for 
that  confused  part,  and  draw  deductions  from  it,  in  the  obscure 
part  of  its  signification,  as  confidently  as  we  do  from  the  other. 

§  15.    INSTANCE  IN  ETERNITY. 

Having  frequently  in  our  mouths  the  name  eternity,  we  are  apt 
to  think  we  have  a  positive  comprehensive  idea  of  it,  which  is  as 
much  as  to  say  that  there  is  no  part  of  that  duration  which  is  not 
clearly  contained  in  our  idea.  It  is  true,  that  he  that  thinks  so 
may  have  a  clear  idea  of  duration ;  he  may  also  have  a  very 
clear  idea  of  a  very  great  length  of  duration  ;  he  may  also  have 
a  clear  idea  of  the  comparison  of  that  great  one  with  still  a 
greater :  but  it  not  being  possible  for  him  to  include  in  his  idea 
of  any  duration,  let  it  be  as  great  as  it  will,  the  whole  extent 
together  of  a  duration,  where  he  supposes  no  end,  that  part  of  his 
idea,  which  is  still  beyond  the  bounds  of  that  large  duration  he 
represents  to  his  own  thoughts,  is  very  obscure  and  undeter- 
mined. And  hence  it  is,  that  in  disputes  and  reasonings  con- 
cerning eternity,  or  any  other  infinite,  we  are  apt  to  blunder,  and 
involve  ourselves  in  manifest  absurdities. 

§   1G.    DIVISIBILITY  OF  MATTER. 

In  matter  we  have  no  clear  ideas  of  the  smallness  of  parts. 
much  beyond  the  smallest  that  occur  to  any  of  our  senses ;  and 
therefore  when  we  talk  of  the  divisibility  of  matter  in  infinitum, 
though  we  have  clear  ideas  of  division  and  divisibility,  and  have 
also  clear  ideas  of  parts  made  out  of  a  whole  by  division  ;  yet 
we  have  but  very  obscure  and  confused  ideas  of  corpuscles,  or 
minute  bodies  so  to  be  divided,  when  by  former  divisions  they 
are  reduced  to  a  smallness  much  exceeding  the  perception  of 
any  of  our  senses ;  and  so  all  that  we  have  clear  and  distinct 
ideas  of,  is  of  what  division  in  general  or  abstractedly  is,  and 
the  relation  of  totum  and  parts ;  but  of  the  bulk  of  the  body 
to  be  thus  infinitely  divided  after  certain  progressions,  I  think,  we 
have  no  clear  nor  distinct  idea  at  all.  For  I  ask  any  one. 
whether  taking  the  smallest  atom  of  dust  he  ever  saw,  he  has 
any  distinct  idea  (bating  still  the  number,  which  concerns  not 
extension)  betwixt  the  100,000th,  and  the  1,000,000th  part  of  it. 
Or  if  he  thinks  lie  tan  refine  his  ideas  to  that  degree,  without 
losing  sight  of  them,  let  him  add  ten  ciphers  to  each  of  those 
numbers.  Such  a  degree  of  smallness  is  not  unreasonable  to  be 
supposed,  since  a  division  carried  on  so  far  brings  it  to  nearer  tin- 
end  of  infinite  division  than  the  first  division  into  two  halves  does. 
I  must  confess,  for  my  part,  I  have  no  clear  distinct  ideas  of 
Ihe  different   bulk  or  extension   of  those  bodies,  having  but  a 


..  H.  \XI\.]  <jV  DISTINCT  AND  (  ONPUSED  IDEAS.  347 

very  obscure  one  of  either  of  them.  So  that,  I  think,  when  we 
talk  of  division  of  bodies  in  infinitum,  our  idea  of  their  distinct 
hulks,  which  is  the  subject  and  foundation  of  division,  comes, 
after  a  little  progression,  to  be  confounded  and  almost  lost  in 
obscurity.  For  that  idea,  which  is  to  represent  only  bigness, 
must  be  very  obscure  and  confused,  which  we  cannot  distinguish 
from  one  ten  times  as  big,  but  only  by  number  ;  so  that  we. 
have  clear  distinct  ideas,  we  may  say,  of  ten  and  one,  but  no 
distinct  ideas  of  two  such  extensions.  It  is  plain  from  hence,  that 
when  we  talk  of  infinite  divisibility  of  body,  or  extension,  our 
distinct  and  clear  ideas  are  only  of  numbers  ;  but  the  clear 
distinct  ideas  of  extension,  after  some  progress  of  division,  arc 
quite  lost :  aud  of  such  minute  parts  we  have  no  distinct  ideas  ;ii. 
all ;  but  it  returns,  as  all  our  ideas  of  ■infinite  do,  at  last  to  that  of 
number  always  to  be  added  ;  but  thereby  never  amounts  to  any 
distinct  idea  of  actual  infinite  parts.  We  have,  it  is  true,  a 
clear  idea  of  division,  as  often  as  we  think  of  it;  but  thereby  we 
have  no  more  a  clear  idea  of  infinite  parts  in  matter,  than  we 
have  a  clear  idea  of  an  infinite  number,  by  being  able  still  to  add 
new  numbers  to  any  assigned  numbers  we  have  :  endless  divisi- 
bility giving  us  no  more  a  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  actually 
infinite  parts,  than  endless  addibility  (if  1  may  so  speak)  gives 
us  a  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  an  actually  infinite  number;  they 
both  being  only  in  a  power  still  of  increasing  the  number,  be  it 
already  as  great  as  it  will.  So  that  of  what  remains  to  be  added 
(wherein  consists  the  infinity.)  we  have  but  an  obscure,  imper- 
fect, and  confused  idea  ;  from  or  about  which  we  can  argue  or 
reason  with  no  certainty  or  clearness,  no  more  than  we  can  in 
arithmetic,  about  a  number  of  which  we  have  no  such  distinct 
idea  as  we  have  of  4  or  100  ;  but  only  this  relative  obscure  one, 
lhat  compared  to  any  other,  it  is  still  bigger ;  and  we  have  no 
more  a  clear  positive  idea  of  it  when  we  say  or  conceive  it  is 
bigger,  or  more  than  400,000,000,  than  if  we  should  say  it  is 
"bigger  than  40,  or  4  ;  400,000,000  having  no  nearer  a  proportion 
to  the  end  of  addition  or  number,  than  4.  For  he  that  adds  only 
4  to  4,  and  so  proceeds,  shall  as  soon  come  to  the  end  of  all 
addition,  as  he  that  adds  400,000.000  to  400,000,000.  And  so 
likewise  in  eternity,  he  that  has  an  idea  of  but  four  years,  has  as 
much  a  positive  complete  idea  of  eternity,  as  he  that  has  one  of 
400,000,000-  of  years  :  for  what  remains  of  eternity  beyond 
either  of  these  two  numbers  of  years  is  as  clear  to  the  one  as  the 
other;  i.e.  neither  of  them  has  any  clear  positive  idea  of  it  at 
all.  For  he  that  adds  only  four  years  to  four,  and  so  on,  shall 
as  soon  reach  eternity  as  he  that  adds  400,000,000  of  years,  and 
so  on  ;  or,  if  he  please,  doubles  the  increase  as  often  as  he  will  : 
the  remaining  abyss  being  still  as  far  beyond  the  end  of  all  these 
progressions,  as  it  is  from  the  length  of  a  day  or  an  hour.  For 
nothing  finite  bears  any  proportion  to  infinite  :  and  therefore  our 
ideas,  which  are  all  finite,  cannot  bearanv.     Thus  it  is  also  in 


34o  of  REAL  AND  FANTASTICAL  IDEAS*  [liOOKII. 

our  idea  of  extension,  when  we  increase  it  by  addition,  as  well 
as  when  we  diminish  it  by  division,  and  would  enlarge  our 
thoughts  to  infinite  space.  After  a  few  doublings  of  those  ideas 
of  extension,  which  are  the  largest  we  are  accustomed  to  have, 
we  lose  the  clear  distinct  idea  of  that  space  :  it  becomes  a  con- 
fusedly great  one,  with  a  surplus  of  still  greater ;  about  which, 
when  we  would  argue  or  reason,  we  shall  always  rind  ourselves 
at  a  loss  ;  confused  ideas  in  our  arguings  and  deductions  from 
that  part  of  them  which  is  confused  always  leading  us  into 
confusion. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

OF   REAL  AND  FANTASTICAL  IDEAS. 
j   1.    REAL  IPEAS  ARE  CONFORMABLE  TO  THEIR  ARCHETYPI>. 

Besides  what  we  have  already  mentioned  concerning  ideas, 
other  considerations  belong  to  them,  in  reference  to  things  from 
whence  they  are  taken,  or  which  they  may  be  supposed  to  repre- 
sent :  and  thus,  I  think,  they  may  come  under  a  threefold  dis- 
tinction ;  and  are, 

First,  either  real  or  fantastical. 

Secondly,  adequate  or  inadequate. 

Thirdly,  true  or  false. 

First,  by  real  ideas,  I  mean  such  as  have  a  foundation  in 
nature  ;  such  as  have  a  conformity  with  the  real  being  and  exist- 
ence of  things,  or  with  their  archetypes.  Fantastical  or  chime- 
rical I  call  such  as  have  no  foundation  in  nature,  nor  have  any 
conformity  to  that  reality  of  being  to  which  they  are  tacitly 
referred  as  to  their  archetypes.  If  we  examine  the  several  sorts 
of  ideas  before  mentioned,  we  shall  find,  that, 

§  2.  SIMPLE  IDEAS  ALL  REAL. 

First,  our  simple  ideas  are  all  real,  all  agree  to  the  reality  of 
things,  not  that  they  are  all  of  them  the  images  or  representations 
of  what  does  exist ;  the  contrary  whereof,  in  all  but  the  primary 
qualities  of  bodies,  hath  been  already  shown.  But  though  white- 
ness and  coldness  are  no  more  in  snow  than  pain  is,  yet  those  ideas, 
of  whiteness  and  coldness,  pain,  &c.  being  in  us  the  effects  of 
powers  in  things  without  us,  ordained  by  our  Maker  to  produce 
in  us  such  sensations ;  they  arc  real  ideas  in  us,  whereby  we  dis- 
tinguish the  qualities  that  are  really  in  things  themselves.  For 
these  several  appearances  being  designed  to  be  the  mark,  whereby 
we  are  to  know  and  distinguish  things  which  we  have  to  do  with, 
.onr  'xfens  do  os  well  serve  irs  to  tliat  purpose,  and  are  as  real  dis» 


CM.  XXX. J  or    REAL    AND    FANTASTICAL    ID] 

languishing  characters,  whether  they  be  onl)  constant  effects,  or 
eke  exacJ  resemblances  of  something  in  the  things  themselves  : 
the  reality  lying  in  that  steady  correspondence  they  have  with 
the  distinct  constitutions  of  real  beings.  But  whether  they 
answer  to  those  constitutions,  as  to  causes  or  patterns,  it  matters 
not ;  it  suffices  that  they  are  constantly  produced  by  them.  And 
thus  our  simple  ideas  are  all  real  and  true,  because  they  answer 
and  agree  to  those  powers  of  things  which  produce  them  in  our 
minds ;  that  being  all  that  is  requisite  to  make  them  real,  and 
not  fictions  at  pleasure.  For  in  simple  ideas  (as  has  been  shown) 
the  mind  is  wholly  confined  to  the  operation  of  things  upon  it, 
and  can  make  to  itself  no  simple  idea  more  than  what  it  has 
received. 

«i  D.   COMPLEX  IDEAS  ARE  VOLUNTARY  COMBINATIONS. 

Though  the  mind  be  wholly  passive  in  respect  of  its  simple 
ideas  ;  yet  1  think  we  may  say,  it  is  not  so  in  respect  of  its  com- 
plex ideas :  for  those  being  combinations  of  simple  ideas  put 
together,  and  united  under  one  general  name  ;  it  is  plain  that  the 
mind  of  man  uses  some  kind  of  liberty,  in  forming  those  complex 
ideas  :  how  else  comes  it  to  pass  that  one  man's  idea  of  gold,  or 
justice,  is  different  from  another's  !  but  because  he  has  put  in, 
or  left  out  of  his,  some  simple  idea  which  the  other  has  not.  The 
question  then  is,  which  of  these  are  real,  and  which  barely  ima- 
ginary combinations  ?  What  collections  agree  to  the  reality  of 
things,  and  what  not?  And  to  this  1  say,  that, 

1.  MIXED  MODES  MADE  OF  CONSISTENT  IDEAS,  ARE  REAL. 

Secondly,  mixed  modes  and  relations  having  no  other  reality 
but  what  they  have  in  the  minds  of  men,  there  is  nothing  more 
required  to  this  kind  of  ideas  to  make  them  real,  but  that  they 
be  so  framed,  that  there  be  a  possibility  of  existing  conformable 
to  them.  These  ideas  themselves  being  archetypes,  cannot  differ 
from  their  archetypes,  and  so  cannot  be  chimerical,  unless  any 
one  will  jumble  together  in  them  inconsistent  ideas.  Indeed,  as 
any  of  them  have  the  names  of  a  known  language  assigned  to 
i  hem,  by  which  he  that  has  them  in  his  mind  would  signify  them 
to  others,  so  bare  possibility  of  existing  is  not  enough  ;  they 
must  have  a  conformity  to  the  ordinary  signification  of  the  name 
(hat  is  given  them,  that  they  may  not  be  thought  fantastical :  as  if 
a  man  would  give  the  name  of  justice  to  that  idea  which  common 
use  calls  liberality.  But  this  fantasticalness  relates  more  to  pro- 
priety of  speech,  than  reality  of  ideas :  for  a  man  to  be  undis- 
turbed in  danger,  sedately  to  consider  what  is  fittest  to  be  done, 
and  to  execute  it  steadily,  is  a  mixed  mode,  or  a  complex  idea  of 
an  action  which  may  exist.  But  to  be  undisturbed  in  danger, 
without  using  one's  reason  or  industry,  is  what  is  also  possible  to 
be  ;  and  so  is  ;b  real  an  idea  as  the  other.  Though  the  first  of 
these,  having  the  name  courage  given  to  it.  may,  in  respect  of  that 


OF  REAL  AND  FANTASTICAL  IDEAS.      [BOOK  II. 

name,  be  a  right  or  wrong  idea:  but  the  other,  whilst  it  has  not 
a  common  received  name  of  any  known  language  assigned  to  it, 
is  not  capable  of*  any  deformity,  being  made  with  no  reference 
to  any  thing  but  itself. 

§  5.    IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES   ARE  REAL,  WHEN    THEY    AGREE    WITH  THE 
EXISTENCE  OF   THINGS. 

Thirdly,  our  complex  ideas  of  substances  being  made  all  of 
them  in  reference  to  things  existing  without  us,  and  intended  to 
be  representations  of  substances,  as  they  really  are  ;  are  no  far- 
ther real  than  as  they  are  such  combinations  of  simple  ideas  as 
are  really  united,  and  coexist  in  things  without  us.  On  the  con- 
trary, those  are  fantastical,  which  are  made  up  of  such  collections 
of  simple  ideas  as  were  really  never  united,  never  were  found 
together  in  any  substance  ;  v.  g.  a  rational  creature,  consisting  of 
a  horse's  head,  joined  to  a  body  of  human  shape,  or  such  as  the 
centaurs  are  described  :  or,  a  body  yellow,  very  malleable,  fusi- 
ble, and  fixed ;  but  lighter  than  common  water  :  or  a  uniform, 
uno  rganized  body,  consisting,  as  to  sense,  all  of  similar  parts, 
with  perception  and  voluntary  motion  joined  to  it.  Whether 
such  substances  as  these  can  possibly  exist  or  no,  it  is  probable 
we  do  not  know:  but  be  that  as  it  will,  these  ideas  of  substances 
being  made  conformable  to  no  pattern  existing  that  we  know, 
and  consisting  of  such  collections  of  ideas  as  no  substance  ever 
showed  us  united  together,  they  ought  to  pass  with. us  for  barely 
imaginary  :  but  much  more  are  those  complex  ideas  so,  which 
contain  in  them  any  inconsistency  or  contradiction  of  their 
parts. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

OF  ADEQUATE  AND  INADEQUATE  IDEAS. 


'Si.    ADEQUATE    IDEAS    ARE    SUCH     AS     PERFECTLY    REPRESENT    THEIR 

ARCHETYPES. 

Of  our  real  ideas,  some  are  adequate  and  some  arc  inadequate. 
Those  I  call  adequate,  which  perfectly  represent  those  arche- 
types which  the  mind  supposes  them  taken  from;  which  it  intends 
them  to  stand  for,  and  to  which  it  refers  them.  Inadequate  ideas 
are  such,  which  are  but  a  partial  or  incomplete  representation  of 
those  archetypes  to  which  they  are  referred.  Upon  which 
account  it  is  plain. 


<  H.  XWI.J       OF    ADEQUATE    AM)    INADEQUATE    ID  J    IS. 
§  2.    SIMPLE  IDEAS  ALL   ADEQUATE. 

First,  that  all  our  simple  ideas  are  adequate.  Because  being 
nothing  but  the  effects  of  certain  powers  in  things,  fitted  and 
ordained  by  God  to  produce  such  sensations  in  us,  they  cannot 
but  he  correspondent  and  adequate  to  those  powers  :  and  we 
are  sure  they  agree  to  the  reality  of  things.  For  if  sugar 
produce  in  us  the  ideas  which  we  call  whiteness  and  swee' 
we  are  sure  there  is  a  power  in  sugar  to  produce  those  ideas  in 
our  minds,  or  else  they  could  not  have  been  produced  by  it.  And 
so  each  sensation  answering  the  power  that  operates  on  any  of 
our  senses,  the  idea  so  produced  is  a  real  idea  (and  not  a  fiction 
of  the  mind,  which  has  no  power  to  produce  any  simple  idea, 
and  cannot  but  be  adequate,  since  it  ought  only  to  answer  that 
power ;  and  so  all  simple  ideas  are  adequate.  It  is  true,  the 
things  producing  in  us  these  simple  ideas,  are  but  few  of  them 
denominated  by  us  as  if  they  were  only  the  causes  of  them,  but 
as  if  those  ideas  were  real  beings  in  them.  For  though  fire  be 
called  painful  to  the  touch,  whereby  is  signified  the  power  of 
producing  in  us  the  idea  of  pain,  yet  it  is  denominated  also  light 
and  hot ;  as  if  light  and  heat  were  really  something  in  the  fira 
more  than  a  power  to  excite  these  ideas  in  us  ;  and  therefore  are 
ealled  qualities  in,  or  of  the  fire.  But  these  being  nothing,  in 
truth,  but  powers  to  excite  such  ideas  in  us,  I  must  in  that  sense 
be  understood,  when  1  speak  of  secondary  qualities,  as  being  in 
things ;  or  of  their  ideas,  as  being  the  objects  that  excite  them  in 
us.  Such  ways  of  speaking,  though  accommodated  to  the  vulgar 
notions,  without  which'  one  cannot  be  well  understood,  yet  truly 
signify  nothing  but  those  powers  which  are  in  things  to  excite 
certain  sensations  or  ideas  in  us  :  since  were  there  no  fit  organs 
to  receive  the  impressions  fire  makes  on  the  sight  and  touch,  nor 
a  mind  joined  to  those  organs  to  receive  the  ideas  of  light  and 
heat  by  those  impressions  from  the  fire  or  sun,  there  would  yet 
be  no  more  light  or  heat  in  the  world,  than  there  would  be  pain, 
if  there  were  no  sensible  creature  to  feel  it,  though  the  sun  should 
continue  just  as  it  is  now,  and  mount  iEtna  flame  higher  than 
ever  it  did.  Solidity  and  extension,  and  the  termination  of  it, 
figure,  with  motion  and  rest,  whereof  we  have  the  ideas,  would 
be  really  in  the  world  as  they  are,  whether  there  were  any  sensible 
being  to  perceive  them  or  no  ;  and  therefore  we  have  reason  to 
look  on  those  as  the  real  modifications  of  matter,  and  such  are 
the  exciting  causes  of  all  our  various  sensations  from  bodies.  But 
this  being  an  inquiry  not  belonging  to  this  place,  1  shall  enter  no 
farther  into  it,  but  proceed  to  show  what  complex  ideas  are 
quate,  and  what  not. 

RE     ILL     \n:.\ 

ondly,  our  complex  ideas  of  modes,  being  voluntary  col- 
lections el'  simple  ideas  which   the  mind  puts  together  without 
!         es  or  standing  patterns  existing 


oo2  OF  ADEQUATE  AND  INADEQUATE  IDEAS.  [liOOK  II'. 

any  where,  are  and  cannot  but  be  adequate  ideas.  Because  they 
not  being  intended  for  copies  of  things  really  existing,  but  for 
archetypes  made  by  the  mind  to  rank  and  denominate  things  by, 
cannot  want  any  thing  ;  they  having  each  of  them  that  combina- 
tion of  ideas,  and  thereby  that  perfection  which  the  mind  in- 
tended they  should  :  so  that  the  mind  acquiesces  in  them,  and 
can  find  nothing  wanting.  Thus  by  having  the  idea  of  a  figure, 
with  three  sides  meeting  at  three  angles,  I  have  a  complete  idea, 
wherein  I  require  nothing  else  to  make  it  perfect.  That  the 
mind  is  satisfied  with  the  perfection  of  this  its  idea,  is  plain  in 
that  it  does  not  conceive,  that  any  understanding  hath,  or  can 
have  a  more  complete  or  perfect  idea  of  that  thing  it  signifies  by 
the  word  triangle,  supposing  it  to  exist,  than  itself  has  in  that 
complex  idea  of  three  sides  and  three  angles  ;  in  which  is  con- 
tained all  that  is  or  can  be  essential  to  it,  or  necessary  to  com- 
plete it,  wherever  or  however  it  exists.  But  in  our  ideas  of 
substances  it  is  otherwise.  For  there  desiring  to  copy  things  as 
they  really  do  exist,  and  to  represent  to  ourselves  that  constitu- 
tion on  which  all  their  properties  depend,  we  perceive  our  ideas 
attain  not  that  perfection  we  intend  :  we  find  they  still  want 
something  Ave  should  be  glad  were  in  them  ;  and  so  are  all  in- 
adequate. But  mixed  modes  and  relations,  being  archetypes 
without  patterns,  and  so  having  nothing  to  represent  but  them- 
selves, cannot  but  be  adequate,  every  thing  being  so  to  itself. 
He  that  at  first  put  together  the  idea  of  danger,  perceived 
absence  of  disorder  from  fear,  sedate  consideration  of  what  was 
justly  to  be  done,  and  executing  that  without  disturbance,  or 
being  deterred  by  the  danger  of  it,  had  certainly  in  his  mind  that 
complex  idea  made  up  of  that  combination  ;  and  intending  it  to 
be  nothing  else,  but  what  is,  nor  to  have  in  it  any  other  simple 
ideas,  but  what  it  hath,  it  could  not  also  but  be  an  adequate 
idea  :  and  laying  this  up  in  his  memory,  with  the  name  courage 
annexed  to  it,  to  signify  to  others,  and  denominate  from  thence 
any  action  he  should  observe  to  agree  with  it,  and  hereby  a  stan- 
dard to  measure  and  denominate  actions  by,  as  they  agreed  to  it. 
This  idea  thus  made,  and  laid  up  for  a  pattern,  must  necessarily 
be  adequate,  being  referred  to  nothing  else  but  itself,  nor  made 
by  any  other  original,  but  the  good  liking  and  will  of  him  that- 
first  made  this  combination. 

§  4.    MODES,  IN  REFERENCE  TO  SETTLED  tfAMES,  MAY  BE    INADEQUATE. 

Indeed  another  coming  after,  and  in  conversation  learning  from 
him  the  word  courage,  may  make  an  idea  to  which  he  gives  the 
name  courage,  different  from  what  the  first  author  applied  it  to, 
and  has  in  his  mind,  when  he  uses  it.  And  in  this  case,  if  he 
designs  that  his  idea  in  thinking  should  be  conformable  to  the 
other's  idea,  as  the  name  he  uses  in  speaking  is  conformable  in 
sound  to  his,  from  whom  he  learned  it,  his  idea  may  be  very 
wrong  and  inadequate:  because  in  this  case,  making  the  other 


CH.  XXXI.]     OP  ADEQUATE  AND  INADEQUATE  IDEAS.  353 

man's  idea  the  pattern  of  his  idea  in  thinking,  as  the  other  man's 
word  or  sound  is  the  pattern  of  his  in  speaking,  his  idea  is  so  far 
defective  and  inadequate,  as' it  is  distant  from  the  archetype  and 
pattern  he  refers  it  to,  and  intends  to  express  and  signify  by  the 
name  he  uses  for  it;  which  name  he  would  have  to  be  a  sign 
of  the  other  man's  idea  (to  which,  in  its  proper  use,  it  is 
primarily  annexed)  and  of  his  own,  as  agreeing  to  it :  to  which, 
if  his  own  does  not  exactly  correspond,  it  is  faulty  and  inade- 
quate. 

§5. 

Therefore  these  complex  ideas  of  modes,  when  they  are  refer- 
red by  the  mind,  and  intend  to  correspond  to  the  ideas  in  the 
mind  of  some  other  intelligent  being,  expressed  by  the  names 
we  apply  to  them,  they  may  be  very  deficient,  wrong,  and  ina- 
dequate ;  because  they  agree  not  to  that,  which  the  mind  designs 
to  be  their  archetype  and  pattern  :  in  which  respect  only,  anv 
idea  of  modes  can  be  wrong,  imperfect,  or  inadequate.  And 
on  this  account  our  ideas  of  mixed  modes  are  the  most  liable 
to  be  faulty  of  any  other  ;  but  this  refers  more  to  proper  speak- 
ing, than  knowing  right. 

§  6.  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES,  AS  REFERRED  TO  REAL  ESSENCES,  NOT 
ADEQUATE. 

Thirdly,  What  ideas  we  have  of  substances,  I  have  above 
shown.  Now  those  ideas  have  in  the  mind  a  double  reference  ; 
1.  Sometimes  they  are  referred  to  a  supposed  real  essence  of 
each  species  of  things.  2.  Sometimes  they  are  only  designed 
to  be  pictures  and  representations  in  the  mind,  of  things  that  do 
exist  by  ideas  of  those  qualities  that  are  discoverable  in  them. 
In  both  which  ways,  these  copies  of  those  originals  and  arche- 
types are  imperfect  and  inadequate. 

First,  it  is  usual  for  men  to  make  the  names  of  substances  stand 
for  things,  as  supposed  to  have  certain  real  essences,  whereby 
they  are  of  this  or  that  species  :  and  names  standing  for  nothing 
but  the  ideas  that  arc  in  men's  minds,  they  must  consequently 
refer  their  ideas  to  such  real  essences,  as  to  their  archetypes. 
That  men,  (especially  such  as  have  been  bred  up  in  the  learning 
taught  in  this  part  of  the  world)  do  suppose  certain  specific  es- 
sences of  substances,  which  each  individual,  in  its  several  kinds, 
is  made  conformable  to,  and  partakes  of ;  is  so  far  from  need- 
ing proof,  that  it  will  be  thought  strange  if  any  one  should  do 
otherwise.  And  thus  they  ordinarily  apply  the  specific  names 
they  rank  particular  substances  under,  to  things  as  distinguished 
by  such  specific  real  essences.  Who  is  there  almost,  who  would 
not  take  it  amiss,  if  it  should  be  doubted,  whether  he  called 
himself  a  man,  with  any  other  meaning,  than  as  having  the 
real  essence  of  a  man  ?  And  yet  if  you  demand  what  those  real 
essences  are,  it  is  plain  men  are  ignorant,  and  know  them  not* 

Vol.  I.  15 


"ool  OF  ADEQUATE  AND  INADEQUATE  IDEAS.     [BOOK  II. 

From  whence  it  follows,  that  the  ideas  they  have  in  their  minds, 
being  referred  to  real  essences,  as  to  archetypes  which  are  un- 
known, must  be  so  far  from  being  adequate,  that  they  cannot  be 
supposed  to  be  any  representation  of  them  at  all.  The  complex 
ideas  we  have  of  substances,  are,  as  it  has  been  shown,  certain 
collections  of  simple  ideas  that  have  been  observed  or  supposed 
constantly  to  exist  together.  Bur  such  a  complex  idea  cannot 
be  the  real  essence  of  any  substance  ;  for  then  the  properties  we 
discover  in  that  body,  would  depend  on  that  complex  idea,  and  be 
deducible  from  it,  and  their  necessary  connexion  with  it  be 
known  :  as  all  properties  of  a  triangle  depend  on,  and  as  far  as 
they  are  discoverable,  are  deducible  from,  the  complex  idea  of 
three  lines,  including  a  space.  But  it  is  plain,  that  in  our  com- 
plex ideas  of  substances,  are  not  contained  such  ideas,  on  which 
all  the  other  qualities,  that  are  to  be  found  in  them,  do  depend. 
The  common  idea  men  have  of  iron,  is  a  body  of  a  certain 
colour,  weight  and  hardness ;  and  a  property  that  they  look  on 
as  belonging  to  it,  is  malleableness.  But  yet  this  property  has  no 
necessary  connexion  with  that  complex  idea,  or  any  part  of  it : 
and  there  is  no  more  reason  to  think  that  malleableness  depends 
on  that  colour,  weight  and  hardness,  than  that  colour,  or  that 
weight  depends  on  its  malleableness.  And  yet,  though  we  know 
nothing  of  these  real  essences,  there  is  nothing  more  ordinary, 
than  that  men  should  attribute  the  sorts  of  things  to  such  essen- 
ces. The  particular  parcel  of  matter,  which  makes  the  ring  I 
have  on  my  finger,  is  forwardly,  by  most  men,  supposed  to  have 
a  real  essence,  whereby  it  is  gold  ;  and  from  whence  those  quali- 
ties flow,  which  1  find  in  it,  viz.  its  peculiar  colour,  weight,  hard- 
ness, fusibility,  fixedness,  and  change  of  colour  upon  a  slight 
touch  of  mercury,  &x.  This  essence,  from  which  all  these 
properties  flow,  when  I  inquire  into  it,  and  search  after  it,  I 
plainly  perceive  I  cannot  discover  ;  the  farthest  I  can  go,  is 
only  to  presume,  that  it  being  nothing  but  body,  its  real  essence, 
or  internal  constitution,  on  which  these  qualities  depend,  can  be 
nothing  bu  the  figure,  size,  and  connexion  of  its  solid  parts  ; 
of  neither  of  which,  having  any  distinct  perception  at  all,  can  1 
have  any  idea  of  its  essence,  which  is  the  cause  that  it  has 
that  particular  shining  yellowness,  a  greater  weight  than  any 
thing  1  know  of  the  same  bulk,  and  a  fitness  to  have  its  colour 
changed  by  the  touch  of  quicksilver.  If  any  one  will  say,  that 
the  real  essence  and  internal  constitution,  on  which  these  pro- 
perties depend,  is  not  the  figure,  size  and  arrangement  or  con- 
nexion of  its  solid  parts,  but  something  else,  called  its  particular 
form  :  I  am  farther  from  having  any  idea  of  its  real  essence, 
than  I  was  before  :  for  I  have  an  idea  of  figure,  size,  and  situa- 
tion of  solid  parts  in  general,  though  I  have  none  of  the  particu- 
lar figure,  size,  or  putting  together  of  parts,  whereby  the  quali- 
ties above  mentioned  are  produced  ;  which  qualities  I  find  in 
that  particular  parcel  of  matter  that  is  on  my  finger,  and  not  in 


CH.  XXXI.]        OF  ADEQUATE  AND  INADEQUATE  IDEAS.  355 

another  parcel  of  matter,  with  which  I  cut  the  pen  I  write  with. 
But  when  I  am  told,  that  something  besides  the  figure,  size  and 
posture  of  the  solid  parts  of  that  body,  is  its  essence,  something 
called  substantial  form  :  of  that  1  confess  1  have  no  idea  at  all, 
but  only  of  the  sound  form,  which  is  far  enough  from  an  idea 
of  its  real  essence,  or  constitution.  The  like  ignorance  as  I 
have  of  the  real  essence  of  this  particular  substance,  I  have 
also  of  the  real  essence  of  all  other  natural  ones :  of  which 
essences,  1  confess  1  have  no  distinct  ideas  at  all :  and  1  am 
apt  to  suppose  others,  when  they  examine  their  own  knowledge, 
will  find  in  themselves,  in  this  one  point,  the  same  sort  of  igno- 
rance. 

§7. 

Now,  then,  when  men  apply  to  this  particular  parcel  of  mat- 
ter on  my  finger,  a  general  name  already  in  use,  and  denominate 
it  gold,  do  they  not  ordinarily,  or  are  they  not  understood  to  give 
it  that  name  as  belonging  to  a  particular  species  of  bodies,  having 
a  real  internal  essence  ;  by  having  of  which  essence,  this  parti- 
cular substance  comes  to  be  of  that  species,  and  to  be  called  by 
that  name  ?  If  it  be  so,  as  it  is  plain  it  is,  the  name,  by  which 
things  are  marked,  as  having  that  essence,  must  be  referred  pri- 
marily to  that  essence  ;  and  consequently  the  idea  to  which 
that  name  is  given,  must  be  referred  also  to  that  essence,  and 
be  intended  to  represent  it.  Which  essence,  since  they,  who  so 
use  the  names,  know  not,  their  ideas  of  substances  must  be  all 
adequate  in  that  respect,  as  not  containing  in  them  that  real  es- 
sence which  the  mind  intends  they  should. 

§   8.     IDEAS   OF   SUBSTANCES,  AS  COLLECTIONS   OF  THEIR  QUALITIES,  ARE 
ALL   INADEQUATE. 

Secondly,  Those  who  neglecting  that  useless  supposition  of 
unknown  real  essences,  whereby  they  are  distinguished,  endea- 
vour to  copy  the  substances  that  exist  in  the  world,  by  putting 
together  the  ideas  of  those  sensible  qualities  which  are  found 
coexisting  in  them,  though  they  come  much  nearer  a  likeness 
of  them,  than  those  who  imagine  they  know  not  what  real  spe- 
cific essences  ;  yet  they  arrive  not  at  perfectly  adequate  ideas  of 
those  substances  they  would  thus  copy  into  their  minds;  nor  do 
those  copies  exactly  and  fully  contain  ail  that  is  to  be  found  in 
their  archetypes.  Because  those  qualities,  and  powers  of  sub- 
stances, whereof  we  make  their  complex  ideas,  are  so  many  and 
various,  that  no  man's  complex  idea  contains  them  all.  That 
our  abstract  ideas  of  substances  do  not  contain  in  them  all  the 
simple  ideas  that  are  united  in  the  things  themselves,  is  evident, 
in  that  men  do  rarely  put  into  their  complex  idea  of  any  sub- 
stance, all  the  simple  ideas  they  do  know  to  exist  in  it.  Because 
endeavouring  to  make  the  signification  of  their  specific  names  as 
clear,  and  as  little  cumbersome  as  they  can.  they  make  their  spc- 


"356  OF  ABEQUATE  AND  INADEQUATE  IDEAS.  [BOOK  II. 

cific  ideas  of  the  sorts  of  substances,  for  the  most  part,  of  a  few 
of  those  simple  ideas  which  are  to  be  found  in  them  :  but  these 
having  no  original  precedency,  or  right  to  be  put  in,  and  make 
the  specific  idea  more  than  others  that  are  left  out,  it  is  plain 
that  both  these  ways  our  ideas  of  substances  are  deficient  and 
inadequate.  The  simple  ideas,  whereof  we  make  our  complex 
ones  of  substances,  are  all  of  them  (bating  only  the  figure  and 
bulk  of  some  sorts)  powers,  which  being  relations  to  other  sub- 
stances we  can  never  be  sure  that  we  know  all  the  powers  that 
are  in  any  one  body,  till  we  have  tried  what  changes  it  is 
fitted  to  give  to,  or  receive  from  other  substances,  in  their 
several  ways  of  application  :  which  being  impossible  to  be  tried 
upon  any  one  body,  much  less  upon  all,  it  is  impossible  we  should 
have  adequate  ideas  of  any  substance,  made  up  of  a  collection 
of  all  its  properties. 

§9. 

Whosoever  first  lit  on  a  parcel  of  that  sort  of  substance  we 
denote  by  the  word  gold,  could  not  rationally  take  the  bulk  and 
figure  he  observed  in  that  lump,  to  depend  on  its  real  essence 
or  internal  constitution.  Therefore  those  never  went  into  his 
idea  of  that  species  of  body ;  but  i's  peculiar  colour,  perhaps, 
and  weight,  were  the  first  he  abstracted  from  it,  to  make  the 
complex  idea  of  that  species.  Which  both  are  but  powers  ;  the 
one  to  affect  our  eyes  after  such  a  manner,  and  to  produce  in  us 
that  idea  we  call  yellow  ;  and  the  other  to  force  upwards  any 
other  body  of  equal  bulk,  they  being  put  into  a  pair  of  equal 
scales,  one  against  another.  Another  perhaps  added  to  these  the 
ideas  of  fusibility,  and  fixedness,  two  other  passive  powers,  in 
relation  to  the  operation  of  fire  upon  it ;  another,  its  ductility 
and  solubility  in  aq.  regia,  two  other  powers  relating  to  the  ope- 
ration of  other  bodies,  in  changing  its  outward  figure  or  separa- 
tion of  it  into  insensible  parts.  These,  or  parts  of  these,  put 
together,  usually  make  the  complex  idea  in  men's  minds,  of  that 
sort  of  body  we  call  gold. 

§  10. 

But  no  one,  who  hath  considered  the  properties  of  bodies  in 
general,  or  this  sort  in  particuJar,  can  doubt  that  this  called  gold 
has  infinite  other  properties,  not  contained  in  that  complex  idea. 

Some  who  have  examined  this  species  more  accurately,  could, 
I  believe,  enumerate  ten  times  as  many  properties  in  gold,  all  of 
them  as  inseparable  from  its  internal  constitution,  as  its  colour 
or  weight :  and,  it  is  probable,  if  any  one  knew  all  the  properties 
that  are  by  divers  men  known  of  this  metal,  there  would  an 
hundred  times  as  many  ideas  go  to  the  complex  idea  of  gold,  as 
•any  one  man  yet  has  in  his  ;  and  yet  perhaps  that  not  be  the 
thousandth  part  of  what  is  to  be  discovered  in  it.  The  changes 
which  that  one  body  is  apt  to  receive,  and  make  in  other  bo- 


CH.   XXXI.]      OF  ADEQUATE  AND  INADEQUATE  IDEAS.  357 

dies,  upon  a  due  application,  exceeding  far  not  only  what  we 
know,  but  what  we  are  apt  to  imagine.  Which  will  not  appear 
so  much  a  paradox  to  any  one,  who  will  but  consider  how  far 
men  are  yet  from  knowing  all  the  properties  of  that  one,  no  very 
compound  figure,  a  triangle  ;  though  it  be  no  small  number  that 
are  already  by  mathematicians  discovered  of  it. 

§11.  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES  AS  COLLECTIONS  OF  THEIR  QUALITIES,  ARE 
ALL    INADEQUATE. 

So  that  all  our  complex  ideas  of  substances  are  imperfect  and 
inadequate.  Which  would  be  so  also  in  mathematical  figures,  if 
we  were  to  have  our  complex  ideas  of  them,  only  by  collecting 
their  properties  in  reference  to  other  figures.  How  uncertain 
and  imperfect  would  our  ideas  be  of  an  ellipsis,  if  we  had  no 
other  idea  of  it,  but  some  few  of  its  properties  ?  Whereas 
having  in  our  plain  idea  the  whole  essence  of  that  figure,  we  from 
thence  discover  those  properties,  and  demonstratively  see  how 
they  flow,  and  are  inseparable  from  it. 

§   12.    SIMPLE  IDEAS  hSlvvr*,  AND  ADEQUATE. 

Thus  the  mind  has  three  sorts  of  abstract  ideas  or  nominal  es- 
sences : 

First,  Simple  ideas,  which  are  «V7wr«  or  copies  ;  but  yet  cer- 
tainly adequate.  Because  being  intended  to  express  nothing  but 
the  power  in  things  to  produce  in  the  mind  such  a  sensation, 
that  sensation,  when  it  is  produced,  cannot  but  be  the  effect  of 
that  power.  So  the  paper  1  write  on,  having  the  power,  in  the 
light  (I  speak  according  to  the  common  notion  of  light)  to  pro- 
duce in  me  the  sensation  which  I  call  white,  it  cannot  but  be  the 
effect  of  such  a  power,  in  something  without  the  mind;  since  the 
mind  has  not  the  power  to  produce  any  such  idea  itself,  and 
being  meant  for  nothing  else  but  the  effect  of  such  a  power,  that 
simple  idea  is  real  and  adequate  :  the  sensation  of  white,  in  my 
mind,  being  the  effect  of  that  power,  which  is  in  the  paper  to 
produce  it,  is  perfectly  adequate  to  that  power ;  or  else,  that 
power  would  produce  a  different  idea. 

§   13.    IDEAS  OF    SUBSTANCES  ARE  eitlwrx  INADEQUATE. 

Secondly,  The  complex  ideas  of  substances  are  ectypes,  copies 
too  ;  but  not  perfect  ones,  not  adequate  :  which  is  very  evident 
to  the  mind,  in  that  it  plainly  perceives  that  whatever  collection 
of  simple  ideas  it  m  ikes  of  any  substance  that  exists,  it  cannot 
be  sure,  that  it  exactly  answers  all  that  are  in  that  substance: 
since  not  having  tried  all  the  operations,  of  all  other  substances 
upon  it,  and  found  all  the  alterations  it  would  receive  from,  or 
cause  in  other  substances,  it  cannot  have  an  exact  adequate  col- 
lection of  all  its  active  and  passive  capacities  ;  and  so  not  have 
an  adequate  complex  idea  of  the  powers  of  any  substance  exist- 
ing, and  its  relations,  which  is  that  sort  of  complex  idea  of  sub- 


35S  OP  TRUE  AND  FALSE  IDEAS.'         [BOOK  II. 

stances  we  have.  And,  after  all,  if  we  could  have,  and  actually 
had  in  our  complex  idea,  an  exact  collection  of  all  the  secondary 
qualities  or  powers  of  any  substance,  we  should  not  yet  thereby 
have  an  idea  of  the  essence  of  that  thing.  For  since  the  powers 
or  qualities  that  are  observable  by  us,  are  not  the  real  essence 
of  that  substance,  but  depend  on  it,  and  flow  from  it,  any  collec- 
tion whatsoever  of  these  qualities,  cannot  be  the  real  essence  of 
that  thing.  Whereby  it  is  plain,  that  our  ideas  of  substances  are 
not  adequate;  are  not  what  the  mind  intends  them  to  be.  Be- 
sides, a  man  has  no  idea  of  substance  in  general,  nor  knows  what 
substance  is  in  itself. 

§  14.    IDEAS  OF  MODES  AND  RELATIONS,  ARE  ARCHETYPES,  AND  CANNOT 
BUT  BE  ADEQ.DATE. 

Thirdly,  complex  ideas  of  modes  and  relations  are  originals 
and  archetypes  ;  are  not  copies,  nor  made  after  the  pattern  of 
any  real  existence,  to  which  the  mind  intends  them  to  be  con- 
formable, and  exactly  to  answer.  These  being  such  collections 
of  simple  ideas,  that  the  mind  itself  puts  together,  and  such 
collections,  that  each  of  them  contains  in  it  precisely  all  that  the 
mind  intends  it  should,  they  are  archetypes  and  essences  of 
modes  that  may  exist,  and  so  are  designed  only  for,  and  belong 
only  to  such  modes,  as  when  they  do  exist,  have  an  exact  con- 
formity with  those  complex  ideas.  The  ideas  therefore  of  modes 
and  relations  cannot  be  adequate. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

OF  TRUE  AND  FALSE  IDEAS. 


<S   1.    TRUTH  AND  FALSEHOOD  PROPERLY   BELONG  TO  PROPOSITIONS. 

Though  truth  and  falsehood  belong,  in  propriety  of  speech, 
only  to  propositions;  yet  ideas  are  oftentimes  termed  true  or  false 
(as  what  words  are  there,  that  are  not  used  with  great  latitude, 
and  with  some  deviation  from  their  strict  and  proper  significa- 
tions ?)  Though,  I  think,  that  when  the  ideas  themselves  are 
termed  true  or  false,  there  is  still  some  secret  or  tacit  proposi- 
tion, which  is  the  foundation  of  that  denomination  :  as  we  shall 
see,  if  we  examine  the  particular  occasions  wherein  they  come 
to  be  called  true  or  false,  in  all  which,  we  shall  find  some  kind 
of  afiirmation  or  negation,  which  is  the  reason  of  that  deno- 
mination. For  our  ideas  being  nothing  but  bare  appearances 
or  perceptions  in  our  minds,  cannot  properly  and  simply  in  them- 
selves be  said  to  be  true  or  false,  no  more  than  a  single  name  of 
any  thing  can  be  said  to  be  true  or  false. 


CH.  XXXII.]  OF  TRUE  AND  FALSE  IDEAS.  359 

§  2.    METAPHYSICAL    TRUTH  CONTAINS  A  TACIT  PROPOSITION. 

Indeed  both  ideas  and  words  may  be  said  to  be  true  in  a 
metaphysical  sense  of  the  word  truth,  as  all  other  things,  that 
any  way  exist,  are  said  to  be  true,  i.  e.  really  to  be  such  as  they 
exist.  Though  in  things  called  true,  even  in  that  sense,  there  is 
perhaps  a  secret  reference  to  our  ideas  looked  upon  as  the  stan- 
dards of  thattiuth,  which  amounts  to  a  mental  proposition,  though 
it  be  usually  not  taken  notice  of. 

§  3.    NO  IDEA,   AS  AN  APPEARANCE  IN   THE  MIND,  TRUE  OR  FALSE. 

But  it  is  not  in  thai  metaphysical  sense  of  truth  which  wc 
inquire  here,  when  we  examine  whether  our  ideas  are  capable  of 
being  true  or  false  ;  but  in  the  more  ordinary  acceptation  of  those 
words  :  and  so  I  say,  that  the  ideas  in  our  minds  being  only  so 
many  perceptions,  or  appearances  there,  none  of  them  a  re  false; 
the  idea  of  a  Centaur  having  no  more  falsehood  in  it,  when  it  ap- 
pears in  our  minds,  than  the  name  Centaur  has  falsehood  in  it, 
when  it  is  pronounced  by  our  mouths  or  written  on  paper.  For 
truth  or  falsehood  lying  always  in  some  affirmation,  or  negation, 
mental  or  verbal,  our  ideas  are  not  capable,  an)  of  them,  of  being 
false,  till  the  mind  passes  some  judgment  on  them  ;  that  is,  affirms 
or  denies  something  of  them. 

§  4.    IDEAS   REFERRED  TO  ANY    THING,  MAY  BE  TRUE  OR  FALSE. 

Whenever  the  mind  refers  any  of  its  ideas  to  any  thing  extra- 
neous to  them,  they  are  then  capable  to  be  called  true  or  false. 
Because  the  mind  in  such  a  reference  makes  a  tacit  supposition 
of  their  conformity  to  that  thing  ;  which  supposition,  as  it  hap- 
pens to  be  true  or  false,  so  the  ideas  themselves  come  to  be 
denominated.  The  most  usual  cases,  wherein  this  happens,  are 
these  following  : 

§  5.   OTHER  MEN'S  IDEAS  REAL  EXISTENCES,  AND  SUPPOSED  REAL  ESSEN- 
CES, ARE   WHAT  MEN  USUALLY  REFER  THEIR  IDEAS  TO. 

First,  when  the  mind  supposes  any  idea  it  has  conformable  to 
that  in  other  men's  minds,  called  by  the  same  common  name: 
v.  g.  when  the  mind  intends  or  judges  its  ideas  of  justice,  tem- 
perance, religion,  to  be  the  same  with  what  other  men  give  those 
names  to. 

Secondly,  When  the  mind  supposes  any  idea  it  has  in  itself 
to  be  conformable  to  some  real  existence.  Thus  the  two  ideas, 
of  a  man  and  a  Centaur,  supposed  to  be  the  ideas  of  real  sub- 
stances, are  the  one  true,  and  ihe  other  false  ;  the  one  having  a 
conformity  to  what  has  really  existed,  the  other  not. 

Thirdly,  When  the  mind  refers  any  of  its  ideas  to  the  real 
constitution  and  essence  of  any  thing,  whereon  all  it  properties 
depend  :  and  thus  the  greatest  part,  if  not  all  our  ideas  of  sub- 
stances, are  false. 


360  OF  TRUE  AND  FALSE  IDEAS.  [BOOK  II. 

§  6.    THE  CAUSE  OF  SUCH  REFERENCES. 

These  suppositions  the  mind  is  very  apt  tacitly  to  make  con- 
cerning its  own  ideas.  But  yet,  if  we  will  examine  it,  we  shall 
find  it  is  chiefly,  if  not  only,  concerning  its  abstract  complex 
ideas.  For  the  natural  tendency  of  the  mind  being  towards 
knowledge;  and  finding  that,  if  it  should  proceed  by  and  dwell 
upon  any  particular  things,  its  progress  would  be  very  slow, 
and  its  work  endless  :  therefore  to  shorten  its  way  to  knowledge, 
and  make  each  perception  more  comprehensive  ;  the  first  thing 
it  does,  as  the  foundation  of  the  easier  enlarging  its  knowledge, 
either  by  contemplation  of  the  things  themselves  that  it  would 
know,  or  conference  with  others  about  them,  is  to  bind  them 
into  bundles,  and  rank  them  so  into  sorts,  that  what  knowledge 
it  gets  of  any  of  them,  it  may  thereby  with  assurance  extend 
to  all  of  that  sort ;  and  so  advance  by  larger  steps  in  that,  which 
is  its  great  business,  knowledge.  This,  as  I  have  elsewhere 
showed,  is  the  reason  why  we  collect  things  under  comprehen- 
sive ideas,  with  names  annexed  to  them,  into  genera  and  species. 
i.  e,  into  kinds  and  sorts. 

§7. 

If  therefore  we  will  warily  attend  to  the  motions  of  the  mind, 
and  observe  what  course  it  usually  takes  in  its  way  to  know- 
ledge ;  we  shall,  1  think,  find  that  the  mind  having  got  any 
idea,  which  it  thinks  it  may  have  use  of,  either  in  contempla- 
tion or  discourse,  the  first  ihing  it  does,  is  to  abstract  it,  and 
then  get  a  name  to  it ;  and  so  lay  it  up  in  its  storehouse,  the  me- 
mory, as  containing  the  essence  of  a  sort  of  things,  of  which 
that  name  is  always  to  be  the  mark.  Hence  it  is,  that  we  may 
often  observe,  that  when  any  one  sees  a  new  thing  of  a  kind 
that  he  knows  not,  he  presently  asks  what  it  is,  meaning  by  that 
inquiry,  nothing  but  the  name.  As  if  the  name  carried  with  it 
the  knowledge  of  the  species,  or  the  essence  of  it :  whereof  it 
is  indeed  used  as  the  mark,  and  is  generally  supposed  annexed 
to  it. 

§8. 

But  this  abstract  idea  being  something  in  the  mind  between 
the  thing  that  exists,  and  the  name  that  is  given  it ;  it  is  in  our 
ideas,  that  both  the  rightness  of  our  knowledge,  and  the  pro- 
priety or  intelligibleness  of  our  speaking,  consists.  And  hence 
it  is,  that  men  are  so  forward  to  suppose,  that  the  abstract  ideas 
they  have  in  their  minds,  are  such  as  agree  to  the  things  exist- 
ing without  them,  to  which  they  are  referred  ;  and  are  the  same 
also,  to  which  the  names  they  give  them  do,  by  the  use  and  pro- 
priety of  that  language,  belong.  For  without  this  double  con- 
formity of  their  ideas,  they  find  they  should  both  think  amiss  of 
things  in  themselves,  and  talk  of  them  unintelligibly  to  others. 


OH.  XXXII.]  QV  TRUE  AXD  FALSE  IDEA.-,. 

§  9.    SIMI>LE  IDEAS  MAY  BE  FALSE,  IN    REFERENCE  TO    OTHERS  OF    THE 
SAME  NAM?;,  BUT  ARE  LEAST  LIABLE  TO  BE  SO. 

First  then,  I  say,  that  when  the  truth  of  our  ideas  is  judged  of 
by  the  conformity  they  have  to  the  ideas  which  other  men  have, 
and  commonly  signify  by  the  same  name,  they  may  be  any  of 
them  false.  But  yet  simple  ideas  are  least  of  all  liable  to  be  so 
mistaken  ;  because  a  man  by  his  senses,  and  every  day's  obser- 
vation, may  easily  satisfy  himself  what  the  simple  ideas  are  which 
their  several  names  that  are  in  common  use  stand  for;  they 
being  but  few  in  number,  and  such  as  if  he  doubts  or  mistake-: 
in,  he  may  easily  rectify,  by  the  objects  they  are  toi>e  found  in. 
Therefore  it  is  seldom  that  any  one  mistakes  in  his  names  of  sim- 
ple ideas,  or  applies  the  name  red  to  the  idea  green,  or  the  name 
sweetto  the  idea  bitter  ;  much  less  are  men  apt  to  confound  the 
names  of  ideas  belonging  to  different  senses,  and  call  a  colour  by 
the  name  of  a  taste,  6ic. ;  whereby  it  is  evident  that  the  simple 
ideas  they  call  by  any  name  are  commonly  the  same  that  others 
have  and  mean  when  they  use  the  same  names. 

§  10.    IDEAS  OF  MIXED  MODES  MOST  LIABLE  TO  BE  FALSE  IN  THIS  SENS] 

Complex  ideas  are  much  more  liable  to  be  false  in  this  respeel; 
and  the  complex  ideas  of  mixed  modes  much  more  than  those  of 
substances  :  because  in  substances  (especially  those  which  the 
common  and  unborrowed  names  of  any  language  are  applied  to) 
some  remarkable  sensible  qualities,  serving  ordinarily  to  distin- 
guish one  sort  from  another,  easily  preserve  those,  who  take  any 
care  in  the  use  of  their  words,  from  applying  them  to  sorts  of 
substances  to  which  they  do  not  at  all  belong.  But  in  mixed 
modes  we  are  much  more  uncertain  ;  it  being  not  so  easy  to 
determine  of  several  actions,  whether  they  are  to  be  called  justice 
or  cruelty,  liberality  or  prodigality.  And  so  in  referring  our 
ideas  to  those  of  other  men,  called  by  the  same  names,  ours  may 
be  false  ;  and  the  idea  in  our  minds,  which  we  express  by  the 
word  justice,  may  perhaps  be  that  which  ought  to  have  another 
name. 

§  11.    OR  AT  LEAST  TO  BE  THOUGHT  FALSE. 

But  whether  or  no  our  ideas  of  mixed  modes  are  more  liablr 
than  any  sort  to  be  different  from  those  of  other  men,  which 
are  marked  by  the  same  names,  this  at  least  is  certain,  that  this 
sort  of  falsehood  is  much  more  familiarly  attributed  to  our  idea-; 
of  mixed  modes  than  to  any  other.  When  a  man  is  thought  to 
have  a  false  idea  of  justice,  or  gratitude,  or  glory,  it  is  for  no  other 
reason  but  that  his  agrees  not  with  the  ideas  which  each  of  those 
names  arc  the  signs  of  in  other  men.  * . 

§   12.    AND  WHY. 

The  reason  whereof  seems  to  me  to  be  this  :  that  the  abstract 
ideas  of  mixed  mode?  being  men's  voluntary  combinations  oi 

Vol,  I  1G 


"362  OF  TaDE  AND  FALSE  IDEAS.  [BOOK  II. 

such  a  precise  collection  of  simple  ideas, — and  so  the  essence  of 
each  species  being  made  by  men  alone,  whereof  we  have  no  other 
sensible  standard  existing  any  where  but  the  name  itself,  or  the 
definition  of  that  name, — we  have  nothing  else  to  refer  these  our 
ideas  of  mixed  modes  to,  as  a  standard  to  which  we  would  con- 
form them,  but  the  ideas  of  those  who  are  thought  to  use  those 
names  in  their  most  proper  significations  ;  and  so  as  our  ideas 
conform  or  diifer  from  them,  they  pass  for  true  or  false.  And 
thus  much  concerning  the  truth  and  falsehood  of  our  ideas,  in 
reference  to  their  names. 

4    13.    AS  REFERRED  TO  REAL  EXISTENCES,  NONE  OF  OUR  IDEAS  CAN    BE 
FALSE,  BUT  THOSE  OF    SUBSTANCES. 

Secondly,  as  to  the  truth  and  falsehood  of  our  ideas,  in  refer- 
ence to  the  real  existence  of  things ;  when  that  is  made  the 
standard  of  their  truth,  none  of  them  can  be  termed  false,  but 
oaly  our  complex  ideas  of  substances. 

§   14.    FIRST,  SIMPLE  IDEAS  IN  THIS  SENSE  NOT  FALSE,  AND  WHY. 

First,  our  simple  ideas  being  barely  such  perceptions  as  God 
has  fitted  us  to  receive,  and  given  power  to  external  objects  to 
produce  in  us  by  established  laws  and  ways,  suitable  to  his  wis- 
dom and  goodness,  though  incomprehensible  to  us,  their  truth 
consists  in  nothing  else  but  in  such  appearances  as  arc  produced 
in  us,  and  must  be  suitable  to  those  powers  he  has  placed  in 
external  objects,  or  else  they  could  not  be  produced  in  us  :  and 
thus  answering  those  powers,  they  are  what  they  should  be,  true 
ideas.  Nor  do  they  become  liable  to  any  imputation  of  false- 
hood, if  the  mind  (as  in  most  men  I  believe  it  does)  judges  these 
ideas  to  be  in  the  things  themselves.  For  God,  in  his  wisdom, 
having  set  them  as  marks  of  distinction  in  things,  whereby  we 
may  be  able  to  discern  one  thing  from  another,  and  so  choose 
a  vy  of  them  for  our  uses,  as  we  have  occasion  ;  it  alters  not  the 
nature  of  our  simple  idea,  whether  we  think  that  the  idea  of  blue 
be  in  the  violet  itself,  or  in  our  mind  only ;  and  only  the  power  of 
producing  it  by  the  texture  of  its  parts,  reflecting  the  particles 
of  light  after  a  certain  manner,  to  be  in  the  violet  itself.  For 
that  texture  in  the  object,  by  a  regular  and  constant  operation, 
producing  the  same  idea  of  blue  in  us,  it  serves  us  to  distinguish, 
by  our  eyes,  that  from  any  other  thing,  whether  that  distinguishing 
mark,  as  it  is  really  in  the  violet,  be  only  a  peculiar  texture  of 
parts,  or  else  that  very  colour,  the  idea  whereof  (which  is  in  us,) 
is  the  exact  resemblance.  And  it  is  equally  from  that  appear- 
ance to  be  denominated  blue,  whether  it  be  that  real  colour, 
or  only  a  peculiar  texture  in  it,  that  causes  in  us  that  idea  : 
since  the  name  blue  notes  properly  nothing  but  that  mark  of 
distinction  that  is  in  a  violet,  discernible  only  by  our  eyes,  what- 
ever it  consists  in  :  thnt  being  beyond  our  capacities  distinctly  to 


CH.  XXXII.']  ©JP  XKL'E  AJ>I>  FALSE  IDEAS.  3'63 

know,  and  perhaps  would  be  of  less  use  to  us  if  we  had  faculties 
to  discern. 

§  15.   though  one  man's  idka  of  blue  should  be  DIFFERENT  from 

another's. 

Neither  would  it  carry  any  imputation  of  falsehood  to  out- 
simple  ideas,  if,  by  the  different  structure  of  our  organs,  it  were 
so  ordered,  that  the  same  object  should  produce  in  several  mien's 
minds  different  ideas  at  the  same  time  ;  v.  g.  if  the  idea  that  a 
violet  produced  in  one  man's  mind  by  his  eyes  were  the  same, 
that  a  marigold  produced  in  another  man's,  and  vice  v(rsa.  For 
since  this  could  never  be  known,  because  one  man's  mind  could 
not  pass  into  another  man's  body,  to  perceive  what  appearances 
were  produced  by  those  organs  ;  neither  the  ideas  hereby,  nor 
the  names  would  be  at  all  confounded,  or  any  falsehood  be  in 
cither.  For  all  things  that  had  the  texture  of  a  violet,  producing 
constantly  the  idea  that  he  called  blue ;  and  those  which  had 
the  texture  of  a  marigold,  producing  constantly  the  idea  which 
he  as  constantly  called  yellow  ;  whatever  those  appearances  were 
in  his  mind,  he  would  be  able  as  regularly  to  distinguish  things 
for  his  use  by  those  appearances,  and  understand  and  signify  those, 
distinctions  marked  by  the  names  blue  and  yellow,  as  if  the 
appearances,  or  ideas  in  his  mind,  received  from  those  two 
flowers,  were  exactly  the  same  with  the  ideas  in  other  men's 
minds.  1  am  nevertheless  very  apt  to  think  that  the  sensible 
ideas  produced  by  any  object  in  different  men's  minds  are  most 
commonly  very  near  and  undiscernibly  alike.  For  which  opi- 
nion, I  think,  there  might  be  many  reasons  offered  :  but  that  being 
besides  my  present  business,  1  shall  not  trouble  my  reader  with 
them  ;  but  only  mind  him,  that  the  contrary  supposition,  if  it 
could  be  proved,  is  of  little  use,  either  for  the  improvement  of 
our  knowledge  or  conveniency  of  life  ;  and  so  we  need  not 
trouble  ourselves  to  examine  it. 

16.    FIRST,  SIMPLE  IDEAS  IN-  THIS  SENSE  NOT  FALSE,   AND  WHY. 

From  what  has  been  said  concerning  our  simple  ideas,  I  think 
it  evident,  that  our  simple  ideas  can  none  of  them  be  false  in 
respect  of  (hings  existing  without  us.  For  the  truth  of  these 
appearances,  or  perceptions  in  our  minds,  consisting,  as  has  been 
said,  only  in  their  being  answerable  to  the  powers  in  external  ob- 
jects to  produce  by  our  senses  such  appearances  in  us  ; — and  each 
of  them  being  in  the  mind,  such  as  it  is,  suitable  to  the  power  that 
produced  it,  and  which  alone  it  represents; — it  cannot  upon  that 
account.or  as  referred  to  such  a  pattern,  be  false.  Blue  and  yel- 
low, bitter  or  sweet,  can  never  be  false  ideas  :  these  perceptions  in 
the  mind  arc  just  such  as  they  are  there,  answering  the  powers 
appointed  by  God  to  produce  them  ;  and  so  are  truly  what  they 
are  and  arc  intended  to  be.  Indeed  the  names  may  be  misap- 
plied ;  but  that  in  this  respect  makes  no  falsehood  in  the  idc;<s 


364  Oi'  !KL"i.  AM>  PAtSE  IDEAS.  [BOOK  II. 

as  if  a  man  ignorant  in  the  English  tongue  should  call  purple 
scarlet. 

§  17.  SECONDLY,  MODES  NOT  FALSE. 

Secondly,  neither  can  our  complex  ideas  of  modes,  in  reference 
to  the  essence  of  any  thing  really  existing,  be  false.  Because 
whatever  complex  idea  1  have  of  any  mode,  it  hath  no  reference 
to  any  pattern  existing  and  made  by  nature  :  it  is  not  supposed 
to  contain  in  it  any  other  ideas  than  what  it  hath  ;  nor  to  repre- 
sent any  thing  but  such  a  complication  of  ideas  as  it  does. 
Thus  when  I  have  the  idea  of  such  an  action  of  a  man,  who 
forbears  to  afford  himself  such  meat,  drink,  and  clothing,  and 
other  conveniences  of  life,  as  his  riches  and  estate  will  be  suffi- 
cient to  supply,  and  his  station  requires,  I  have  no  false  idea ; 
hut  such  an  one  as  represents  an  action,  either  as  I  find  or  imagine 
it ;  and  so  is  capable  of  neither  truth  nor  falsehood.  But  when  I 
give  the  name  frugality  or  virtue  to  this  action,  then  it  may  be 
c ailed  a  false  idea,  if  thereby  it  be  supposed  to  agree  with  -that 
idea,  to  which,  in  propriety  of  speech,  the  name  of  frugality  doth 
belong  ;  or  to  be  conformable  to  that  law,  which  is  the  standard 
of  virtue  and  vice. 

§  18.    THIRDLY,  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES,  WHEN  FALSE. 

Thirdly,  our  complex  ideas  of  substances,  being  all  referred  to 
patterns  in  things  themselves,  may  be  false.  That  they  are  all 
false,  when  looked  upon  as  the  representations  of  the  unknown 
essences  of  things,  is  so  evident,  that  there  needs  nothing  to  be 
said  of  it.  I  shall  therefore  pass  over  that  chimerical  supposition, 
and  consider  them  as  collections  of  simple  ideas  in  the  mind 
taken  from  combinations  of  simple  ideas  existing  together,  con- 
stantly in  things,  of  which  patterns  they  are  the  supposed  copies  : 
and  in  this  reference  of  them  to  the  existence  of  things  they  are 
false  ideas.  1.  When  they  put  together  simple  ideas,  which  in 
the  real  existence  of  things  have  no  union  ;  as  when  to  the  shape 
and  size  that  exist  together  in  a  horse  is  joined,  in  the  same  com- 
plex idea,  the  power  of  barking  like  a  dog;  which  three  idea?, 
however  put  together  into  one  in  the  mind,  were  never  united  in 
nature  ;  and  this  therefore  may  be  called  a  false  idea  of  a  horse. 
2.  Ideas  of  substances  are,  in  this  respect,  also  false,  when  from 
any  collection  of  simple  ideas  that  do  always  exist  together,  there 
is  separated,  by  a  direct  negation,  any  other  simple  idea  which  is 
constantly  joined  with  them.  Thus,  if  to  extension,  solidity, 
fusibility,  the  peculiar  weightiness,  and  yellow  colour  of  gold, 
any  one  join  in  his  thoughts  the  negation  of  a  greater  degree  of 
fixedness  than  is  in  lead  or  copper,  he  may  be  said  to  have  a 
false  complex  idea,  as  well  as  when  he  joins  to  those  other  simple 
ones  the  idea  of  perfect  absolute  fixedness.  For  either  way,  the 
complex  idea  of  gold  being  made  up  of  such  simple  ones  as  have 
no  union  in  nature,  maybe  termed  false.     But  if  we  leave  out  of 


CH.  XXXII.]  OF  TRUE  AND  FALSE  IDE  IS* 

this  his  complex  idea,  that  of  fixedness  quite,  without  either 
actually  joining  to,  or  separating  of  it  from  the  rest  in  his  mind, 
it  is,  I  think,  to  be  looked  on  as  an  inadequate  and  imperfect  idea, 
rather  than  a  false  one  ;  since  though  it  contains  not  all  the  sim- 
ple ideas  that  are  united  in  nature,  vet  it  puts  none  together  but 
what  do  really  exist  together. 

19.    TRUTH  OR  FALSEHOOD  ALWAYS  SUPPOSES  AFFIRMATION  OR. 
NEGATION. 

Though  in  compliance  with  the  ordinary  way  of  speaking  1 
have  showed  in  what  sense,  and  upon  what  ground  our  ideas  may 
be  sometimes  called  true  or  false  ;  yet  if  we  will  look  a  little 
nearer  into  the  matter,  in  all  cases  where  any  idea  is  called  true 
or  false,  it  is  from  some  judgment  that  the  mind  makes,  or  is 
supposed  to  make,  that  is  true  or  false.  For  truth  or  falsehood, 
being  never  without  some  affirmation  or  negation,  express  or 
tacit,  it  is  not  to  be  found  but  where  signs  are  joined  and  sepa- 
rated, according  to  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  things 
they  stand  for.  The  signs  we  chiefly  use  are  either  ideas  or 
words,  wherewith  we  make  either  mental  or  verbal  proposition-. 
Truth  lies  in  so  joining  or  separating  these  representatives,  as 
the  things  they  stand  for  do  in  themselves  agree  or  disagree  ;  and 
falsehood  in  the  contrary,  as  shall  be  more  fully  shown  hereafter. 

§  20.    IDEAS  IN  THEMSELVES  NEITHER  TRUE  NOR  FALSE. 

Any  idea  then  which  we  have  in  our  minds,  whether  con- 
formable or  not  to  the  existence  of  things,  or  to  any  idea  in  the 
minds  of  other  men,  cannot  properly  for  this  alone  be  called 
false.  For  these  representations,  if  they  have  nothing  in  them 
but  what  is  really  existing  in  things  without,  cannot  be  thought 
false,  being  exact  representations  of  something  ;  nor  yet,  if  they 
have  any  thing  in  them  differing  from  the  reality  of  things  can 
they  properly  be  said  to  be  false  representations,  or  ideas  of  things 
they  do  not  represent.     But  the  mistake  and  falsehood  is, 

ft  21.    FUT  ARE  FALSE 1.    WHEN  JUDGED  AGREEABLE  TO  ANOTHER 

MAN'S  IDEA,  WITHOUT  BEING  SO. 

First,  when  the  mind  having  any  idea,  it  judges  and  concludes 
it  the  same  that  is  in  other  men's  minds,  signified  by  the  same 
name  ;  or  that  it  is  conformable  to  the  ordinary  received  signifi- 
cation or  definition  of  that  word,  when  indeed  it  is  not:  which 
i~  the  most  usual  mistake  in  mixed  modes,  though  other  ideas 
also  are  liable  to  it. 

^  22.       2.    WHEN  JUDGED  TO  AGREE  TO  REAL  EXISTENCE  WHEN    1 

DO  NOT. 

Secondly,  when  it  having  a  complex  idea  made  up  of  such 
8  collection  of  simple  ones  as  nature  never  puts  together,  it 
judges  il  to  agree  to  a  specie-  of  creatures  really  existing 


366  OF  TRUE  AND  FALSE  IDKAS.  [.BOOK  IJ« 

when  it  joins  the  weight  of  tin  to  the  colour,  fusibility,  and  fixed- 
ness of  gold. 

§  23.   3.  WHEN  JUDGED  ADEQUATE,  WITHOUT  BEING  SO. 

Thirdly,  when  in  its  complex  idea  it  has  united  a  certain  num- 
ber of  simple  ideas  that  do  really  exist  together  in  some  sort  of 
creatures,  but  has  also  left  out  others  as  much  inseparable,  it 
judges  this  to  be  a  perfect  complete  idea  of  a  sort  of  things  which 
really  it  is  not ;  v.  g.  having  joined  the  ideas  of  substance,  yel- 
low, malleable,  most  heavy,  and  fusible,  it  takes  that  complex 
idea  to  be  the  complete  idea  of  gold,  when  yet  its  peculiar  fixed- 
ness and  solubility  in  aqua  regia  are  as  inseparable  from  those 
other  ideas  or  qualities  of  that  body,  as  they  are  one  from 
another. 

§  24.       4.    WHExV  JUDGED  TO  REPRESENT  THE  REAL  ESSENCE. 

Fourthly,  the  mistake  is  yet  greater,  when  I  judge  that  this 
complex  idea  contains  in  it  the  real  essence  of  any  body  exist- 
ing, when  at  least  it  contains  but  some  few  of  those  properties 
which  flow  from  its  real  essence  and  constitution.  I  say,  only 
some  few  of  those  properties  ;  for  those  properties  consisting 
mostly  in  the  active  and  passive  powers  it  has,  in  reference  to 
other  things,  all  that  are  vulgarly  known  of  any  one  body,  of 
which  the  complex  idea  of  that  kind  of  things  is  usually  made, 
are  but  a  very  few,  in  comparison  of  what  a  man,  that  has  several 
ways  tried  and  examined  it,  knows  of  that  one  sort  of  things  : 
and  all  that  the  most  expert  man  knows  are  but  a  (ew,  in  com- 
parison of  what  are  really  in  that  body,  and  depend  on  its  inter- 
nal or  essential  constitution.  The  essence  of  a  triangle  lies  in 
a  very  little  compass,  consists  in  a  very  few  ideas, — three  lines 
including  a  space  make  up  that  essence, — but  the  properties  that 
flow  from  this  essence  are  more  than  can  be  easily  known  or 
enumerated.  So  I  imagine  it  is  in  substances,  their  real  essences 
lie  in  a  little  compass,  though  the  properties  flowing  from  that, 
internal  constitution  are  endless. 

§  25.    IDEAS,  WHEN  FALSE. 

To  conclude,  a  man  having  no  notion  of  any  thing  without 
him,  but  by  the  idea  he  has  of  it  in  his  mind  (which  idea  he  has 
a  power  to  call  by  what  name  he  pleases,)  he  may  indeed  make 
an  idea  neither  answering  the  reason  of  things,  nor  agreeing  to 
the  idea  commonly  signified  by  other  people's  words  ;  but  cannot 
make  a  wrong  or  false  idea  of  a  thing,  which  is  no  otherwise 
known  to  him  but  by  the  idea  he  has  of  it :  v.  g.  when  1  frame 
an  idea  of  the  legs,  arms,  and  body  of  a  man,  and  join  to  this  a 
horse's  head  and  neck,  I  do  not  make  a  false  idea  of  any  thing  ; 
because  it  represents  nothing  without  me.  But  when  1  call  it  a 
man  or  Tartar,  and  imagine  it  to  represent  some  real  bciitu 
without  me.  or  to  be  the  same  idea  that  others  call  by  the  safti<? 


II!.  XXXIII.J  OF  THE  ASSOCIATION  OP  IDEAS. 

name  ;  in  cither  of  these  cases  I  may  err.  And  upon  this  accouni 
it  is.  that  it  comes  to  be  termed  a  false  idea  ;  though  indeed  the 
falsehood  lies  not  in  the  idea,  but  in  that  tacit  mental  proposition 
wherein  a  conformity  and  resemblance  is  attributed  to  it,  which 
it  has  not.  But  yet,  if  having  framed  such  an  idea  in  my  mind, 
without  thinking  either  that  existence,  or  the  name  man  or 
Tartar,  belongs  to  it,  I  will  call  it  man  or  Tartar,  I  may  be  justly 
thought  fantastical  in  the  naming,  but  not  erroneous  in  my  judg- 
ment ;  nor  the  idea  any  way  false. 

§  26.    MORE  PROPERLY  TO  BE  CALLED  RIGHT  OR  WRONG. 

Upon  the  whole  matter,  I  think,  that  our  ideas,  as  they  arc 
considered  by  the  mind,  either  in  reference  to  the  proper  signifi- 
cation of  their  names,  or  in  reference  to  the  reality  of  things, 
may  very  fitly  be  called  right  or  wrong  ideas,  according  as  they 
agree  or  disagree  to  those  patterns  to  which  they  are  referred. 
But  if  any  one  had  rather  call  them  true  or  false,  it  is  fit  he 
use  a  liberty,  which  every  one  has,  to  call  things  by  those  names 
he  thinks  best ;  though,  in  propriety  of  speech,  truth  or  false- 
hood will,  I  think,  scarce  agree  to  them,  but  as  they,  some  way 
or  other,  virtually  contain  in  them  some  mental  proposition. 
The  ideas  that  axe  in  a  man's  mind,  simply  considered,  cannot 
be"wrong,  unless  complex  ones,  wherein  inconsistent  parts  are 
jumbled  together.  All  other  ideas  arc  in  themselves  right,  and 
the  knowledge  about  them  right  and  true  knowledge  :  but  when 
we  come  to  refer  them  to  any  thing,  as  to  their  patterns  and 
archetypes,  then  they  are  capable  of  being  wrong,  as  far  as  thev 
disagree  with  such  archetypes. 


CHAPTER  XXXI II. 

OF  THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDF.  \ 

§  1.  SOMETHING  UNREASONABLE  IN  MOST  MEN. 

There  is  scarce  any  one  that  does  not  observe  something  that 
^eerns  odd  to  him,  and  is  in  itself  really  extravagant  in  the  opi- 
nions, reasonings,  and  actions  of  other  men.  The  least  (law  of 
this  kind,  if  at  all  different  from  his  own,  every  one  is  quick- 
sighted  enough  to  espy  in  another,  and  will  by  the  authority  of 
reason  forwardly  condemn,  though  he  be  guilty  of  much  greater 
unreasonableness  in  his  own  tenets  and  conduct,  which  he  never 
perceives,  and  will  very  hardly,  if  at  all,  be  convinced  of. 

§  2.    NOT  WHOLLY    FROM    SEI.K-LOVE. 

This  proceeds  not  wholly  from  self-love,  though  that  has  often 
i  great  hand  in  it.     Men  of  fair  minds,  and  not  given  up  to  the 


368  THE  ASSOCIATION  OF    IDEA*.  [BOOK  II, 

overweening  of  self-flattery,  arc  frequently  guilty  of  it ;  and  in, 
many  cases  one  with  amazement  hears  the  arguings,  and  is 
astonished  at  the  obstinacy  of  a  worthy  man,  who  yields  not 
to  the  evidence  of  reason,  though  laid  before  him  as  clear  as 
daylight. 

§  3.    NOT  FROM  EDUCATION. 

This  sort  of  unreasonableness  is  usually  imputed  to  education 
and  prejudice,  and  for  the  most  part  truly  enough,  though  that 
reaches  not  the  bottom  of  the  disease,  nor  shows  distinctly 
enough  whence  it  rises,  or  wherein  it  lies.  Education  is  often 
rightly  assigned  for  the  cause,  and  prejudice  is  a  good  general 
name  for  the  thing  itself;  but  yet,  I  think,  he  ought  to  look  a 
little  farther,  who  would  trace  this  sort  of  madness  to  the  root 
it  springs  from,  and  so  explain  it,  as  to  show  whence  this  flaw 
has  its  original  in  very  sober  and  rational  minds,  and  wherein  it 
consists. 

§  4.    A  DEGREE  OF  MADNESS. 

I  shall  be  pardoned  for  calling  it  by  so  harsh  a  name  as  mad- 
ness, when  it  is  considered,  that  opposition  to  reason  deserves 
that  name,  and  is  really  madness ;  and  there  is  scarce  a  man  so 
free  from  it,  but  that  if  he  should  always,  on  all  occasions,  argue 
or  do  as  in  some  cases  he  constantly  does,  would  not  be  thought 
fitter  for  Bedlam  than  civil  conversation.  I  do  not  here  mean 
when  he  is  under  the  power  of  an  unruly  passion,  but  in  the 
steady  calm  course  of  his  life.  That  which  will  yet  more  apolo- 
gize for  this  harsh  name,  and  ungrateful  imputation  on  the  greatest 
part  of  mankind,  is,  that  inquiring  a  little  by  the  by  into  the  nature 
of  madness,  B.  ii.  c.  xi.  §  13.  I  found  it  to  spring  from  the  very 
same  root,  and  to  depend  on  the  very  same  cause  we  are  here 
speaking  of.  This  consideration  of  the  thing  itself,  at  a  time 
when  I  thought  not  the  least  on  the  subject,  which  I  am  now 
treating  of,  suggested  it  to  me.  And  if  this  be  a  weakness  to 
which  all  men  are  so  liable  ;  if  this  be  a  taint  which  so  universally 
infects  mankind  ;  the  greater  care  should  be  taken  to  lay  it  open 
under  its  due  name,  thereby  to  excite  the  greater  care  in  its  pre- 
vention and  cure. 

§  5.   FROM  A  WRONG  CONNEXION  OF  IDEAS. 

Some  of  our  ideas  have  a  natural  correspondence  and  con- 
nexion one  with  another  :  it  is  the  office  and  excellency  of  our 
reason  to  trace  these,  and  hold  them  together  in  that  union  and 
correspondence  which  is  founded  in  their  peculiar  beings.  Be- 
sides this,  there  is  another  connexion  of  ideas  wholly  owing  to 
chance  or  custom :  ideas,  that  in  themselves  are  not  all  of  kin. 
come  to  be  so  united  in  some  men's  minds,  that  it  is  very 
hard  to  separate  them  ;  they  always  keep  in  company,  and 
the  one  no  sooner  at  anytime  comes  into  the  understanding, 


.  II.  XXXIII.']  OF  THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IBEAS.  3GD 

but  its  associate  appears  with  it ;  and  if  they  are  more  than  two, 
which  are  thus  united,  the  whole  gang,  always  inseparable,  6how 
themselves  together. 

§  6.    THIS    CONNEXION  HOW  MADE. 

This  strong  combination  of  ideas,  not  allied  by  nature,  the 
mind  makes  in  itself  either  voluntarily  or  by  chance  ;  and  hence 
it  comes  in  different  men  to  be  very  different,  according  to  their 
different  inclinations,  education,  interests,  &c.  Custom  settles 
habits  of  thinking  in  the  understanding,  as  well  as  of  determining 
in  the  will,  and  of  motions  in  the  body  ;  all  which  seems  to  be 
but  trains  of  motion  in  the  animal  spirits,  which,  once  set  agoing, 
continue  in  the  same  steps  they  have  been  used  to,  which,  by 
often  treading,  are  worn  into  a  smooth  path,  and  the  motion  in 
it  becomes  easy,  and  as  it  were  natural.  As  far  as  we  can  com- 
prehend thinking,  thus  ideas  seem  to  be  produced  in  our  minds  ; 
or  if  they  are  not,  this  may  serve  to  explain  their  following  one 
another  in  an  habitual  train,  when  once  they  are  put  into  their 
track,  as  well  as  it  does  to  explain  such  motions  of  the  body.  A 
musician  used  to  any  tune,  will  find,  that  let  it  but  once  begin  in 
his  head,  the  ideas  of  the  several  notes  of  it  will  follow  one 
another  orderly  in  his  understanding,  without  any  care  or  atten- 
tion, as  regularly  as  his  fingers  move  orderly  over  the  keys  of  the 
organ  to  play  out  the  tune  he  has  begun,  though  his  unattentive 
thoughts  be  elsewhere  a  wandering.  Whether  the  natural  cause 
of  these  ideas,  as  well  as  of  that  regular  dancing  of  his  fingers,  be 
the  motion  of  his  animal  spirits,  1  will  not  determine,  how  pro- 
bable soever,  by  this  instance,  it  appears  to  be  so  :  but  this  may 
help  us  a  little  to  conceive  of  intellectual  habits,  and  of  the  tying 
together  of  ideas. 

§   7.    SOME  ANTIPATHIES   AN"  F.ITF.rT  OF   IT. 

That  there  are  such  associations  of  them  made  by  custom  in 
the  minds  of  most  men,  1  think  nobody  will  question,  who  has 
well  considered  himself  or  others  ;  and  to  this,  perhaps,  might 
be  justly  attributed  most  of  the  sympathies  and  antipathies  ob- 
servable in  men,  which  work  as  strongly,  and  produce  as  regular 
effects  as  if  they  were  natural,  and  are  therefore  called  so,  though 
they  at  first  had  no  other  original  but  the  accidental  connexion 
of  two  ideas,  which  either  the  strength  of  the  first  impression,  or 
future  indulgence  so  united,  that  they  always  afterward  kept 
company  together  in  that  man's  mind,  as  if  they  were  but  one 
idea.  I  say  most  of  the  antipathies,  I  do  not  say  all,  for  some 
of  them  are  truly  natural,  depend  upon  our  original  constitution, 
and  are  born  with  us;  but  a  great  part  of  those  which  are  counted 
natural,  would  have  been  known  to  be  from  unheeded,  though, 
perhaps,  early  impressions,  or  wanton  fancies  at  first,  which  would 
have  been  acknowledged  the  original  of  them,  if  they  had  been 
warily  observed       \   crown  person  snrfeitiiyg  with  honey,  no 

Vo,  .  I. 


;»?U  OF  THE  ASSOCIATION  OP  IDEAS.  [bOOKII- 

sooner  hears  the  name  of  it,  but  his  fancy  immediately  carries 
sickness  and  qualms  to  his  stomach,  and  he  cannot  bear  the  very 
idea  of  it ;  other  ideas  of  dislike,  and  sickness,  and  vomiting, 
presently  accompany  it,  and  he  is  disturbed,  but  he  knows  from 
whence  to  date  this  weakness,  and  can  tell  how  he  got  this  indis- 
position. Had  this  happened  to  him  by  an  overdose  of  honey, 
when  a  child,  all  the  same  effects  would  have  followed,  but 
the  cause  would  have  been  mistaken,  and  the  antipathy  counted 
natural. 

§8. 

1  mention  this  not  out  of  any  great  necessity  there  is  in  this 
present  argument,  to  distinguish  nicely  between  natural  and  ac- 
quired antipathies ;  but  I  take  notice  of  it  for  another  purpose, 
viz.  That  those  who  have  children,  or  the  charge  of  their  edu- 
cation, would  think  it  worth  their  while  diligently  to  watch,  and 
carefully  to  prevent  the  undue  connexion  of  ideas  in  the  minds 
of  young  people.  This  is  the  time  most  susceptible  of  lasting 
impressions ;  and  though  those  relating  to  the  health  of  the  body, 
are  by  discreet  people  minded  and  fenced  against,  yet  I  am  apt 
to  doubt,  that  those  which  relate  more  peculiarly  to  the  mind, 
and  terminate  in  the  understanding  or  passions,  have  been  much 
less  heeded  than  the  thing  deserves :  nay,  those  relating  purely 
to  the  understanding,  have,  as  I  suspect,  been  by  most  men  wholly 
overlooked. 

§  9.    A  GREAT  CAUSE  OF  ERRORS. 

This  wrong  connexion  in  our  minds  of  ideas  in  themselves 
loose  and  independent  one  of  another,  has  such  an  influence, 
and  is  of  so  great  force  to  set  us  awry  in  our  actions,  as  well 
moral  as  natural,  passions,  reasonings,  and  notions  themselves, 
that  perhaps  there  is  not  any  one  thing  that  deserves  more  to  be 
looked  after. 

§  10.    INSTANCES. 

The  ideas  of  goblins  and  sprights,  have  really  no  more  to  do 
with  darkness,  than  light :  yet  let  but  a  foolish  maid  inculcate 
these  often  on  the  mind  of  a  child,  and  raise  them  there  together, 
possibly  he  shall  never  be  able  to  separate  them  again  so  long  as 
ne  lives  ?  but  darkness  shall  for  ever  afterward  bring  with  it  those 
frightful  ideas,  and  they  shall  be  so  joined  that  he  can  no  more 
bear  the  one  than  the  other. 

§11 

A  man  receives  a  sensible  injury  from  another,  thinks  on  the 
man  and  that  action  over  and  over  ;  and  by  ruminating  on  them 
strongly,  or  much  in  his  mind,  so  cements  those  two  ideas  toge- 
ther, that  he  makes  them  almost  one  ;  never  thinks  on  the  man, 
but  the  pain  and  displeasure  he  suffered  come  into  his  mind  with 


CM.  XXXJfl.J  OF  THE  ASSOCIATION  OK  IDEAS.  371 

it,  so  that  he  scarce  distinguishes  them,  hut  has  as  much  an  aver- 
sion for  the  one  as  the  other.  Thus  hatreds  are  often  begotten 
from  slight  and  almost  innocent  occasions,  and  quarrels  propaga- 
ted and  continued  in  the  world. 

§  12- 
A  man  has  suffered  pain  or  sickness  in  any  place  ;  he  saw  his 
friend  die  in  such  a  room  ;  though  these  have  in  nature  nothing  to 
do  one  with  another,  yet  when  the  idea  of  the  place  occurs  to  his 
mind,  it  brings  (the  impression  being  once  made)  that  of  the  pain 
and  displeasure  with  it ;  he  confounds  them  in  his  mind,  and  can 
as  little  bear  the  one  as  the  other. 

§  13.    WHY  TIME  CURES  SOME  DISORDEUS  IN  THE  MIND  WHICH  REASON 

CANNOT. 

When  this  combination  is  settled,  and  while  it  lasts,  it  is  not  in 
the  power  of  reason  to  help  us,  and  relieve  us  from  the  effects  of 
it.  Ideas  in  our  minds,  when  they  are  there,  will  operate  ac- 
cording to  their  natures  and  circumstances ;  and  here  we  see  the 
cause  why  time  cures  certain  affections,  which  reason,  though  in 
the  right,  and  allowed  to  be  so,  has  not  power  over,  nor  is  able 
against  them  to  prevail  with  those  who  are  apt  to  hearken  to  it 
in  other  cases.  The  death  of  a  child,  that  was  the  daily  delight 
of  his  mother's  eyes,  and  joy  of  her  soul,  rends  from  her 
heart  the  whole  comfort  of  her  life,  and  gives  her  all  the  torment 
imaginable  ;  use  the  consolations  of  reason  in  this  case,  and  you 
were  as  good  preach  ease  to  one  on  the  rack,  and  hope  to  allay, 
by  rational  discourses,  the  pain  of  his  joints  tearing  asunder. 
Till  time  has  by  disuse  separated  the  sense  of  that  enjoyment,  and 
its  loss  from  the  idea  of  the  child  returning  to  her  memory,  all 
representations,  though  ever  so  reasonable,  are  in  vain ;  and  there- 
fore some  in  whom  the  union  between  these  ideas  is  never  dis- 
solved, spend  their  lives  in  mourning,  and  carry  an  incurable 
sorrow  to  their  graves. 

§   14.    FARTHER  INSTANCES  OF  THE  EFFECT  OF  THE  ASSOCIATION  OF 

IDEAS. 

A  friend  of  mine  knew  one  perfectly  cured  of  madness,  by  a 
very  harsh  and  offensive  operation.  The  gentleman,  who  was 
thus  recovered,  with  great  sense  of  gratitude  and  acknowledg- 
ment, owned  the  cure  all  his  life  after,  as  the  greatest  obligation 
he  could  have  received  ;  but  whatever  gratitude  and  reason  sug- 
gested to  him,  he  could  never  bear  the  sight  of  the  operator : 
that  image  brought  back  with  it  the  idea  of  that  agony  which  he 
suffered  from  his  hands,  which  was  too  mighty  and  intolerable 
for  him  to  endure. 


oTi  OF  THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IBEAS.  [BOOK  H. 

§  13. 
Many  children  imputing  the  pain  they  endured  at  school  to 
their  books  they  were  corrected  for,  so  join  those  ideas  together, 
that  a  book  becomes  their  aversion,  and  they  are  never  recon- 
ciled to  the  study  and  use  of  them  all  their  lives  after ;  and  thus 
reading  becomes  a  torment  to  them,  which  otherwise  possibly 
they  might  have  made  the  greatest  pleasure  of  their  lives.  There 
are  rooms  convenient  enough,  that  some  men  cannot  study  in, 
and  fashions  of  vessels,  which,  though  ever  so  clean  and  commo- 
dious, they  cannot  drink  out  of,  and  that  by  reason  of  some  acci- 
dental ideas  which  are  annexed  to  them,  and  make  them  offen- 
sive :  and  who  is  there  that  hath  not  observed  some  man  to  flag 
at  the  appearance,  or  in  the  company  of  some  certain  person 
not  otherwise  superior  to  him,  but  because  having  once  on  some 
occasion  got  the  ascendant,  the  idea  of  authority  and  distance  goes 
along  with  that  of  the  person,  and  he  that  has  been  thus  sub- 
jected, is  not  able  to  separate  them  ? 

§16. 

Instances  of  this  kind  are  so  plentiful  every  where,  that  if  I 
add  one  more,  it  is  only  for  the  pleasant  oddness  of  it.  It  is  of 
a  young  gentleman,  who  having  learned  to  dance,  and  that  to 
great  perfection,  there  happened  to  stand  an  old  trunk  in  the 
room  where  he  learned.  The  idea  of  this  remarkable  piece  of 
household  stuff,  had  so  mixed  itself  with  the  turns  and  steps  of 
all  his  dances,  that  though  in  that  chamber  he  could  dance  excel- 
lently well,  yet  it  was  only  whilst  that  trunk  was  there;  nor  could 
he  perform  well  in  any  other  place,  unless  that  or  some  such  other 
trunk  had  its  due  position  in  the  room.  If  this  story  shall  be 
suspected  to  be  dressed  up  with  some  comical  circumstances,  a 
little  beyond  precise  nature,  I  answer  for  myself,  that  I  had  it 
some  years  since  from  a  very  sober  and  worthy  man,  upon  his 
own  knowledge,  as  I  report  it :  and  I  dare  say,  there  are  very 
few  inquisitive  persons,  who  read  this,  who  have  not  met  with 
accounts,  if  not  examples,  of  this  nature,  that  may  parallel,  or  at 
least  justify  this, 

§   17.    ITS  INFLUENCE  ON  INTELLECTUAL  HABITS. 

Intellectual  habits  and  defects  this  way  contracted,  are  not 
less  frequent  and  powerful,  though  less  observed.  Let  the  ideas 
of  being  and  matter  be  strongly  joined  either  by  education  or 
much  thought,  whilst  these  are  still  combined  in  the  mind,  what 
notions,  what  reasonings  will  there  be  about  separate  spirits  1 
Let  custom  from  the  very  childhood  have  joined  figure  and  shape 
to  the  idea  of  God,  and  what  absurdities  will  that  mind  be  liable 
to  about  the  Deity  ? 

Let  the  idea  of  infallibility  be  inseparably  joined  to  any  per- 
son, and  these  two  constantly  together  possess  the  mind ;  and 
then  one  body,  in  two  places  at  once,  shall,  unexamined.be  swa! 


CB.  XXXIII.]  OF  THE  ASSOCIATION  OK  IDEAS.  37«{ 

Jowed  for  a  certain  truth,  by  an  implicit  faith,  whenever  that 
imagined  infallible  person  dictates  and  demands  assent  without 
inquiry. 

§  18.    OBSERVABLE  IN  DIFFERENT  SECTS. 

Some  such  wrong  and  unnatural  combinations  of  ideas  will  be 
found  to  establish  the  irreconcileable  opposition  between  differ- 
ent sects  of  philosophy  and  religion ;  for  we  cannot  imagine  every 
one  of  their  followers  to  impose  wilfully  on  himself,  and  know- 
ingly refuse  truth  offered  by  plain  reason.  Interest,  though  it 
does  a  great  deal  in  the  case,  yet  cannot  be  thought  to  work 
whole  societies  of  men  to  so  universal  a  perverseness,  as  that 
every  one  of  them,  to  a  man,  should  knowingly  maintain  false- 
hood :  some  at  least  must  be  allowed  to  do  what  all  pretend  to, 
i.  e.  to  pursue  truth  sincerely ;  and  therefore  there  must  be  some- 
thing that  blinds  their  understandings  and  makes  them  not  see 
the  falsehood  of  what  they  embrace  for  real  truth.  That  which 
thus  captivates  their  reasons,  and  leads  men  of  sincerity  blindfold 
from  common  sense,  will,  when  examined,  be  found  to  be  what 
we  are  speaking  of;  some  independent  ideas,  of  no  alliance  to  one 
another,  are  by  education,  custom,  and  the  constant  din  of  their  par- 
ty, so  coupled  in  their  minds,  that  they  always  appear  there  toge- 
ther 5  and  they  can  no  more  separate  them  in  their  thoughts,  than 
if  they  were  but  one  idea,  and  they  operate  as  if  they  were  so. 
This  gives  sense  to  jargon,  demonstration  to  absurdities,  and  con- 
sistency to  nonsense,  and  is  the  foundation  of  the  greatest,  I  had 
almost  said  of  all  the  errors  in  the  world;  or  if  it  does  not  reach  so 
far,  it  is  at  least  the  most  dangerous  one,  since  so  far  as  it  obtains, 
it  hinders  men  from  seeing  and  examining.  When  two  things 
in  themselves  disjoined,  appear  to  the  sight  constantly  united  ; 
if  the  eye  sees  these  things  rivetted,  which  are  loose,  where  will 
you  begin  to  rectify  the  mistakes  that  follow  in  two  ideas,  that 
they  have  been  accustomed  so  to  join  in  their  minds,  as  to  sub- 
stitute one  for  the  other,  and,  as  I  am  apt  to  think,  often  without 
perceiving  it  themselves  ?  This,  whilst  they  are  under  the  deceit 
of  it,  makes  them  incapable  of  conviction,  and  they  applaud 
themselves  as  zealous  champions  for  truth,  when  indeed  they  are 
contending  for  error  ;  and  the  confusion  of  two  different  ideas 
which  a  customary  connexion  of  them  in  their  minds  hath  to 
them  made  in  effect  but  one,  tills  their  heads  with  false  views, 
and  their  reasonings  with  false  consequences. 

§19.    CONCLUSION. 

Having  thus  given  an  account  of  the  original  sorts,  and  extent 
of  our  ideas,  with  several  other  considerations,  about  these  (\ 
know  not  whether  I  may  say)  instruments  or  materials  of  our 
knowledge ;  the  method  I  at  first  proposed  to  myself,  would  now 
require,  that  I  should  immediately  proceed  to  show  what  use  the 
understanding  makes  of  them,  and  what  knowledge  we  have  by 


5?4  OF  THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS.  [BOOK  II. 

them.  This  was  that  which,  in  the  first  general  view  I  had  of 
this  subject,  was  all  that  I  thought  I  should  have  to  do:  but  upon 
a  nearer  approach,  I  find  that  there  is  so  close  a  connexion 
between  ideas  and  words  ;  and  our  abstract  ideas,  and  general 
words  have  so  constant  a  relation  one  to  another,  that  it  is  impos- 
sible to  speak  clearly  and  distinctly  of  our  knowledge,  which  all 
consists  in  propositions,  without  considering,  first,  the  nature, 
use,  and  signification  of  language  ;  which,  therefore,  must  be  the 
business  of  the  next  book. 


376 


BOOK  III. 


OF  WORDF. 


CHAPTER  I. 

OF  WORDS,  OR  LANGUAGE  IN  GENERAL. 

§   1.    MAN  FITTED  TO  FORM  ARTICULATE  SOUNDS. 

God  having  designed  man  for  a  sociable  creature,  made  him 
not  only  with  an  inclination,  and  under  a  necessity  to  have  fel- 
lowship with  those  of  his  own  kind  but  furnished  him  also  with 
language,  which  was  to  be  the  great  instrument  and  common  tie 
of  society.  Man,  therefore,  had  by  nature  his  organs  so  fashion- 
ed, as  to  be  fit  to  frame  articulate  sounds,  which  we  call  words. 
But  this  was  not  enough  to  produce  language  ;  for  parrots,  and 
several  other  birds,  will  be  taught  to  make  articulate  sounds  dis- 
tinct enough,  which  yet,  by  no  means,  are  capable  of  language. 

§  2.    TO  MAKE  THEM  SIGNS  OF  IDEAS. 

Besides  articulate  sounds,  therefore,  it  was  farther  necessary 
that  he  should  be  able  to  use  these  sounds  as  signs  of  internal 
conceptions  ;  and  to  make  them  stand  as  marks  for  the  ideas 
within  his  own  mind,  whereby  they  might  be  made  known  to 
others,  and  the  thoughts  of  men's  minds  be  conveyed  from  one 
to  another. 

§3.    TO  MAKE  GENERAL  SIGNS. 

But  neither  was  this  sufficient  to  make  words  so  useful  as  they 
ought  to  be.  It  is  not  enough  for  the  perfection  of  language, 
that  sounds  can  be  made  signs  of  ideas,  unless  those  sings  can 
be  so  made  use  of,  as  to  comprehend  several  particular  things ; 
for  the  multiplication  of  words  would  have  perplexed  their  use, 
had  every  particular  thing  need  of  a  distinct  name  to  be  signi- 
fied by.  To  remedy  this  inconvenience,  language  had  yet  a 
farther  improvement  in  the  use  of  general  terms,  whereby  one 
word  was  made  to  mark  a  multitude  of  particular  existences : 
which  advantageous  use  of  sounds  was  obtained  only  by  the  dif- 
ference of  the  ideas  they  were  made  signs  of;  those  names  be- 
coming general,  which  are  made  to  stand  for  general  ideas,  and 
those  remaining  particular,  where  the  ideas  they  are  used  for  are 
particular. 


37G  OF  WORDS,  OR  LANGUAGE  IN  GENERAL.       [BOOK  III- 

§  4.    TO  MAKE  GENERAL  SIGNS. 

Besides  these  names  which  stand  for  ideas,  there  be  other 
words  which  men  make  use  of,  not  to  signify  any  idea,  but  the 
want  or  absence  of  some  ideas  simple  or  complex,  or  all  ideas 
together  ;  such  as  nihil  in  Latin,  and  in  English,  ignorance  and 
barrenness.  All  which  negative  or  privative  words,  cannot  be 
said  properly  to  belong  to,  or  signify  no  ideas  :  for  then  they 
would  be  perfectly  insignificant  sounds  ;  but  they  relate  to  posi- 
tive ideas,  and  signify  their  absence. 

§  5.    WORDS  ULTIMATELY  DERIVED  FROM  SUCH  AS  SIGNIFY    SENS1ELE 

IDEAS. 

It  may  also  lead  us  a  little  towards  the  original  of  all  our  no- 
tions and  knowledge,  if  we  remark  how  great  a  dependence  our 
words  have  on  common  sensible  ideas  ;  and  how  those,  which 
are  made  use  of  to  stand  for  actions  and  notions  quite  removed 
from  sense,  have  their  rise  from  thence,  and  from  obvious  sensi- 
ble ideas  are  transferred  to  more  abstruse  significations,  and  made 
to  stand  for  ideas  that  come  not  under  the  cognizance  of  our 
senses  ;  v.  g.  to  imagine,  apprehend,  comprehend,  adhere,  con- 
ceive, instil,  disgust,  disturbance,  tranquillity,  &c.  are  all  words 
taken  from  the  operations  of  sensible  things,  and  applied  to  cer- 
tain modes  of  thinking.  Spirit,  in  its  primary  signification,  is 
breath  ;  angel,  a  messenger;  and  I  doubt  not,  but  if  we  could 
trace  them  to  their  sources,  we  should  find,  in  all  languages,  the 
names,  which  stand  for  things  that  fall  not  under  our  senses,  to 
have  had  their  first  rise  from  sensible  ideas.  By  which  we  may 
give  some  kind  of  guess,  what  kind  of  notions  they  were,  and 
whence  derived,  which  filled  their  minds  who  were  the  first  be- 
ginners of  languages ;  and  how  nature,  even  in  the'  naming  of 
things,  unawares  suggested  to  men  the  originals  and  principles 
of  all  their  knowledge  :  whilst  to  give  names  that  might  make 
known  to  others  any  operations  they  felt  in  themselves,  or  anv 
other  ideas  that  came  not  under  their  senses,  they  were  fain 
to  borrow  words  from  ordinary  known  ideas  of  sensation,  by  that 
means  to  make  others  the  more  easily  to  conceive  those  opera- 
tions they  experimented  in  themselves,  which  made  no  outward 
sensible  appearances :  and  then  when  they  had  got  known  and 
agreed  names,  to  signify  those  internal  operations  of  their  own 
minds,  they  were  sufficiently  furnished  to  make  known  bywords 
all  their  other  ideas  ;  since  they  could  consist  of  nothing,  but 
either  of  outward  sensible  perceptions,  or  of  the  inward  ope- 
rations of  their  minds  about  them  :  we  having,  as  has  been 
proved,  no  ideas  at  all,  but  what  originally  come  either  from 
sensible  objects  without,  or  what  we  feel  within  ourselves,  from 
the  inward  workings  of  our  own  spirits,  of  which  we  are  con- 
scious to  ourselves  within. 


.  II.]  vl   l  II K  SIGNIFICATION  OF  WOl  371 

6.    DISTRIBUTION. 

But  to  understand  better  the  use  and  force  of  language,  as  sub- 
servient to  instruction  and  knowledge,  it  will  be  convenient  to 
consider, 

First,  To  what  it  is  that  names,  in  the  use  of  language,  air 
immediately  applied. 

Secondly,  Since  all  (except  proper)  names  are  general,  and 
to  stand  not  particularly  for  this  or  that  single  thing,  but  for  sorts 
and  ranks  of  things  ;  it  will  be  necessary  to  consider,  in  the  next 
place,  what  the  sorts  and  kinds,  or,  if  you  rather  like  the  Latin 
names,  what  the  species  and  genera  of  things  are  ;  wherein  they 
consist,  and  how  they  come  to  be  made.  These  being  (as 
they  ought)  well  looked  into,  we  shall  the  better  come  to  find 
the  right  use  of  words,  the  natural  advantages  and  defects  of 
language,  and  the  remedies  that  ought  to  be  used,  to  avoid  the 
inconveniences  of  obscurity  or  uncertainty  in  the  signification  of 
words,  without  which  it  is  impossible  to  discourse  with  any 
clearness  or  order  concerning  knowledge:  which  being  conver- 
sant about  propositions,  and  those  most  commonly  universal 
ones,  lias  greater  connexion  with  words  than  perhaps  is  sus- 
pected. 

These  considerations  therefore  shall  be  the  matter  of  the 
following  chapters. 


CHAPTER  II. 


OF  THE  SIGNIFICATION  OF  WORDS. 
';   1.  WORDS   IRE  SENSIBLE  SIGNS  NECESSARY  FOR  COMMUNICATION. 

Man,  though  he  has  great  variety  of  thoughts,  and  such  from 
which  others,  as  well  as  himself,  might  receive  profit  and  delight; 
yet  they  are  all  within  his  own  breast,  invisible  and  hidden  from 
others,  nor  can  of  themselves  be  made  to  appear.  The  comfort 
and  advantage  of  society  not  being  to  be  had  without  communi- 
cation of  thoughts,  it  was  necessary  that  man  should  find  out  some 
external  sensible  signs,  whereof  those  invisible  ideas  which  his 
thoughts  are  made  up  of,  might  be  made  known  to  others.  For 
this  purpose  nothing  was  so  fit,  cither  for  plenty  or  quickness,  as 
those  articulate  sounds,  which  with  so  much  ease  and  variety  he 
found  himself  able  to  make.  Thus  we  may  conceive  how  words 
which  were  by  nature  so  well  adapted  to  that  purpose,  come  to 
be  made  use  of  by  men,  as  the  signs  of  their  ideas  ;  not  by  any 
natural  connexion  that  there  is  between  particular  articulate 
sounds,  and  certain  ideas,  for  then  there  would  be  but  one  lan- 
guage among  all  men  :  but  bv  a  voluntary  imposition.,  whereby 

Voi    I.  48 


3?B  t>F  THE  ?IGMri'-  VTIO.N  "OF  WORDS.  [book  m. 

such  a  word  is  made  arbitrarily  the  mark  of  such  an  idea.  The 
use  then  of  words  is  to  be  sensible  marks  of  ideas  ;  and  the  ideas 
they  stand  for  are  their  proper  and  immediate  signification. 

8   2.    WORDS    ARE  THE    SENSIBLE  SIGNS  OK  HIS  IDEAS    WHO  USES    THEM. 

The  use  men  have  of  these  marks  being  cither  to  record  their 
own  thoughts  for  the  assistance  of  their  own  memory,  or,  as  it 
were,  to  bring  out  their  ideas,  and  lay  them  before  the  view  of 
others  ;  words  in  their  primary  or  immediate  signification  stand 
for  nothing  but  the  ideas  in  the  mind  ol  him  that  uses  them,  how 
imperfectly  soever  or  carelessly  those  ideas  are  collected  from  the 
things  which  they  are  supposed  to  represent.  When  a  man 
speaks  to  another,  it  is  that  he  may  be  understood  ;  and  the  end 
of  speech  is,  that  those  sounds,  as  marks,  may  make  known  his 
ideas  to  the  hearer.  That  then  which  words  are  the  marks  of, 
j!  re  the  ideas  of  the  speaker:  nor  can  any  one  apply  them  as 
marks  immediately  to  any  thing  else  but  the  ideas  that  he  himself 
hath,  for  this  would  be  to  make  them  signs  of  his  own  concep- 
tions, and  yet  apply  them  to  other  ideas ;  which  would  be  to 
make  them  signs,  and  not  signs  of  his  ideas  at  the  same  time ; 
and  so  in  effect,  to  have  no  signification  at  all.  Words  being 
voluntary  signs,  they  cannot  be  voluntary  signs  imposed  by  him 
on  things  he  knows  not.  That  would  be  to  make  them  signs  of 
nothing,  sounds  without  signification.  A  man  cannot  make  his 
words  the  signs  either  of  qualities  in  things,  or  of  conceptions  in 
the  mind  of  another,  whereof  he  has  none  in  his  own.  Till  he 
has  some  ideas  of  his  own,  he  cannot  suppose  them  to  correspond 
with  the  conceptions  of  another  man  ;  nor  can  he  use  any  signs 
for  them :  for  thus  they  would  be  the  signs  of  he  knows  not  what, 
which  is  in  truth  to  be  the  signs  of  nothing.  But  when  he  repre- 
sents to  himself  other  men's  ideas  by  some  of  his  own,  if  he 
consent  to  give  them  the  same  names  that  other  men  do,  it  is 
still  to  his  own  ideas  ;  to  ideas  that  he  has,  and  not  to  ideas  that 
he  has  not. 

§  3, 

This  is  so  necessary  in  the  use  of  language,  that  in  this  respect 
the  knowing  and  the  ignorant,  the  learned  and  unlearned,  use  the 
words  they  speak  (with  any  meaning)  all  alike.  They,  in  every 
man's  mouth,  stand  for  the  ideas  he  has,  and  which  he  would 
express  by  them.  A  child  having  taken  notice  of  nothing  in  the 
metal  he  hears  called  gold,  but  the  bright  shining  yellow  colour, 
he  applies  the  word  gold  only  to  his  own  idea  of  that  colour, 
and  nothing  else  ;  and  therefore  calls  the  same  colour  in  a  pea- 
cock's tairgold.  Another  that  hath  better  observed,  adds  to 
shining  yellow  great  weight ;  and  then  the  sound  gold,  when  he 
uses  it,  stands  for  a  complex  idea  of  a  shining  yellow,  and  very 
weighty  substance.  Another  adds  to  those  qualities  fusibility  ; 
and  then  the  word  gold  signifies  to  him  a  body,  bright,  yellow, 
fusible,  and  very  heavv.     Another  adds  malleability.     Each  of 


•  W.J  OF    THE   SIGNIFICATION    9S    WORDS, 

these  uses  equally  the  word  gold,  when  they  have  occasion  to 
express  the  idea  which  they  have  applied  it  to  :  but  it  is  evident 
that  each  can  apply  it  only  to  his  own  idea  ;  nor  can  he  make  it 
stand  as  a  sign  of  such  a  complex  idea  as  he  has  not.     " 

§    4.    WORDS  OFTEN  SECRETLY  REFERRED,  FIRST  TO  THE  IDC  As  IV 
OTHER  MEN'S  MINDS. 

But  though  words,  as  they  are  used  by  men,  can  properly  and 
immediately  signify  nothing  but  the  ideas  that  are  in  the  mind  of 
the  speaker  ;  yet  they  in  their  thoughts  give  them  a  secret  refer- 
ence to  two  other  things. 

First,  They  suppose  their  words  to  be  marks  of  the  ideas  in  the 
minds  also  of  other  men,  with  whom  they  communicate  :  for  else 
they  should  talk  in  vain,  and  could  not  be  understood,  if  the 
sounds  they  applied  to  one  idea  were  such  as  by  the  hearer  were 
applied  to  another  ;  which  is  to  speak  two  languages.  But  in 
(his,  men  stand  not  usually  to  examine  whether  the  idea  they  and 
those  they  discourse  with  have  in  their  minds  be  the  same  :  but 
think  it  enough  that  they  use  the  word,  as  they  imagine,  in  the 
common  acceptation  of  that  language;  in  which  they  suppose  that 
the  idea  they  make  it  a  sign  of  is  precisely  the  same,  to  which 
J  he  understanding  men  of  that  country  apply  that  name. 

§  5.    SECONDLY,  TO  THE  REALITY  OF  THINGS. 

Secondly,  Because  men  would  not  be  thought  to  talk  barelv 
of  their  own  imaginations,  but  of  things  as  really  they  are  • 
therefore  they  often  suppose  the  words  to  stand  also  for  the  reality 
of  things.  But  this  relating  more  particularly  to  substances,  and 
their  names,  as  perhaps  the  former  does  to  simple  ideas  and  modes, 
we  shall  speak  of  these  two  different  ways  of  applying  words 
more  at  large,  when  we  come  to  treat  of  the  names  of  fixed 
modes  and  substances  in  particular  :  though  give  me  leave  here 
to  say,  that  it  is  a  perverting  the  use  of  words,  and  brings  unavoid- 
able obscurity  and  confusion  into  their  signification,  whenever  we 
make  them  stand  for  any  thing  but  those  ideas  we  have  in  our 
own  minds. 

O  6.    WORDS  BV  USE  READILY  EXCITE  IDEAS. 

Concerning  words  also  it  is  farther  to  be  considered  :  first,  thai 
they  being  immediately  the  signs  of  men's  ideas,  and  by  that 
means  the  instruments  whereby  men  communicate  their  concep- 
I  ions,  and  express  to  one  another  those  thoughts  and  imaginations 
they  have  within  their  own  breasts:  there  comes  by  constant  use 
io  be  such  a  connexion  between  certain  sounds  and  the  ideas  they 
..lid  for,  that  the  names  heard  almost  as  readily  excite  certain 
ideas,  as  if  the  objects  themselves,  which  are  apt  to  produce 
them,  did  actually  affect  the  senses.  Which  is  manifestly  so  in  all 
obvious  sensible  qualities ;  and  in  all  substances  that  frequently 
■     ■■  . 


tfjjft  QF  THE  SIGNiriCAtlOJS  OF  WORDS,  [BOOK  lit,' 

$  7.    WORDS  OFTEN  USED  WITHOUT  SIGNIFICATION. 

'Secondly,  That  though  the  proper  and  immediate  signification: 
of  words  are  ideas  in  the  mind  of  the  speaker,  yet  because,  by 
familiar  use  from  our  cradles  we  come  to  learn  certain  articulate 
sounds  very  perfectly,  and  have  them  readily  on  our  tongues,  and 
always  at  hand  in  our  memories,  but  yet  are  not  always  careful 
to  examine,  or  settle  their  significations  perfectly  ;  it  often  hap- 
pens that  men,  even  when  they  would  apply  themselves  to  an 
attentive  consideration,  do  set  their  thoughts  more  on  words  than 
things.  Nay,  because  words  are  many  of  them  learned  before 
the  ideas  are  known  for  which  they  stand  ;  therefore  some,  not 
only  children,  but  men,  speak  several  words  no  otherwise  than 
parrots  do,  only  because  they  have  learned  them,  and  have  been 
accustomed  to  those  sounds.  But  so  far  as  words  are  of  use  and 
signification,  so  far  is  there  a  constant  connexion  between  the 
sound  and  the  idea,  and  a  designation  that  the  one  stands  for  the 
other  ;  without  which  application  of  them,  they  are  nothing  but 
so  much  insignificant  noise. 

§8.    THEIR  SIGNIFICATION  PERFECTLY  ARBITRARY. 

Words  by  long  and  familiar  use,  as  has  been  said,  come  to 
excite  in  men  certain  ideas  so  constantly  and  readily,  that  they 
are  apt  to  suppose  a  natural  connexion  between  them.  But  that 
they  signify  only  men's  peculiar  ideas,  and  that  by  a  perfect  arbi- 
trary imposition,  is  evident,  in  that  they  often  fail  to  evcite  in 
others  (even  that  use  the  same  language)  the  same  ideas  we  take 
them  to  be  the  signs  of:  and  every  man  has  so  inviolable  a; 
liberty  to  make  words  stand  for  what  ideas  he  pleases,  that  no 
one  hath  the  power  to  make  others  have  the  same  ideas  in  their 
minds  that  he  has,  when  they  use  the  same  words  that  he  does. 
And  therefore  the  great  Augustus  himself,  in  the  possession  of 
that  power  which  ruled  the  world,  acknowledged  he  could  not 
make  a  new  Latin  word  :  which  was  as  much  as  to  say,  that  he 
could  not  arbitrarily  appoint  what  idea  any  sound  should  be  a 
sign  of,  in  the  mouths  and  common  language  of  his  subjects.  It 
is  true,  common  use  by  a  tacit  consent  appropriates  certain 
sounds  to  certain  ideas  in  all  languages,  which  so  far  limits  the 
signification  of  that  sound,  that  unless  a  man  applies  it  to  the 
same  idea,  he  does  not  speak  properly :  and  let  me  add,  that 
unless  a  man's  words  excite  the  same  ideas  in  the  hearer,  which 
he  makes  them  stand  for  in  speaking,  he  does  not  speak  intelligi- 
bly. But  whatever  be  the  consequence  of  any  man's  using  of 
words  differently,  either  from  their  general  meaning,  or  the  par- 
ticular sense  of  the  person  to  whom  he  addresses  them,  this  is 
certain,  their  signification,  in  his  use  of  them,  is  limited  to  his 
jrdfeas,  and  they  can  be  signs  of  nothing  elso. 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF  GENERAL  TERMS. 

i  1.  THE  GREATEST  PART  OF  WORDS  GENERAL. 

All  things  that  exist  being  particulars,  it  may  perhaps  be 
thought  reasonable  that  words,  which  ought  to  be  conformed  to 
things,  should  be  so  too  ;  1  mean  in  their  signification :  but  yet 
we  find  the  quite  contrary.  The  far  greatest  part  of  words, 
that  make  all  languages,  are  general  terms  ;  which  has  not  beeu 
the  effect  of  neglect  or  chance,  but  of  reason  and  necessity. 

§  2.   FOR  EVERY  PARTICULAR  THING  TO  HAVE  A  NAME  IS  IMPOSSIBLE. 

First,  It  is  impossible  that  every  particular  thing  should  have 
a  distinct  peculiar  name.  For  the  signification  and  use  of  words, 
depending  on  that  connexion  which  the  mind  makes  between  its 
ideas  and  the  sounds  it  uses  as  signs  of  them,  it  is  necessary,  in 
1  he  application  of  names  to  things,  that  the  mind  should  have 
distinct  ideas  of  the  things,  and  retain  also  the  particular  name 
that  belongs  to  every  one,  with  its  peculiar  appropriation  to  that 
idea.  But  it  is  beyond  the  power  of  human  capacity  to  frame 
■and  retain  distinct  ideas  of  all  the  particular  things  we  meet 
with  :  every  bird  and  beast  men  saw,  every  tree  and  plant  that 
allected  the  senses,  could  not  find  a  place  in  the  most  capacious 
understanding.  If  it  be  looked  on  as  an  instance  of  a  prodigious 
memory,  that  some  generals  have  been  able  to  call  every  soldier 
in  tbeir  army  by  his  proper  name,  we  may  easily  find  a  reason 
why  men  have  never  attempted  to  give  names  to  each  sheep  in 
their  flock,  or  crow  that  flies  over  their  heads  ;  much  less  to  call 
every  leaf  of  plants,  or  grain  of  sand  that  came  in  their  way,  by 
a  peculiar  name. 

§  3.    AND   ' 

Secondly,  If  it  were  possible,  it  would  yet  be  useless  ;  because 
it  would  not  serve  to  the  chief  end  of  language.  Men  would  in 
wain  heap  up  names  of  particular  things,  that  would  not  serve 
them  to  communicate  their  thoughts.  Men  learn  names,  and 
use  them  in  talk  with  others,  only  that  they  may  be  understood  : 
which  is  then  only  done,  when  by  use  or  consent  the  sound  I 
make  by  tbe  organs  of  speech  excites  in  another  man's  mind, 
who  hears  it,  the  idea  I  apply  it  to  in  mine,  when  I  speak  it.  This 
cannot  be  done  by  Dames  applied  to  particular  things,  whereof  I 
alone  having  the  ideas  in  my  mind,  the  names  of  them  could  not 
be  significant  or  intelligible  to  another,  who  was  not.  acquainted 
\>  lib  all  those  very  particular  things  which  had  fallen  under  my 


3S-  GENERAL    TERMS.  [BOOK  III. 

§4. 
Thirdl)')  But  yet  granting  this  also  feasible  (which  I  think  is 
not.)  yet  a  distinct  name  for  every  particular  thing  would  not  be 
of  any  great  use  for  the  improvement  of  knowledge;  which 
though  founded  in  particular  things,  enlarges  itself  by  general 
views,  to  which  things  reduced  into  sorts  under  general  names 
are  properly  subservient.  These,  with  the  names  belonging  to 
them,  come  within  some  compass,  and  do  not  multiply  every 
moment,  beyond  what  either  the  mind  can  contain  or  use 
requires  :  and  therefore,  in  these,  men  have  for  the  most  part 
stopped  ;  but  yet  not  so  as  to  hinder  themselves  from  distinguish- 
ing particular  things  by  appropriated  names,  where  convenience 
demands  it.  And  therefore  in  their  own  species,  which  they 
have  most  to  do  with,  and  wherein  they  have  often  occasion  to 
mention  particular  persons,  they  make  use  of  proper  names  ;  and 
there  distinct  individuals  have  distinct  denominations. 

§  5.  WHAT  THINGS  HAVE  PROPER,  NAMES. 

Besides  persons,  countries  also,  cities,  rivers,  mountains,  and 
other  the  like  distinctions  of  place,  have  usually  found  peculiar 
names,  and  that  for  the  same  reason  ;  they  being  such  as  men 
have  often  an  occasion  to  mark  particularly,  and  as  it  were  set 
before  others  in  their  discourses  with  them.  And  I  doubt  not, 
but  if  we  had  reason  to  mention  particular  horses  as  often  as  we 
have  to  mention  particular  men,  we  should  have  proper  names 
for  the  one,  as  familiar  as  for  the  other ;  and  Bucephalus  would 
be  a  word  as  much  in  use  as  Alexander.  And  therefore  we  see 
that,  among  jockies,  horses  have  their  proper  names  to  be  known 
and  distinguished  by,  as  commonly  as  their  servants  ;  because, 
among  them,  there  is  often  occasion  to  mention  this  or  that  par- 
ticular horse,  when  he  is  out  of  sight. 

§  6.    HOW  GENERAL  WORDS  ARE. 

The  next  thing  to  be  considered  is,  how  general  words  come 
to  be  made.  For  since  all  things  that  exist  are  only  particular, 
how  come  wre  by  general  terms,  or  where  find  we  those  general 
natures  they  are  supposed  to  stand  for  ?  Words  become  general, 
by  being  made  the  signs  of  general  ideas ;  and  ideas  become 
general,  by  separating  from  them  the  circumstances  of  time,  and 
place,  and  any  other  ideas,  that  may  determine  them  to  this  or 
ihat  particular  existence.  By  this  way  of  abstraction  they  are, 
made  capable  of  representing  more  individuals  than  one  ;  each 
of  which  having  in  it  a  conformity  to  that  abstract  idea,  is  (as  we 
call  it)  of  that  sort. 


But  to  deduce;  ihis  a  little  more  distinctly,  it  will  not  perhaps 
be  amiss  to  trace  our  notions  and  names  from  their  beginning,  and 
observe  bv  what  degrees  we  proceed,  and  by  what  steps  we 


.  H.  HI.]  GENERAL  TERMS. 

enlarge  our  ideas  from  our  first  infancy.  There  is  nothing  more 
evident,  than  that  the  ideas  of  the  persons  children  converse 
with  (to  instance  in  them  alone)  are  like  the  persons  themselves. 
only  particular.  The  ideas  of  the  nurse  and  the  mother  are 
welj  framed  in  their  minds  ;  and,  like  pictures  of  them  there, 
represent  only  those  individuals.  The  names  they  first  gave  to 
them  are  confined  to  these  individuals  ;  and  the  names  of  nurse 
and  mamma  the  child  uses,  determine  themselves  to  those  per- 
sons.  Afterward,  when  time  and  a  larger  acquaintance  have 
made  them  observe,  that  there  are  a  great  many  other  things  in 
the  world  that  in  some  common  agreements  of  shape,  and  several 
other  qualities,  resemble  their  father  and  mother,  and  those  per- 
sons they  have  been  used  to,  they  frame  an  idea,  which  they  find 
Those  many  particulars  do  partake  in  ;  and  to  that  they  give  with 
others,  the  name  man  for  example.  And  thus  they  come  to  have 
a  general  name,  and  a  general  idea.  Wherein  they  make  nothing 
new,  but  only  leave  out  the  complex  idea  they  had  of  Peter  and 
James,  Mary  and  Jane,  that  which  is  peculiar  to  each,  and  retain 
only  what  is  common  to  them  all. 

§3. 

By  the  same  way  that  they  come  by  the  general  name  and  idea 
of  man,  they  easily  advance  to  more  general  names  and  notions. 
For  observing  that  several  things  that  differ  from  their  idea  of 
man,  and  cannot  therefore  be  comprehended  under  that  name, 
have  yet  certain  qualities  wherein  they  agree  with  man,  by 
retaining  only  those  qualities,  and  uniting  them  into  one  idea, 
they  have  again  another  and  more  general  idea  ;  to  which  having 
given  a  name,  they  make  a  term  of  a  more  comprehensive  exten- 
sion :  which  new  idea  is  made,  not  by  any  new  addition,  but 
only,  as  before,  by  leaving  out  the  shape,  and  some  other  pro- 
perties signified  by  the  name  man,  and  retaining  only  a  body, 
with  life,  sense,  and  spontaneous  motion,  comprehended  under 
the  name  animal. 

§  9.    GEJTEB.AL  NATURES  ARE  NOTHING  BUT  ABSTRACT  IDEAS. 

That  this  is  the  way  whereby  men  first  formed  general  ideas, 
and  general  names  to  them,  1  think,  is  so  evident,  that  there 
i.eeds  no  other  proof  of  it,  but  the  considering  of  a  man's  self, 
or  others,  and  the  ordinary  proceedings  of  their  minds  in  know- 
ledge:  and  he  that  thinks  general  natures  or  notions  arc  any 
thing  else  but  such  abstract  and  partial  ideas  of  more  complex 
ones,  taken  at  first  from  particular  existences,  will,  I  fear,  be  at 
where  to  find  them.  For  let  any  one  reflect,  and  then  tell 
me,  wherein  docs  his  idea  of  man  differ  from  that  of  Peter  and 
Paul,  or  his  idea  of  horse  from  that  of  Bucephalus,  but  in  the 
leaving  out  something  that  is  peculiar  to  each  individual,  and 
retaining  so  much  of  those  particular  complex  ideas  of  several 
particular  existences  as  they  are  found  to  agree  in?    Of  the 


384  GENERAL  TERMS.  [BOOK  III. 

complex  ideas  signified  by  the  names  man  and  horse,  leaving 
out  but  those  particulars  wherein  they  differ,  and  retaining 
only  those  wherein  they  agree,  and  of  those  making  a  new 
distinct  complex  idea,  and  giving  the  name  animal  to  it;  one 
has  a  more  general  term,  that  comprehends  with  man  several 
other  creatures.  Leave  out  of  the  idea  of  animal,  sense  and 
spontaneous  motion;  and  the  remaining  complex  idea,  made 
up  of  the  remaining  simple  ones  of  body,  life,  and  nourish- 
ment, becomes  a  more  general  one,  under  the  more  compre- 
hensive term  vivcns.  And  not  to  dwell  longer  upon  this 
particular,  so  evident  in  itself,  by  the  same  way  the  mind 
proceeds  to  body,  substance,  and  at  last  to  being,  thing,  and 
such  universal  terms,  which  stand  for  any  of  our  ideas  whatso- 
ever. To  conclude,  this  whole  mystery  of  genera  and  species, 
which  make  such  a  noise  in  the  schools,  and  are  with  justice  so 
little  regarded  out  of  them,  is  nothing  else  but  abstract  ideas, 
more  or  less  comprehensive,  with  names  annexed  to  them.  In 
all  which  this  is  constant  and  unvariable,  that  every  more  general 
term  stands  for  such  an  idea,  and  is  but  a  part  of  any  of  those 
contained  under  it. 

5   10.    WHY  THE  GENUS  IS  ORDINAFaLY   MADE  USE    OF    IN    DEFINITIONS. 

This  may  show  us  the  reason  why,  in  the  defining  of  words, 
which  is  nothing  but  declaring  their  significations,  we  make  use 
of  the  genus,  or  next  general  word  that  comprehends  it.  Which 
is  not  out  of  necessity,  but  only  to  save  the  labour  of  enumera- 
ting the  several  simple  ideas,  which  the  next  general  word  or 
genus  stands  for  ;  or,  perhaps,  sometimes  the  shame  of  not  being 
able  to  do  it.  But  though  defining  by  ge nus  and  differentia  (Y 
crave  leave  to  use  these  terms  of  art,  though  originally  Latin, 
since  they  most  properly  suit  those  notions  they  are  applied  to) 
I  say,  though  defining  by  the  genus  be  the  shortest  way,  yet  I 
think  it  may  be  doubted  whether  it  be  the  best.  This  1  am  sure, 
it  is  not  the  only,  and  so  not  absolutely  necessary.  For  definition 
being  nothing  but  making  another  understand  by  words  what  idea 
the  term  defined  stands  for,  a  definition  is  best  made  by  enume- 
rating those  simple  ideas  that  are  combined  in  the  signification  of 
the  term  defined  ;  and  if  instead  of  such  an  enumeration  men 
have  accustomed  themselves  to  use  the  next  general  term,  it  has 
not  been  out  of  necessity,  or  for  greater  clearness,  but  for  quick- 
ness and  despatch  sake.  For,  1  think,  that  to  one  who  desired 
to  know  what  idea  the  word  man  stood  for,  if  it  should  be  said, 
that  man  was  a  solid  extended  substance,  having  life,  sense,  spon- 
taneous motion,  and  the  faculty  of  reasoning;  I  doubt  not  but 
the  meaning  of  the  term  man  would  be  as  well  understood,  and 
the  idea  it  stands  for  be  at  least  as  clearly  made  known,  as  when 
it  is  defined  to  be  a  rational  animal :  which  by  the  several  defi- 
nitions of  animal,  vivcns,  and  corpus,  resolves  itself  into  those 
-enumerated  ideas.     1  have,  in  explaining  the  term  man.  followed 


Ut.  XII.  j  UEjJfEBAL  TE/tMS  33£ 

here  the  ordinary  definition  of  the  schools  :  which  though,  per- 
haps, not  the  most  exact,  yet  serves  well  enough  to  my  present 
purpose.  And  one  may,  in  this  instance,  see  what  gave  occasion 
to  the  rule,  that  a  definition  must  consist  of  genus  and  differentia; 
and  it  suffices  to  show  us  the  little  necessity  there  is  of  such  a 
rule,  or  advantage  in  the  strict  observing  of  it.  For  definitions, 
as  has  been  said,  being  only  the  explaining  of  one  word  by 
several  others,  so  that  the  meaning  or  idea  it  stands  for  may  be 
certainly  known  ;  languages  are  not  always  so  made  according 
to  the  rules  of  logic,  that  every  term  can  have  its  signification 
exactly  and  clearly  expressed  by  two  others.  Experience  suffi- 
ciently satisfies  us  to  the  contrary ;  or  else  those  who  have  made 
this  rule  have  done  ill,  that  they  have  given  us  so  few  definitions 
conformable  to  it.     But  of  definitions  more  in  the  next  chapter  •: 

§11.  GENERAL  AND  UNIVERSAL  ARE  CREATURES  OP  THE  UNDER- 
STANDING. 

To  return  to  general  words,  it  is  plain  by  what  has  been  said, 
that  general  and  universal  belong  not  to  the  real  existence  of 
things,  but  are  the  inventions  and  creatures  of  the  understand- 
ing, made  by  it  for  its  own  use,  and  concern  only  signs,  whether 
words  or  ideas.  Words  are  general,  as  has  been  said,  when 
used  for  signs  of  general  ideas,  and  so  are  applicable  indiffer- 
ently to  many  particular  things  :  and  ideas  are  general,  when 
they  are  set  up  as  the  representatives  of  many  particular  things  ; 
but  universality  belongs  not  to  things  themselves,  which  are  all 
of  them  particular  in  their  existence  ;  even  those  words  and  ■ 
ideas  which  in  their  signification  are  general.  When  therefore 
we  quit  particulars,  the  generals  that  rest  are  only  creatures  of 
our  own  making  ;  their  general  nature  being  nothing  but  the 
capacity  they  are  put  into  by  the  understanding,  of  signifying  or 
representing  many  particulars.  For  the  signification  they  have 
is  nothing  but  a  relation,  that  by  the  mind  of  man  is  added  to 
them.(l) 

(1)  Against  this  the  Bishop  of  Worcester  objects,  and  our  author*  answers  as 
followeth  :  "  However,"  saith  the  bishop,  "  the  abstracted  ideas  are  the  work 
of  the  mind,  yet  they  are  not  mere  creatures  of  the  mind ;  as  appears  by  an 
instance  produced  of  the  essence  of  the  sun  being  in  one  single  individual ;  in 
which  case  it  is  granted,  That  the  idea  may  be  so  abstracted,  that  more  suns 
might  agree  in  it,  and  it  is  as  much  a  sort,  as  if  there  were  as  many  suns  as  there 
;u-e  stars.  So  that  here  we  have  a  real  essence  subsisting  in  one  individual,  but. 
capable  of  being  multiplied  into  more,  and  the  same  essence  remaining.  Hut  in 
I  his  one  sun  there  is  a  real  essence,  and  not  a  mere  nominal  or  abstracted  essence  : 
but  suppose  there  were  more  suns,  would  not  each  of  them  have  the  real  essence 
of  the  sun  ?  For  what  is  it  makes  the  second  sun,  but  having  the  same  real  essence 
with  the  first?  If  it  were  but  a  nominal  essence,  then  the  second  would  have! 
nothing  but  the  name." 

Tins,  as  I  understand  it,  replies  JVlr.  Locke,  is  to  prove  that  the  abstract  geno- 
ral  essence  of  any  sort  of  things,  or  things  of  the  same  denomination,  v.  g.  of 
man  or  marigold,  hath  a  rc;d  being  out  of  the  understanding  ;  which,  F  confesr 
I  am  not  able  to  conceive.      Your  lordship's   proof  here  brought  out  of  mf 

•  !n  his  first  letter 

Vol    1  4fl 


ij-fcM  QENGRAEi  TERMS.  [BOOR  1H, 

§  12.  ABSTRACT  >l;EAS  ARE  THE  ESSENCES  OF  THE  G  BNERA  AND  SPECIES. 

The  next  thing  therefore  to  be  considered  is,  what  kind  of 
signification  it  is  that  general  words  have.  For  as  it  is  evident 
that  they  do  not  signify  barely  one  particular  thing :  for  then 
they  would  not  be  general  terms,  but  proper  names  ;  so  on  the 
other  side  it  is  as  evident,  they  do  not  signify  a  plurality  ;  for 
man  and  men  would  then  signify  the  same,  and  the  distinction  of 

essay,  concerning  the  sun,  I  humbly  conceive  v.'ill  not  reach  it  ;  because  what  is 
said  there,  docs  not  at  all  concern  the  real  but  nominal  essence,  as  is  evident  from 
hence,  that  the  idea  I  speak  of  there  is  a  complex  idea  ;  but  we  have  no  complex 
idea  of  the  internal  constitution  or  real  essence  of  the  sun.  Besides,  1  sav 
expressly,  That  our  distinguishing  substances  into  species,  by  names,  is  not  at  u!l 
founded  on  their  real  essences,  ti0  that  the  sun  being  one  of  these  substances,  I 
cannot,  in  the  place  quoted  by  your  lordship,  be  supposed  to  mean  by  essence  of 
the  sun  the  real  essence  of  the  sun,  unless  I  had  so  expressed  it.  But  all  this 
argument  will  be  at  an  end,  when  your  lordship  shall  have  explained  what  you 
mean  by  these  words,  "  true  sun.1'  In  my  sense  of  them,  any  thing  will  be 
u  true  sun  to  which  the  name  sun  may  be  truly  and  properly  applied,  and  to  that 
substance  or  thing  the  name  sun  may  be  truly  and  properly  applied,  which  has 
united  iu  it  that  combination  of  sensible  qualities  by  which  any  thing  else,  that 
is  called  sun,  is  distinguished  from  other  substances,  i.  e.  by  the  nominal  essence  : 
and  thus  our  sun  is  denominated  and  distinguished  from  a  fixed  star,  not  by  a  real 
essence  that  we  do  not  know  (for  if  we  did,  it  is  possible  we  should  find  the  real 
essence  or  constitution  of  one  of  the  fixed  stars  to  be  the  same  with  that  of  our 
sun)  but  by  a  complex  idea  of  sensible  qualities  coexisting,  which,  wherever 
fhey  are  found,  make  a  true  sun.  And  thus  [  crave  leave  to  answer  your  lord- 
ship's question — "  For  what  is  it  makes  the  second  sun  to  be  a  true  sun,  but 
having  the  same  real  essence  with  the  first  ?  If  it  were  but  a  nominal  essence, 
then  the  second  would  have  nothing  but  the  name."' 

I  humbly  conceive,  if  it  had  the  nominal  essence,  it  would  have  something 
besides  the  name,  viz.  That  nominal  essence  which  is  sufficient  to  denominate  it 
truly  a  sun,  or  to  make  it  be  a  true  sun,  though  we  know  nothing  of  that  real 
essence  whereon  that  nominal  one  depends.  Your  lordship  will  then  argue,  that 
that  real  essence  is  in  the  second  sun,  and  makes  the  second  sun.  I  grant  it,  when 
the  second  sun  comes  to  exist,  so  as  to  be  perceived  by  us  to  have  all  the  ideas  con- 
tained in  our  complex  idea,  i.  c  in  our  nominal  essence  of  a  sun.  For  should  it 
be  true  (as  is  now  believed  by  astronomers,)  that  the  real  essence  of  the  sun  were 
in  aiiv  of  the  fixed  stars,  yet  such  a  star  could  not  for  that  be  by  us  called  a  sun, 
whil-t  it  answers  not  our  complex  idea,  or  nominal  essence  of  a  sun.  But  how 
far  that  will  prove,  that  the  essences  of  things,  as  they  are  knowable  by  us,  have 
a  reality  in  them  distinct  from  that  of  abstract  ideas  in  the  mind,  which  are 
merely  creatures  of  the  mind,  I  do  not  see  ;  and  we  shall  farther  inquire,  in  con- 
sidering your  lordship's  following  words.  lv  Therefore,"  say  you,  "  there  must  be 
a  real  essence  in  every  individual  of  the  same  kind."  Yes,  and  I  beg  leave  of your 
lordship  to  say,  of  a  different  kind  too.  For  that  alone  is  it  which  makes  it  to  bv 
what  it  is. 

That  every  individual  substance  has  real,  internal,  individual  constitution,  i.  t. 
a  real  essence,  that  makes  it  to  be  what  it  is,  I  readily  grant.  Upon  this  your 
N  lordship  says,  "  Peter,  James,  and  John,  are  all  true  and  real  men."  Answer. 
Without  doubt,  supposing  them  to  be  men,  they  are  true  and  real  men,  i.  <.„ 
supposing  the  name  of  that  species  belongs  to  them.  And  so  three  bobaqucs  are 
all  trite  and  real  bobaques,  supposing  the  name  of  that  specks  of  animals  belongs 
to  them. 

For  I  beseech  your  lordship  to  consider,  whether  in  your  wuy  of  argument,  by 
naming  them  Peter,  James,  and  John,  names  familiar  to  us,  as  appropriated  to 
individuals  of  the  specie-  man,  your  lordship  does  not  first  suppose  them  men,  and 
then  very  safely  ask,  whether  they  be  not  all  true  and  real  men?  But  if  I  shou]  I 
ask  your  lordship  whether  Weweena,  Chuckery,  and  Cousheda,  were  true  and 
real  men  or  no:  your  lordship  would  not  be  able  to  tell  me,  till,  I  having  pointed 
oat  to  j'our  lordship  the  individitals  called  b\t  ;bo--e  names,  your  lordship,  by 


•at.  III.  j  GENERAL  TERMS.  3#7 

numbers  (as  the  grammarians  call  them)  would  be  superfluous 
and  useless.  That  then  which  general  words  signify  is  a  sort 
of  things;  and  each  of  them  does  that  by  being  a  sign  of  an 
abstract  idea  in  the  mind,  to  which  idea,  as  things  existing  are 
found  to  agree,  so  they  come  to  be  ranked  under  that  name  ; 
or,  which  is  all  one,  be  of  that  sort.  Whereby  it  is  evident  that 
the  essences  of  the  sorts,  or  (if  the  Latin  word  pleases  better) 

examining  whether  they  had  in  them  those  sensible  qualities  which  your  lordship 
has  combined  into  that  complex  idea  to  which  you  gire  the  speciiic  name  man. 
determined  them  all,  o*  some  of  them,  to  be  the  species  which  you  call  man,  and. 
so  to  be  true  and  real  men  ;  which  when  your  lordship  has  determined,  it  is  plain 
you  did  it  by  that  which  is  only  the  nominal  essence,  as  not  knowing  the  real 
one.  But  your  lordship  farther  asks,  "  What  is  it  makes  Peter,  James,  and  John 
real  men  ?  Is  it  the  attributing  the  general  name  to  them  ?  No,  certainly  ;  but  thai 
the  true  and  real  essence  of  a  man  is  in  every  one  of  them." 

If,  when  your  lordship  asks,"  What  makes  them  men  ?"  your  lordship  used  the 
word  making  in  the  proper  sense  for  the  elHcient  cause,  and  in  thai  ssnse  it  were 
true,  that  the  essence  of  a  man,  ?'.  e.  the  speciiic  essence  of  that  species  made  a.  man ; 
it  would  undoubtedly  follow,  that  this  specific  essence  had  a  reality  beyond  that 
of  being  only  a  general  abstract  idea  in  the  mind.  But  when  it  is  said,  that  it  is 
the  true  and  real  essence  of  a  man  in  every  one  of  them  that  makes  Peter,  James, 
and  John  true  and  real  men,  the  true  and  real  meaning  of  these  words  is  no  more, 
but  that  the  essence  of  that  species,  i.  e.  the  properties  answering  the  complex 
abstract  idea  to  which  the  specific  name  is  given,  being  found  in  them,  that  makes 
them  be  properly  and  truly  called  men,  or  is  the  reason  why  they  are  called  men. 
Your  lordship  adds,  "  And  we  must  be  as  certain  of  this,  as  we  are  that  they  are 
men  ?' 

How,  I  beseech  your  lordship,  are  we  certain  that  they  are  men,  but  only  by 
our  senses,  finding  those  properties  in  them  which  answer  the  abstract  complex* 
idea,  which  is  in  our  minds,  of  the  specific  idea  to  which  we  have  annexed  the 
specific  name  man?  This  I  take  to  be  the  true  meaning  of  what  your  lordship 
says  in  the  next  words,  viz.  "  They  take  their  denomination  of  being  men  from 
that  common  nature  or  essence  which  is  in  them  ;"  and  I  am  apt  to  think  these 
words  will  not  hold  true  in  any  other  sense. 

Your  lordship's  fourth  inference  begins  thus — "That  the  general  idea  is  not 
made  from  the  simple  ideas  by  the  mere  act  of  the  mind  abstracting  from  circum- 
stances, but  from  reason  and  consideration  of  the  nature  of  things." 

I  thought,  my  lord,  that  reason  and  consideration  had  been  acts  of  the  mind, 
mere  acts  of  the  mind,  when  any  thing  was  done  by  them.  Your  lordship  gives  a 
reason  for  it,  viz.  "  For,  when  we  see  several  individuals  that  have  the  same 
powers  and  properties,  we  thence  infer,  that  there  must  be  something  common 
to  all,  which  makes  them  of  one  kind." 

I  grant  the  inference  to  be  true  ;  but  must  beg  leave  to  deny  that  this  proves, 
♦  hat  the  general  idea  the  name  is  i'nnoxed  to,  is  not  made  by  the  mind.  I  have 
said,  and  it  agrees  with  what  your  lordship  here  says,  "That  "the  mind,  in 
making  its  complex  ideas  of  substances,  only  follows  nature,  and  puts  no  ideas 
together,  which  are  not  supposed  to  have  a  union  in  nature.  Nobody  joins  the 
voice  of  a  sheep  with  the  shape  of  a  horse  ;  nor  the  colour  of  lead  with  the  weight 
and  fixedness  of  gold,  to  be  the  complex  ideas  of  any  real  eubstunces  ;  unless  he 
has  a  mind  to  fill  his  head  with  chimeras,  and  his  discourses  with  unintelligible- 
words.  Men  observing  certain  qualities  always  joined  and  existing  together, 
therein  copied  nature,  and  of  ideas  so  united,  made  their  complex  ones  of  sub- 
stance,"  &e.  Which  is  very  little  different  from  what  your  lordship  here  says, 
that  it  is  from  our  observation  of  individuals,  that  we  come  to  infer,  "  thai  there- 
is  something  common  to  them  all."  But  I  do  not  see  how  it  will  thence  follow,  that 
the  general  or  speciGc  idea  is  not  made  by  the  mere  act  of  the  mind.  "  No,"  says 
your  lordship,  "there  is  something  common  to  them  all,  which  makes  them  of  one 
kind  ;  and  if  the  difference  of  kinds  be  real,  that  which  makes  them  all  of  oni 
kartd  mas!  not  he  b  nominal,  but  real  essence." 

•  n.  in  o.  f  &S8 


S88  -.L.NEUAL  lEKMS.  [BOOK  III. 

species  of  things,  are  nothing  else  but  these  abstract  ideas. 
For  the  having  the  essence  of  any  species  being  that  which  makes 
any  thing  to  be  of  that  species,  and  the  conformity  to  the  idea 
to  which  the  name  is  annexed  being  that  which  gives  a  right  to 
that  name  ;  the  having  the  essence,  and  the  having  that  confor- 
mity, must  needs  be  the  same  thing ;  since  to  be  of  any  species, 
and  to  have  a  right  to  the  name  of  that  species,  is  all  one.     As, 

This  may  be  some  objection  to  the  name  of  nominal  essence ;  but  is,  as  I  humbly 
conceive,  none  to  the  thing  designed  by  it.  There  is  an  internal  constitution  of 
things,  on  which  their  properties  depend.  This  your  lordthip  and  I  are  agreed  of, 
and  this  we  call  the  real  essence.  There  are  also  certain  complex  ideas,  or  com- 
binations of  these  properties  in  men's  minds,  to  which  they  commonly  an- 
nex specific  names,  or  names  of  sorts  or  kinds  of  things.  This,  I  believe, 
Your  lordship  does  not  deny.  These  complex  ideas,  for  want  of  a  better 
name,  I  have  called  nominal  essences  ;  how  properly,  I  will  not  dispute.  But 
if  any  one  will  help  me  to  a  better  name  for  them,  I  am  ready  to  receive  it;  till 
then,  I  must,  to  express  myself,  use  this.  Now,  my  lord,  body,  life,  and  the  power 
of  reasoning,  being  not  the  real  essence  of  a  man,  as  I  believe  your  lordship  will 
agree,  will  your  lordship  say,  that  they  are  not  enough  to  make  the  thing  wherein 
they  are  found,  of  the  kind  called  man,  and  not  of  the  kind  called  baboon,  because 
the  difference  of  these  kinds  is  real  ?  If  this  be  not  real  enough  to  make  the  thing 
of  one  kind  and  not  of  another,  I  do  not  see  how  animal  rationale  can  be  enough 
really  to  distinguish  a  man  from  a  horse ;  for  that  is  but  the  nominal,  not  real 
essence  of  that  kind,  designed  by  the  name  man  ;  and  yet  I  suppose,  every  one 
thinks  it  real  enough  to  make  a  real  difference  between  that  and  other  kinds. 
And  if  nothing  will  serve  the  turn,  to  make  things  of  one  kind  and  not  of  another, 
(which,  as  I  have  showed,  signifies  no  more  but  ranking  of  them  under  different 
specific  names)  but  their  real  unknown  constitutions,  which  are  the  real  essences 
we  are  speaking  of,  I  fear  it  would  be  a  long  while  before  we  should  have  really 
different  kind  of  substances,  or  distinct  names  for  them,  unless  we  could  distinguish 
them  by  these  differences,  of  which  we  have  no  distinct  conceptions.  For  1  think 
it  would  not  be  readily  answered  me,  if  I  should  demand,  wherein  lies  the  real 
difference  in  the  internal  constitution  of  a  stag  from  that  of  a  buck,  which 
are  each  of  them  very  well  known  to  be  of  one  kind,  and  not  of  the  other ; 
and  nobody  questions  but  that  the  kinds,  whereof  eaoh  of  them  is,  are  really 
different. 

Your  lordship  farther  says,  "  And  this  difference  doth  not  depend  upon  the 
complex  ideas  of  substances,  whereby  men  arbitrarily  join  modes  together  in  theii 
minds."  I  confess,  my  lord,  I  know  not  what  to  say  to  this,  because  I  do  not  know 
what  these  complex  ideas  of  substances  are,  whereby  men  arbitrarily  join  modes 
together  in  their  minds.  But  I  am  apt  to  think  there  is  a  mistake  in  the  matter, 
by  the  words  that  follow,  which  are  these  :  "  For  let  them  mistake  in  their  com- 
plication of  ideas,  either  in  leaving  out  or  putting  in  what  doth  not  belong  to 
them ;  and  let  their  ideas  be  what  they  please,  the  real  essence  of  a  man,  and  a 
horse,  and  a  tree,  are  just  what  they  were. 

The  mistake  I  spoke  of,  I  humbly  suppose,  is  this,  that  things  are  here  taken  to 
be  distinguished  by  their  real  essences ;  when,  by  the  very  way  of  speaking  of 
them,  it  is  clear,  that  they  are  already  distinguished  by  their  nominal  essences,  and 
are  so  taken  to  be.  For  what,  I  beseech  your  lordship,  does  your  lordship  mean, 
■when  you  say,  "  The  real  essence  of  a  man,  and  ahorse,  and  a  tree,"  but  that  there 
are  such  kinds  already  set  out  by  the  signification  of  these  names,  man,  horse,  tree  ? 
And  what,  I  beseech  your  lordship,  is  the  signification  of  each  of  these  specific 
names,  but  the  complex  idea  it  stands  for  ?  And  that  complex  idea  is  the  nominal 
essence,  and  nothing  else.  So  that  taking  man,  as  your  lordship  does  here,  to 
«tand  for  a  kind  or  sort  of  individuals,  all  which  agree  in  that  common  complex 
idea,  which  that  specific  name  stands  for,  it  is  certain  that  the  real  essence  of  all 
the  individuals  comprehended  under  the  specific  name  man,  in  your  use  of  it, 
would  be  just  the  same  ;  let  others  leave  out  or  put  into  their  complex  idea  of 
man  what  they  please ;  because  the  real  essence  on  which  that  unaltered  complex 
idea,  i,  c.  those  properties  depend,  must  necessarily  be  concluded  to  be  the  same. 


-;H.  III. J  GENERAL  TERMS.  389 

for  example,  to  be  a  man,  or  of  the  species  man,  and  to  have  a 
right  to  the  name  man,  is  the  same  thing.  Again,  to  be  a  man, 
or  of  the  species  man,  and  have  the  essence  of  a  man,  is  the  same 
thing.     Now  since  nothing  can  be  a  man,  or  have  a  right  to  the 

For  I  take  it  for  granted,  that  in  using  the  name  man,  in  this  place,  your  lord- 
ship uses  it  for  that  complex  idea  which  is  in  your  lordship's  mind  of  that  species. 
So  that  your  lordship,  by  putting  it  for,  or  substituting  it  in,  the  place  of  that  com- 
plex idea  where  you  say  the  real  essence  of  it  is  just  as  it  was,  or  the  very  same  as 
it  was,  does  suppose  the  idea  it  stands  for  to  be  steadily  the  same.  For,  if  I  change 
the  signification  of  the  word  man,  whereby  it  may  not  comprehend  just  the 
same  individuals  which  in  your  lordship's  sense  it  does,  but  shut  out  some  of 
those  that  to  your  lordship  are  men  in  your  signification  of  the  word  man,  or  take 
in  others  to  which  your  lordship  does  not  allow  the  name  man  ;  1  do  not  think  you 
will  say,  that  the  real  essence  of  man  in  both  these  senses  is  the  same.  And  yet 
your  lordship  seems  to  say  so,  when  you  say,  "  Let  men  mistake  in  the  complica- 
tion of  their  ideas,  either  in  leaving  out  or  putting  in  what  doth  not  belong  to 
them ;"  and  let  their  ideas  be  what  they  please,  the  real  essence  of  the  individuals 
comprehended  under  the  names  annexed  to  these  ideas,  will  be  the  same  :  for  so, 
I  humbly  conceive,  it  must  be  put,  to  make  out  what  your  lordship  aims  at.  For, 
as  your  lordship  puts  it  by  the  name  of  man,  or  any  other  specific  name,  your 
lordship  seems  to  me  to  suppose,  that  that  name  stands  for  and  not  for  the  same 
idea,  at  the  same  tune. 

For  example,  my  lord,  let  your  lordship's  idea,  to  which  you  annex  the  sign 
man,  be  a  rational  animal :  let  another  man's  idea  be  a  rational  animal  of  such  a 
shape  ;  let  a  third  man's  idea  be  of  an  animal  of  such  a  size  and  shape,  leaving  out 
rationality  ;  let  a  fourth's  be  an  animal  with  a  body  of  such  a  shape,  and  an  im- 
material substance,  with  a  power  of  reasoning ;  let  a  fifth  leave  out  of  his  idea 
an  immaterial  substance.  It  is  plain  every  one  of  these  will  call  his  a  man,  as 
well  as  your  lordship ;  and  yet  it  is  as  plain  that  men,  as  standing  for  all  these 
distinct,  complex  ideas,  cannot  be  supposed  to  have  the  same  internal  constitu- 
tion, i.  c.  the  same  real  essence.  The  truth  is,  every  distinct  abstract  idea  with 
the  name  to  it,  makes  a  real  distinct  kind,  whatever  the  real  essence  (which  we 
know  not  of  any  of  them)  be. 

And  therefore  I  grant  it  true  what  your  lordship  says  in  the  next  words,  "And 
let  the  nominal  essences  differ  never  so  much,  the  real  common  essences  or  nature 
of  the  several  kinds  are  not  at  all  altered  by  them,"  i.  e.  That  our  thoughts  or 
ideas  cannot  alter  the  real  constitutions  that  are  in  things  that  exist,  there  is 
nothing  more  certain.  But  yet  it  is  true,  that  the  change  of  ideas,  to  which  we 
annex  them,  can  and  docs  alter  the  signification  of  their  names,  and  thereby  alter 
the  kinds,  which  by  these  names  we  rank  and  sort  them  into.  Your  lordship  far- 
ther  adds, "  And  these  real  essences  are  unchangeable,"  i.  e.  the  internal  constitu- 
tions arc  unchangeable.  Of  what,  I  beseech  your  lordship,  are  the  internal  con- 
stitutions unchangeable  ?  Not  of  any  thing  that  exists,  but  of  God  alone  ;  for  they 
may  be  changed  all  as  easily  by  that  hand  that  made  them,  as  the  internal  frame1 
of  a  watch.  What  then  is  it  that  is  unchangeable  ?  The  internal  constitution,  or 
real  essence  of  a  species ;  which,  m  plain  English,  is  no  more  but  this,  whilst  the 
same  specific  name,  v.  g.  of  man,  horse,  or  tree,  is  annexed  to,  or  made  the  sign  of 
the  same  abstract  complex  idea,  under  which  I  rank  several  individuals;  it  is 
impossible  but  the  real  constitution  on  which  that  unaltered,  complex  idea,  or 
nominal  essence  depends,  must  be  the  same.  i.  e.  in  other  words,  where  we  find 
all  the  same  properties,  we  have  reason  to  conclude  there  is  the  same  real,  inter- 
nal constitution  from  which  those  properties  flow. 

But  your  lordship  proves  the  real  essences  to  be  unchangeable,  because  God 
makes  them,  in  these  following  words  :  "  For,  however  there  may  happen  some 
variety  in  individuals  by  particular  accidents,  yet  the  essences  of  men,  and  horses, 
;md  trees,  remain  always  the  same  :  because  they  do  not  depend  on  the 
ideas  of  men,  but  on  the  will  of  the  Creator,  who  hath  made  several  sorts  of 
beings." 

It  is  true,  the  real  constitutions  or  essences  of  particular  tilings  existing  do  not 
depend  on  the  ideas  of  men, but  on  the  will  of  the  Creator  :  but  their  being  ranked 
into  sorts,  under  such  and  such  names,  does  depend,  and  wholly  depend,  on  thf 
■dr;is  of  men. 


300  QENERAL  TERMS.  [BOOK  IIJ.. 

name  man,  but  what  has  a  conformity  to  the  abstract  idea  the 
name  man  stands  for  ;  nor  any  thing  be  a  man,  or  have  a  right  to 
the  species  man,  but  what  has  the  essence  of  that  species  :  it 
follows  that  the  abstract  idea  for  which  the  name  stands,  and  the 
essence  of  the  species  is  one  and  the  same.  From  whence  it  is 
easy  to  observe,  that  the  essences  of  the  sorts  of  things,  and 
consequently  the  sorting  of  this,  is  the  workmanship  of  the 
understanding,  that  abstracts  and  makes  those  general  ideas. 

§   13.   THEY     ARE  THE  WORKMANSHIP   OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING,  BUT 
HAVE  THEIR    FOUNDATION    IN   THE  SIMILITUDE  OF  THINGS. 

I  would  not  here  be  thought  to  forget,  much  less  to  deny,  that 
nature  in  the  production  of  things  makes  several  of  them  alike  ; 
there  is  nothing  more  obvious,  especially  in  the  races  of  animals 
and  all  things  propagated  by  seed.     But  yet,  I  think,  we  may  say 
the  sorting  of  them  under  names  is  the   workmanship  of  the 
understanding,  taking  occasion  from  the   similitude  it  observes 
among  them  to  make  abstract  general  ideas,  and  set  them  up  in 
the  mind,  with  names  annexed  to  them  as  patterns  or  forms  (for 
in  that  sense  the  word  form  has  a  very  proper  signification,)  to 
which  as  particular  things  existing  are  found  to  agree,  so  they 
come  to  be  of  that  species,  have  that  denomination,  or  are  put 
into  that  classis.     For  when  we  say,  this  is  a  man,  that  a  horse ; 
this  justice,  that  cruelty ;  this  a  watch,  that  a  jack  ;  what  do  we 
else  but  rank  things  under  different  specific  names,  as  agreeing  to 
those  abstract  ideas,  of  which  we  have  made  those  names  the  signs? 
And  what  are  the  essences  of  those  species  set  out  and  marked 
by  names  but  those  abstract  ideas  in  the  mind  ;  which  are,  as  it 
were,  the  bonds  between  particular  things  that  exist  and  the  names 
they  are  to  be  ranked  under  ?     And  when  general  names  have 
any  connexion  with  particular  beings,  these  abstract  ideas  are 
the  medium  that  unites  them  ;  so  that  the  essences  of  species,  as 
distinguished  and  denominated  by  us,  neither  are,  nor  can  be  any 
thing,  but  those  precise   abstract  ideas  we  have  in  our  minds. 
And  therefore  the  supposed  real  essences  of  substances,  if  dif- 
ferent from  our  abstract  ideas,  cannot  be  the  essences  of  the 
species  we  rank  things  into.     For  two  species  may  be  one  as 
rationally,  as  two  different  essences  be  the  essence  of  one  species: 
and  I  demand  what  are  the  alterations  may  or  may  not  be  in  a 
horse  or  lead,  without  making  either  of  them  to  be  of  another 
species  ?     In  determining  the  species  of  things  by  our  abstract 
ideas,  this  is  easy  to  resolve  :  but  if  any  one  will  regulate  him- 
self herein  by  supposed  real  essences,  he  will,  I  suppose,  be  at  a 
loss ;  and  he  will  never  be  able  to  know  when  any  thing  precisely 
ceases  to  be  of  a  species  of  a  horse  or  lead. 


til.  IU.]  GENERAL  TEhM>  Ml 

§    14.   EACH  DISTINCT  ABSTRACT  IDEA  IS  A  DISTINCT  ESSENCE. 

Nor  will  any  one  wonder  that  I  say  these  essences,  or  abstract 
ideas  (which  are  the  measures  of  name,  and  the  boundaries  of 
species,)  are  the  workmanship  of  the  understanding,  who  consi- 
ders, that  at  least  the  complex  ones  are  often,  in  several  men, 
dilferent  collections  of  simple  ideas  ;  and  therefore  that  is  covet- 
ousness  to  one  man,  which  is  not  so  to  another.  Nay,  even  in 
substances,  where  their  abstract  ideas  seem  to  be  taken  from  the 
things  themselves,  they  are  not  constantly  the  same  ;  no,  not  in 
that  species  which  is  most  familiar  to  us,  and  with  which  we  have 
the  most  intimate  acquaintance  ;  it  having  been  more  than  once 
doubted,  whether  the  foetus  born  of  a  woman  were  a  man  ;  even 
so  far,  as  that  it  hath  been  debated,  whether  it  were  or  were  not 
to  be  nourished  and  baptized ;  which  could  not  be,  if  the  abstract 
idea  or  essence,  to  which  the  name  man  belonged,  were  of  nature's 
making,  and  were  not  the  uncertain  and  various  collection  of 
simple  ideas,  which  the  understanding  put  together,  and  then 
abstracting  it,  affixed  a  name  to  it.  So  that  in  truth  every  distinct 
abstract  idea  is  a  distinct  essence  :  and  the  names  that  stand  for 
such  distinct  ideas  are  the  names  of  things  essentially  different. 
Thus  a  circle  is  as  essentially  different  from  an  oval  as  a  sheep 
from  a  goat ;  and  rain  is  as  essentially  dilferent  from  snow  as 
water  from  earth ;  that  abstract  idea  which  is  the  essence  of  one 
being  impossible  to  be  communicated  to  the  other.  And  thus 
any  two  abstract  ideas,  that  in  any  part  vary  one  from  another, 
with  two  distinct  names  annexed  to  them,  constitute  two  distinct 
sorts,  or,  if  you  please,  species,  as  essentially  different,  as  any 
two  of  the  most  remote  or  opposite  in  the  world. 

§    15.    REAL  AND  NOMINAL  ESSENCE. 

But  since  the  essences  of  things  are  thought  by  some  (and  not 
without  reason)  to  be  wholly  unknown,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to 
consider  the  several  significations  of  the  word  essence. 

First,  essence  may  betaken  for  the  being  of  anything,  whereby 
it  is  what  it  is.  And  thus  the  real  internal,  but  generally,  in 
substances,  unknown  constitution  of  things,  whereon  their  disco- 
verable qualities  depend,  may  be  called  their  essence.  This  is 
the  proper  original  signification  of  the  word,  as  is  evident  from 
the  formation  of  it  ;  essentia,  in  its  primary  notation,  signifying 
properly  being.  And  in  this  sense  it  is  still  used,  when  we 
speak  of  the  essence  of  particular  things,  without  giving  them 
any  name. 

Secondly,  thelearning  and  disputes  of  the  schools  having  been 
much  busied  about  genus  and  species,  the  word  essence  has 
almost  lost  its  primary  signification  ;  and  instead  of  the  real  con- 
stitution of  things,  has  been  almost  wholly  applied  to  the  artifi- 
cial constitution  of  genus  and  species.  It  is  true,  there  is  ordi- 
nal ily  supposed  a  real  constitution  of  the  sorts  of  things  ;  and  it. 
fa  past  doubt,  there  must  be  some  real  constitution  on  which  any 


392  GENERAL  TERMS  [BOOK  III 

collection  of  simple  ideas  coexisting  must  depend.  But  it  being 
evident  that  things  are  ranked  under  names  into  sorts  or  species, 
only  as  they  agree  to  certain  abstract  ideas  to  which  we  have 
annexed  those  names,  the  essence  of  each  genus  or  sort  comes 
to  be  nothing  but  that  abstract  idea  which  the  general  or  sortal 
(if  I  may  have  leave  so  to  call  it  from  sort,  as  I  do  general  from 
genus)  name  stands  for.  And  this  we  shall  find  to  be  that  which 
the  word  essence  imports  in  its  most  familiar  use.  These  two 
sorts  of  essences,  I  suppose,  may  not  unfitly  be  termed,  the  one 
the  real,  the  other  the  nominal  essence. 

6   16.    CONSTANT    CONNEXION    BETWEEN    THE    NAME    AND    NOMINAL 

ESSENCE. 

Between  the  nominal  essence  and  the  name  there  is  so  near  a 
connexion,  that  the  name  of  any  sort  of  things  cannot  be  attri- 
buted to  any  particular  being  but  what  has  this  essence,  whereby 
it  answers  that  abstract  idea,  whereof  that  name  is  the  sign. 

§    17.    SUPPOSITION,  THAT  SPECIES  ARE  DISTINGUISHED  BY  THEIR  REAL 

ESSENCES,  USELESS. 

Concerning  the  real  essences  of  corporeal  substances  (to  men- 
tion these  only,)  there  are,  if  I  mistake  not,  two  opinions.  The 
one  is  of  those,  who  using  the  word  essence  for  they  know  not 
what,  suppose  a  certain  number  of  those  essences,  according  to 
which  all  natural  things  are  made,  and  wherein  they  do  exactly 
every  one  of  them  partake,  and  so  become  of  this  or  that  species. 
The  other  and  more  rational  opinion  is,  of  those  who  look  on  all 
natural  things  to  have  a  real,  but  unknown  constitution  of  their 
insensible  parts  :  from  which  flow  those  sensible  qualities  which 
serve  us  to  distinguish  them  one  from  another,  according  as  we 
have  occasion  to  rank  them  into  sorts  under  common  denomina- 
tions. The  former  of  these  opinions,  which  supposes  these 
essences  as  a  certain  number  of  forms  or  moulds,  wherein  all 
natural  things  that  exist  are  cast  and  do  equally  partake,  has,  I 
imagine,  very  much  perplexed  the  knowledge  of  natural  things. 
The  frequent  productions  of  monsters,  in  all  the  species  of  ani- 
mals, and  of  changelings  and  other  strange  issues  of  human  birth, 
carry  with  them  difficulties  not  possible  to  consist  with  this 
hypothesis :  since  it  is  as  impossible  that  two  things,  partaking 
exactly  of  the  same  real  essence,  should  have  different  properties, 
as  that  two  figures  partaking  of  the  same  real  essence  of  a  circle, 
should  have  different  properties.  But  were  there  no  other  rea- 
son against  it,  yet  the  supposition  of  essences  that  cannot  be 
known,  and  the  making  of  them  nevertheless  to  be  that  which 
distinguishes  the  species  of  things,  is  so  wholly  useless  and  unser- 
viceable to  any  part  of  our  knowledge,  that  that  alone  were 
sufficient  to  make  us  lay  it  by,  and  content  ourselves  with 
such  essences  of  the  sorts  or  species  of  things  as  come  within 
the  reach  of  our  knowledge :  which,  when  seriously  considered. 


CH.   HI.  j  GENERAL  TERM&  ;J9£ 

Avill  be  found,  as  I  have  said,  to  be  nothing  else  but  those 
abstract  complex  ideas  to  which  we  have  annexed  distinct  ge- 
neral names. 

§    18.    REAL  AND  NOMINAL  ESSENCE  THE  SAME  IN  SIMPLE  IDEAS  AND 
MODES,   DIFFERENT   IN   SUBSTANCES. 

Essences  being  thus  distinguished  into  nominal  and  real,  we 
may  farther  observe,  that  in  the  species  of  simple  ideas  and 
modes,  they  are  always  the  same,  but  in  substances,  always  quite 
different.  Thus  a  figure,  including  a  space  between  three  lines, 
is  the  real  as  well  as  nominal  essence  of  a  triangle  ,  it  being  not 
only  the  abstract  idea  to  which  the  general  name  is  annexed,  but. 
the  very  essentia  or  being  of  the  thing  itself,  that  foundation  from 
which  all  its  properties  flow,  and  to  which  they  are  all  insepara- 
bly annexed.  But  it  is  far  otherwise  concerning  that  parcel  of 
matter  which  makes  the  ring  on  my  finger,  wherein  these  two 
essences  are  apparently  different.  For  it  is  the  real  constitution 
of  its  insensible  parts  on  which  depend  all  those  properties  of 
colour,  weight,  fusibility,  fixedness,  &c.  which  are  to  be  found  in 
it,  which  constitution  we  know  not,  and  so  having  no  particular 
idea  of,  have  no  name  that  is  the  sign  of  it.  But  yet  it  is  its 
colour,  weight,  fusibility,  fixedness,  &c.  which  makes  it  to  bo 
gold,  or  gives  it  a  right  to  that  name,  which  is  therefore  its  nomi- 
nal essence  ;  since  nothing  can  be  called  gold  but  what  has  a 
conformity  of  qualities  to  that  abstract  complex  idea,  to  which 
that  name  is  annexed.  But  this  distinction  of  essences  belonging 
particularly  to  substances,  we  shall,  when  we  come  to  consider 
their  names,  have  an  occasion  to  treat  of  more  fully. 

§   1(J.  ESSENCES  INGENERABLE  AND  INCORRUPTIBLE. 

That  such  abstract  ideas,  with  names  to  them,  as  we  have  been 
speaking  of,  are  essences,  may  farther  appear  by  what  we  are 
told  concerning  essences,  viz.  that  they  are  all  ingenerable  and 
incorruptible  :  which  cannot  be  true  of  the  real  constitutions  of 
things  which  begin  and  perish  with  them.  All  things  that  exist, 
besides  their  author,  are  all  liable  to  change ;  especially  those 
things  we  are  acquainted  with,  and  have  ranked  into  bands  under 
distinct  names  or  ensigns.  Thus  that  which  was  grass  to-day  is 
to-morrow  the  flesh  of  a  sheep,  and  within  a  few  days  after 
becomes  part  of  a  man  :  in  all  which,  and  the  like  changes,  it  is 
evident  their  real  essence,  i.  c.  that  constitution,  whereon  the 
properties  of  these  several  things  depended,  is  destroyed,  and 
perishes  with  them.  But  essences  being  taken  for  ideas,  esta- 
blished IB  the  mind,  with  names  annexed  to  them,  they  are  suppo- 
sed to  remain  steadily  the  same,  whatever  mutations  the  particu- 
lar substances  are  liable  to.  For  whatever  becomes  of  Alexander 
and  Bucephalus,  the  ideas  to  which  man  and  horse  arc  annexed 
are  supposed  nevertheless  to  remain  the  same ;  and  so  the  essences 
of  those  species  are  preserved  whole  and  undestroved,  whatever 

Vol.  I  50 


394  NAMES  OF  slMFLt  IDEAS.  LBOoK  ni 

changes  happen  to  any  or  all  of  the  individuals  of  those  species. 
By  this  means,  the  essence  of  a  species  rests  safe  and  entire,  with- 
out the  existence  of  so  much  as  one  individual  of  that  kind.  For 
were  there  now  no  circle  existing  any  where  in  the  world,  (as 
perhaps  that  figure  exists  not  any  where  exactly  marked  out,)  yet 
the  idea  annexed  to  that  name  would  not  cease  to  be  what  it  is  ; 
nor  cease  to  be  as  a  pattern  to  determine  which  of  the  particular 
figures  we  meet  with  have  or  have  not  a  right  to  the  name  circle, 
and  so  to  show  which  of  them,  by  having  that  essence,  was  of 
that  species.  And  though  there  neither  were  nor  had  been  in 
nature  such  a  beast  as  an  unicorn,  or  such  a  fish  as  a  mermaid  ; 
yet  supposing  those  names  to  stand  for  complex  abstract  ideas 
that  contained  no  inconsistency  in  them,  the  essence  of  a  mer- 
maid is  as  intelligible  as  that  of  a  man  ;  and  the  idea  of  an  uni- 
corn as  certain,  steady,  and  permanent  as  that  of  a  horse.  From 
what  has  been  said,  it  is  evident,  that  the  doctrine  of  the  immu- 
tability of  essences  proves  them  to  be  only  abstract  ideas  ;  and  is 
founded*  on  the  relation  established  between  them  and  certain 
sounds  as  signs  of  them  ;  and  will  always  be  true  as  long  as  the 
same  name  can  have  the  same  signification. 

(■>  20.    RECAPITULATION". 

To  conclude,  this  is  that  which  in  short  I  would  say,  viz.  that 
all  the  great  business  of  genera  and  species,  and  their  essences, 
amounts  to  no  more  but  this,  That  men  making  abstract  ideas, 
and  settling  them  in  their  minds  with  names  annexed  to  them, 
do  thereby  enable  themselves  to  consider  things,  and  discourse 
«f  them,  as  it  were,  in  bundles,  for  the  easier  and  readier  im- 
provement and  communication  of  their  knowledge;  which  would 
advance  but  slowly  were  their  words  and  thoughts  confined  only 
fo  particulars. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OF  THE  NAMES  OF  SIMILE  IDLA.-. 

|   i.    JVAMES  OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS,  MODES,  AND  SUBSTANCES,  HAVE  LAUI 
SOMETHING  PECULIAR. 

Though  all  words,  as  I  have  shown,  signify  nothing  imme- 
diately, but  the  ideas  in  the  mind  of  the  speaker  ;  yet  upon  a 
nearer  survey  we  shall  find  that  the  names  of  simple  ideas,  mixed 
moVles  (under  which  I  comprised  relations  too,)  and  natural 
substances,  have  each  of  them  something  peculiar  and  different 
from  the  other.     For  example  : 


i  H.  iV.'j  NAMES  OI    SIMI'LE  IDEAS.  -iSb 

§  2.     1.   NAMES  OK  SIMPLE   IDEAS  AND  SUBSTANCES  INTIMATE  RE  AT. 
EXISTENCE. 

First,  The  names  of  simple  ideas  and  substances,  with  the 
■abstract  ideas  in  the  mind  which  they  immediately  signify,  inti- 
mate also  some  real  existence,  from  which  was  derived  their 
original  pattern.  But  the  names  of  mixed  modes  terminate  in  the 
idea  that  is  in  the  mind,  and  lead  not  the  thoughts  any  farther, 
as  we  shall  see  more  at  large  in  the  following  chapter. 

§3.     2.   NAMES  OK  SIMPLE   IDEAS  AND  MODES  SIGNIFY  ALWAYS  BOTE! 

HEAL   AM)  NOMINAL  ESSENCE. 

Secondly,  The  names  of  simple  ideas  and  modes  signify 
always  the  real  as  well  as  nominal  essence  of  their  species.  But. 
the  names  of  natural  substances  signify  rarely,  if  ever,  any  thing 
but  barely  the  nominal  essences  of  those  species;  as  we  shall  show 
in  the  chapter  that  treats  of  the  names  of  substances  in  particular. 

-      §  4.     3.   NAMES  OK  SIMPLE   IDEAS   UNDEEINABLE. 

Thirdly,  The  names  of  simple  ideas  are  not  capable  of  am 
vlelinition  ;  the  names  of  all  complex  ideas  are.  It  has  not,  that 
I  know,  been  yet  observed  by  any  body  what  words  are,  and 
what  are  not  capable  of  being  defined  ;  the  want  whereof  is  (as 
I  am  apt  to  think)  not  seldom  the  occasion  of  great  wrangling 
and  obscurityin  men's  discourses,  while  some  demand  definitions 
of  terms  that  cannot  be  defined  ;  and  others  think  they  ought 
not  to  rest  satisfied  in  an  explication  made  by  a  more  general 
word,  and  its  restriction  (or,  to  speak  in  terms  of  art,  by  a  genus 
and  difference,)  when  even  after  such  definition  made  according 
to  rule,  those  who  hear  it  have  often  no  more  a  clear  conception 
of  the  meaning  of  the  word  than  they  had  before.  This  at  least 
I  think,  that  the  showing  what  words  are,  and  what  are  not  capa- 
ble of  definitions,  and  wherein  consists  a  good  definition,  is  not 
wholly  besides  our  present  purpose ;  and  perhaps  will  afford  so 
much  light  to  the  nature  of  these  signs,  and  our  ideas,  as  tc*. 
deserve  a  more  particular  consideration. 

§  5.    IK  ALL  WERE  DEFINABLE,   IT   WOULD  EE  A  PROCESS  IM  wfitlitnri! . 

1  will  not  here  trouble  myself  to  prove  that  all  terms  are  not 
definable  from  that  progress  in  infinitum,  which  it  will  visibly 
lead  us  into,  if  we  should  allow  that  all  names  could  be  defined 
For  if  the  terms  of  one  definition  were  still  to  be  defined  b) 
another,  where  at  last  should  we  stop  ?  But  I  shall,  from  the 
nature  of  our  ideas,  and  the  signification  of  our  words,  show  win 
some  names  can,  and  others  cannot,  be  defined,  and  which  the* 
arc. 

§  0.    WHAT  A  DEFINITION  JS. 

1  think  it  is  agreed  that  a  definition  is  nothing  else  but  th* 
fih  owing  the  meaning  of  rmo  word  by  several  others  not  synenyV. 


.596  NAMES  OP  SIMPLE  IDEA*.  [BOOK  II*. 

mous  terms.  The  meaning  of  words  being  only  the  ideas  they 
are  made  to  stand  for  by  him  that  uses  them,  the  meaning  of  any 
term  is  then  shown,  or  the  word  is  defined,  when  by  other  words 
the  idea  it  is  made  the  sign  of,  and  annexed  to,  in  the  mind  of  the 
speaker,  is  as  it  were  represented  or  set  before  the  view  of  ano- 
ther, and  thus  its  signification  ascertained;  this  is  the  only  use 
and  end  of  definitions  ;  and  therefore  the  only  measure  of  what 
is  or  is  not  a  good  definition. 

§  7.    SIMPLE  IDEAS  WHY  UNDEFINABLE. 

This  being  premised,  I  say  that  the  names  of  simple  ideas,  and 
those  only,  are  incapable  of  being  defined.  The  reason  whereof 
is  this  ;  that  the  several  terms  of  a  definition,  signifying  several 
ideas,  they  can  altogether  by  no  means  represent  an  idea,  which 
has  no  composition  at  all :  and  therefore  a  definition,  which  is 
properly  nothing  but  the  showing  the  meaning  of  one  word  by 
several  others  not  signifying  each  the  same  thing,  can  in  the  names 
of  simple  ideas  have  no  place. 

§  8.  INSTANCES  ;    MOTION. 

The  not  observing  this  difference  in  our  ideas,  and  their  names, 
has  produced  that  eminent  trifiing  in  the  schools,  which  is  so  easy 
to  be  observed  in  the  definitions  they  give  us  of  some  few  of 
these  simple  ideas.  For  as  to  the  greatest  part  of  them,  even 
those  masters  of  definitions  were  fain  to  leave  them  untouched, 
merely  by  the  impossibility  they  found  in  it.  What  more  exqui- 
site jargon  could  the  wit  of  man  invent  than  this  definition,  "The 
act  of  a  being  in  power  as  far  forth  as  in  power  ?"  which  would 
puzzle  any  rational  man,  to  whom  it  was  not  already  known  by 
its  famous  absurdity,  to  guess  what  word  it  could  ever  be  supposed 
to  be  the  explication  of.  If  Tully,  asking  a  Dutchman  what 
"  beweeginge"  was,  should  have  received  this  explication  in  his 
own  language,  that  it  was  "  actus  entis  in  potentia  quatenus  in 
potentta;"  I  ask  whether  any  one  can  imagine  he  could  thereby 
have  understood  what  the  word  "  beweeginge"  signified,  or  have 
guessed  what  idea  a  Dutchman  ordinarily  had  in  his  mind,  and 
would  signify  to  another,  when  he  used  that  sound. 

§9. 
Nor  have  the  modern  philosophers,  who  have  endeavoured  to 
throw  off  the  jargon  of  the  schools,  and  speak  intelligibly,  much 
better  succeeded  in  defining  simple  ideas,  whether  by  explaining 
their  causes,  or  any  otherwise.  The  atomists,  who  define  motion 
to  be  a  passage  from  one  place  to  another,  what  do  they  more 
than  put  one  synonymous  word  for  another  ?  For  what  is  pas- 
sage other  than  motion  ?  And  if  they  were  asked  what  passage 
was,  how  could  they  better  define  it  than  by  motion?  For  is 
it  not  at  least  as  proper  and  significant  to  say,  passage  is  a 
motion  from  one  place  to  another,  as  to  say,  motion  is  a  passage. 


.  II.  IV. j  lUS  OP  SIMPLE  fBEAs.  39* 

&c.  ?  This  is  to  translate,  and  not  to  define,  when  we  change 
two  words  of  the  same  signification  one  for  another ;  which, 
when  one  is  better  understood  than  the  other,  may  serve  to  dis- 
cover what  idea  the  unknown  stands  for  ;  but  is  very  far  from  a 
definition,  unless  we  will  say  every  English  word  in  the  diction- 
ary is  the  definition  of  the  Latin  word  it  answers,  and  that  mo- 
tion is  a  definition  of  molus.  Nor  will  the  successive  applica- 
tion of  the  parts  of  the  superficies  of  one  body  to  those  of 
another,  which  the  Cartesians  give  us,  prove  a  much  better  de- 
finition of  motion,  when  well  examined. 

§    10.   LIGHT. 

"  The  act  of  perspicuous,  as  far  forth   as  perspicuous,"  is 
another  peripatetic  definition  of  a  simple  idea ;  which  though  not 
more  absurd  than  the  former  of  motion,  yet  betrays  its  useless- 
ness  and  insignificancy  more  plainly,  because  experience  will 
easily  convince  any  one,  that  it  cannot  make  the  meaning  of  the 
word  light  (which  it  pretends  to  define)  at  all  understood  by  a 
blind  man ;  but  the  definition  of  motion  appears  not  at  first  sight 
so  useless,  because  it  escapes  this  way  of  trial.     For  this  simple 
idea,  entering  by  the  touch  as  well  as  sight,  it  is  impossible  to 
show  an  example  of  any  one,  who  has  no  other  way  to  get  the 
idea  of  motion  but  barely  by  the  definition  of  that  name.  Those 
who  tell  us  that  light  is  a  great  number  of  little  globules,  striking 
briskly  on  the  bottom  of  the  eye,  speak  more  intelligibly  than 
the  schools  ;  but  yet  these   words,  ever  so  well  understood, 
would  make  the  idea  the  word  light  stands  for  no  more  known  to 
a  man  that  understands  it  not  before,  than  if  one  should  tell 
him  that  light   was  nothing  but  a  company  of  little  tennis-balls 
which  fairies  all  day  long  struck  with  rackets  against  some  men's 
foreheads,  whilst  they  passed  by  others.     For  granting  this  ex- 
plication of  the  thing  to  be   true,  yet  the  idea  of  the  cause  of 
light,  if  we  had  it  ever  so  exact,   would  no  more  give  us  the 
idea  of  light  itself,  as  it  is  such  a  particular  perception  in  us, 
than  the  idea  of  the  figure  and  motion  of  a  sharp  piece  of  steel 
would  give  us  the  idea  of  that  pain  which  it  is  able  to  cause  in 
us.     For  the  cause  of  any  sensation,  and  the  sensation  itself,  in 
all  the  simple  ideas  of  one  sense,  are  two  ideas  ;  and  two  ideas 
so  different  and  distant  one   from  another,  that  no  two  can  be 
more  so.     And  therefore   should  Dcs  Cartes's  globules  strike 
ever  so  long  on  the  retina  of  a  man,  who  was  blind  by  a  gutta 
serena,  he  would   thereby  never  have  any  idea  of  light,  or  any 
thing  approaching  it,  though  he  understood  what  little  globules 
were,  and  what  striking  on  another  body  was,  ever  so  well.     And 
therefore  the  Cartesians  very  well  distinguish  between  that  light 
which  is  the  cause  of  that  sensation  in  us,  and  the  idea  which  is 
produced  in  us  by  it.  and  is  that  which  is  properly  litfht 


Zdb       -  NAMES  OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS.  [BOOR    III, 

§11.  SIMPLE  IDEAS  WHY   UNDEF1NABEE,  FARTHER  EXPLAINED. 

Simple  ideas,  as  has  been  shown,  are  only  to  be  got  by  those 
impressions  objects  themselves  make  on  our  minds,  by  the  proper 
inlets  appointed  to  each  sort.  If  they  are  not  received  this  way, 
all  the  words  in  the  world,  made  use  of  to  explain  or  define  any 
of  their  names,  will  never  be  able  to  produce  in  us  the  idea  it 
stands  for.  For  words  being  sounds,  can  produce  in  us  no  other 
simple  ideas  than  of  those  very  sounds,  nor  excite  any  in  us  but 
by  that  voluntary  connexion  which  is  known  to  be  between  them 
and  those  simple  ideas,  which  common  use  has  made  them  signs 
of.  He  that  thinks  otherwise,  let  him  try  if  any  words  can  give 
him  the  taste  of  a  pine-apple,  and  make  him  have  the  true  idea 
of  the  relish  of  that  celebrated  delicious  fruit.  So  far  as  he  is 
told  it  has  a  resemblance  with  any  tastes,  whereof  he  has  the 
ideas  already  in  his  memory,  imprinted  there  by  sensible  objects 
not  strangers  to  his  palate,  so  far  may  he  approach  that  resem- 
blance in  his  mind.  But  this  is  not  giving  us  that  idea  by  a 
definition,  but  exciting  in  us  other  simple  ideas  by  their  known 
names ;  which  will  be  still  very  different  from  the  true  taste  of 
that  fruit  itself.  In  light  and  colours,  and  all  other  simple 
ideas,  it  is  the  same  thing  ;  for  the  signification  of  sounds  is  not 
natural,  but  only  imposed  and  arbitrary.  And  no  definition  of 
light  or  redness  is  more  fitted  or  able  to  produce  either  of 
those  ideas  in  us,  than  the  sound  light  or  red  by  itself.  For  to 
hope  to  produce  an  idea  of  light  or  colour  by  a  sound,  however 
formed,  is  to  expect  that  sounds  should  be  visible,  or  colours 
audible,  and  to  make  the  ears  do  the  office  of  all  the  other 
senses  :  which  is  all  one  as  to  say,  that  we  might  taste,  smell, 
and  see  by  the  ears ;  a  sort  of  philosophy  worthy  only  of  Sancho 
Panca,  who  had  the  faculty  to  see  Dulcinea  by  hearsay.  And 
therefore  he  that  has  not  before  received  into  his  mind,  by  the 
proper  inlet,  the  simple  idea  which  any  word  stands  for,  can 
never  come  to  know  the  signification  of  that  word  by  any  other 
words  or  sounds  whatsoever,  put  together  according  to  any  rules 
of  definition.  The  only  way  is  by  applying  to  his  senses  the 
proper  object,  and  so  producing  that  idea  in  him,  for  which  he 
has  learned  the  name  already.  A  studious  blind  man,  who  had 
mightily  beat  his  head  about  visible  objects,  and  made  use  of  the 
explication  of  his  books  and  friends  to  understand  those  names 
of  light  and  colours  which  often  came  in  his  way,  bragged  one 
day  that  he  now  understood  what  scarlet  signified.  Upon 
which  his  friend  demanding  what  scarlet  was  ?  the  blind  man 
answered,  It  was  like  the  sound  of  a  trumpet.  Just  such  an 
understanding  of  the  name  of  any  other  simple  idea  will  he  have, 
who  hopes  to  get  it  only  from  a  definition,  or  other  words  mad< 
use  of  to  explain  it. 


ill.   IV.  J  NAMES  OK  SIMPLE    IDEAS.  39'J 

§    12.    THE    CONTRARY  SHOWED  IN  COMPLEX  IDEAS,   BY   INSTANCES  01'  A 
STATUE   AND  RAINBOW. 

The  case  is  quite  otherwise  in  complex  ideas  ;  which  consist- 
ing of  several  simple  ones,  it  is  in  the  power  of  words,  standing 
for  the  several  ideas  that  make  that  composition,  to  imprint 
complex  ideas  in  the  mind  which  were  never  there  before,  and 
so  make  their  names  be  understood.  In  such  collections  of 
ideas,  passing  under  one  name,  definition,  or  the  teaching  the 
signification  of  one  word  by  several  others,  has  place,  and  may- 
make  us  understand  the  names  of  things  which  never  came  within 
the  reach  of  our  senses ;  and  frame  ideas  suitable  to  those  in 
other  men's  minds,  when  they  use  those  names  :  provided  that 
none  of  the  terms  of  the  definition  stand  for  any  such  simple 
ideas,  which  he  to  whom  the  explication  is  made  has  never  yet 
had  in  his  thought.  Thus  the  word  statue  may  be  explained  to 
a  blind  man  by  other  words,  when  picture  cannot ;  his  senses 
having  given  him  the  idea  of  figure,  but  not  of  colours,  which 
therefore  words  cannot  excite  in  him.  This  gained  the  prize  to 
the  painter  against  the  statuary  :  each  of  which  contending  for 
the  excellency  of  his  art,  and  the  statuary  bragging  that  his  was 
to  be  preferred,  because  it  reached  farther  and  even  those  who 
had  lost  their  eyes  could  yet  perceive  the  excellency  of  it,  the 
painter  agreed  to  refer  himself  to  the  judgment  of  a  blind  man  : 
who  being  brought  where  there  was  a  statue,  made  by  the  one, 
and  a  picture  drawn  by  the  other,  he  was  first  led  to  the  statue, 
in  which  he  traced  with  "his  hands  all  the  lineaments  of  the  face 
and  body,  and  with  great  admiration  applauded  the  skill  of  the 
workman.  But  beiiig  led  to  the  picture,  and  having  his  hands 
laid  upon  it,  was  told  that  now  he  touched  the  head,  and  then 
the  forehead,  eyes,  nose,  <!scc.  as  his  hands  moved  over  the  parts 
of  the  picture  on  the  cloth,  without  finding  any  the  least  distinc- 
tion :  whereupon  he  cried  out,  that  certainly  that  must  needs  be 
a  very  admirable  and  divine  piece  of  workmanship  which  could 
represent  to  them  all  those  parts  where  he  could  neither  feel 
nor  perceive  any  thing. 

§  13. 
He  that  should  use  the  word  rainbow  to  one  who  knew  all 
those  colours,  but  yet  had  never  seen  that  phenomenon,  would, 
by  enumerating  the  figure,  largeness,  position,  and  order  of  the 
colours,  so  well  define  that  word,  that  it  might  be  perfectly 
understood.  But  yet  that  definition,  how  exact  and  perfect 
soever  would  never  make  a  blind  man  understand  it  ;  because 
several  of  the  simple  ideas  that  make  that  complex  one,  being  such 
as  he  never  received  by  sensation  and  experience,  n<>  words  arc 
ible  to  excite  them  in  his  mind. 


400  .NAMES  OF  SIMPLE  IDEAs  [BOOK  III 

§   14.    THE  SAME  OF  COMPLEX    IDEAS    WHEN  TO  BE  MADE  INTELLIGIBLJT 

BY  WORDS. 

Simple  ideas,  as  has  been  showed,  can  only  be  got  by  expe- 
rience, from  those  objects  which  are  proper  to  produce  in  us 
those  perceptions.  When  by  this  means  we  have  our  minds 
stored  with  them,  and  know  the  names  for  them,  then  we  are  in 
condition  to  define,  and  by  definition  to  understand  the  names  of 
complex  ideas,  that  are  made  up  of  them.  But  when  any  term 
stands  for  a  simple  idea,  that  a  man  has  never  yet  had  in  his 
mind,  it  is  impossible  by  any  words  to  make  known  its  meaning 
to  him.  When  any  term  stands  for  an  idea  a  man  is  acquainted 
with,  but  is  ignorant  that  that  term  is  a  sign  of  it ;  there  another 
name,  of  the  same  idea  which  he  has  been  accustomed  to,  may 
make  him  understand  its  meaning.  But  in  no  case  whatsoever 
is  any  name  of  any  simple  idea  capable  of  a  definition. 

§15.       4.    NAMES  OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS  LEAST  DOUBTFUL. 

Fourthly,  But  though  the  names  of  simple  ideas  have  not  the 
help  of  definition  to  determine  their  signification,  yet  that  hinders 
not  but  that  they  are  generally  less  doubtful  and  uncertain  than 
those  of  mixed  modes  and  substances  ;  because  they  standing 
only  for  one  simple  perception,  men,  for  the  most  part,  easily 
and  perfectly  agree  in  their  signification ;  and  there  is  little  room 
for  mistake  and  wrangling  about  their  meaning.  He  that  knows 
once  that  whiteness  is  the  name  of  that  colour  he  has  observed 
in  snow  or  milk,  will  not  be  apt  to  misapply  that  word,  as  long- 
as  he  retains  that  idea  ;  which  when  he  has  quite  lost,  he  is  not 
apt  to  mistake  the  meaning  of  it,  but  perceives  he  understands  it 
not.  There  is  neither  a  multiplicity  of  simple  ideas  to  be  put 
together,  which  makes  the  doubtfulness  in  the  names  of  mixed 
modes  ;  nor  a  supposed  but  an  unknown  real  essence,  with  pro- 
perties depending  thereon,  the  precise  number  whereof  is  also 
unknown,  which  makes  the  difficulty  in  the  names  of  substances. 
But  on  the  contrary,  in  simple  ideas  the  whole  signification  of 
the  name  is  known  at  once,  and  consists  not  of  parts,  whereof 
more  or  less  being  put  in,  the  idea  may  be  varied,  and  so  the  sig- 
nification of  name  be  obscure  and  uncertain. 

•§  16.  5.  simple  ideas  have  few  ascents  in  lined  prcedicamentali. 
Fifthly,  This  farther  may  be  observed  concerning  simple  ideas 
and  their  names,  that  they  have  but  few  ascents  in  line  i  prcedica- 
mentali (as  they  call  it)  from  the  lowest  species  to  the  summum 
genus.  The  reason  whereof  is,  that  the  lowest  species  being 
but  one  simple  idea,  nothing  can  be  left  out  of  it ;  that  so  the 
difference  being  taken  away,  it  may  agree  with  some  other  thing 
in  one  idea  common  to  them  both  ;  which,  having  one  name,  is 
the  genus  of  the  other  two  :  v.  g.  there  is  nothing  that  can  be 
left  out  of  the  idea  of  white  and  red,  to  make  them  agree  in  one 
common  appearance,  and  so  have  one  general  name ;  as  ration- 


CH.  Y.j  NAMES  OF  MIXED  MODES.  401 

ality  being  left  out  of  the  complex  idea  of  man,  makes  it  agree 
with  brute,  in  the  more  general  idea  and  name  of  animal :  and 
therefore  when,  to  avoid  unpleasant  enumerations,  men  would 
comprehend  both  white  and  red,  and  several  other  such  simple 
ideas  under  one  general  name,  they  have  been  fain  to  do  it  by  a 
word  which  denotes  only  the  way  they  get  into  the  mind.  For 
when  white,  red,  and  yellow  are  all  comprehended  under  the 
genu#  or  name  colour,  it  signifies  no  more  but  such  ideas  as  are 
produced  in  the  mind  only  by  the  sight,  and  have  entrance  only 
through  the  eyes.  And  when  they  would  frame  yet  a  more 
general  term,  to  comprehend  both  colours  and  sounds,  and  the 
like  simple  ideas,  they  do  it  by  a  word  that  signifies  all  such  as 
come  into  the  mind  only  by  one  sense :  and  so  the  general 
term  quality,  in  its  ordinary  acceptation,  comprehends  colours, 
sounds,  tastes,  smells,  and  tangible  qualities,  with  distinction 
from  extension,  number,  motion,  pleasure,  and  pain,  which  make 
impressions  on  the  mind,  and  introduce  their  ideas  by  more  senses 
than  one. 

§   17.       G.    NAMES  OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS  NOT  AT  ALL  ARBITRARV. 

Sixthly,  The  names  of  simple  ideas,  substances,  and  mixed 
modes,  have  also  this  difference ;  that  those  of  mixed  modes 
stand  for  ideas  pei  fectly  arbitrary  ;  those  of  substances  are  not 
perfectly  so,  but  1  efer  to  a  pattern,  though  with  some  latitude  ; 
and  those  of  simple  ideas  are  perfectly  taken  from  the  existence 
of  things,  and  are  not  arbitrary  at  all.  Which,  what  difference  it 
makes  in  the  significations  of  their  names,  we  shall  see  in  the 
following  chapters. 

The  names  of  simple  modes  differ  little  from  those  of  simple 
ideas. 


CHAPTER  V. 

OF  THE  NAMES  OF  MIXED  MODES  AND  RELATIONS. 

§    1.    THEY  STAND  FOR  ABSTRACT  IDEAS,  AS  OTHER  GENERAL  NAMES. 

The  names  of  mixed  modes  being  general,  they  stand,  as  has 
been  shown,  for  sorts  or  species  of  things,  each  of  which  has  its 
peculiar  essence.  The  essences  of  these  species  also,  as  has 
been  showed,  are  nothing  but  the  abstract  ideas  in  the  mind,  to 
which  the  name  is  annexed.  Thus  far  the  names  and  essences 
of  mixed  modes  have  nothing  but  what  is  common  to  them  with 
other  ideas  :  but  if  we  take  a  little  nearer  survey  of  them,  we 
shall  find  that  they  have  something  peculiar,  which  perhaps  may 
deserve  our  attention. 

Vol.  I.  51 


40.2  NAME?  OK   MIXED  MODE-.  [BOOK  I.,. 

§  2.        1.    THE  IDEAS   TI1EV   STAND  FOR  ARE   MADE  BY   THE    UNDER- 
STANDING. 

The  first  particularity  I  shall  observe  in  them  is,  that  the 
abstract  ideas,  or,  if  you  please,  the  essences  of  the  several  spe- 
cies of  mixed  modes  are  made  by  the  understanding,  wherein 
they  differ  from  those  of  simple  ideas  :  in  which  sort  the  mind 
has  no  power  to  make  any  one,  but  only  receives  such  as  are 
presented  to  it  by  the  real  existence  of  things  operating  upon  it. 

§  3.       2.    MADE  ARBITRARILY,  AND  "WITHOUT  PATTERNS. 

In  the  next  place,  these  essences  of  the  species  of  mixed  modes 
are  not  only  made  by  the  mind,  but  made  very  arbitrarily,  made 
without  patterns,  or  reference  to  any  real  existence.  Wherein 
they  differ  from  those  of  substances,  which  carry  with  them  the 
supposition  of  some  real  being,  from  which  they  are  taken,  and 
to  which  they  are  conformable.  But  in  its  complex  ideas  of 
mixed  modes,  the  mind  takes  a  liberty  not  to  follow  the  existence 
of  things  exactly.  It  unites  and  retains  certain  collections,  as 
so  many  distinct  specific  ideas,  whilst  others,  that  as  often  occur 
in  nature,  and  are  as  plainly  suggested  by  outward  things,  pass 
neglected,  without  particular  names  or  specifications.  Nor  docs 
the  mind,  in  these  of  mixed  modes,  as  in  the  complex  idea  of 
substances,  examine  them  by  the  real  existence  of  things  ;  or 
verify  them  by  patterns,  containing  such  peculiar  compositions  in 
nature.  To  know  whether  his  idea  of  adultery  or  incest  be  right, 
will  a  man  seek  it  any  where  among  things  existing  ?  Or  is  it 
true,  because  any  one  has  been  witness  tp,  such  an  action  ?  No  : 
but  it  suffices  here,  that  men  have  put  together  such  a  collection 
into  one  complex  idea,  that  makes  the  archetype  and  specific 
idea,  whether  ever  any  such  action  were  committed  in  rerum 
nfttura  or  no. 

§  4.    HOW  THIS  IS  DONE. 

To  understand  this  right,  we  must  consider  wherein  this 
making  of  these  complex  ideas  consists  ;  and  that  is  not  in  the 
making  any  new  idea,  but  putting  together  those  which  the  mind 
had  before.  Wherein  the  mind  does  these  three  things  ;  first,  it 
chooses  a  certain  number ;  secondly,  it  gives  them  connexion, 
and  makes  them  into  one  idea  ;  thirdly,  it  ties  them  together  by 
a  name.  If  we  examine  how  the  mind  proceeds  in  these,  and 
what  liberty  it  takes  in  them,  we  shall  easily  observe  how  these 
essences  of  the  species  of  mixed  modes  are  the  workmanship  of 
the  mind,  and  consequently,  that  the  species  themselves  are  of 
men's  making. 

&..&    I'VJDENTLY  ARBEIT,  ARY.   Pi    THAI    Till;    IPEA    is  OK1TX  1!K1  ORE  Tll.V 

EXISTENCE. 

Nobody  can  doubt,  but  that  these  ideas  'oi  mixed  modes  aiv 
made  bv  ;i  voluntary  collection  of  ideas  put  together  in  tlfe  mind. 


ill.  V.J  »ES    Off    kMXED  MOD-ES.  IQJ 

independent  from  any  original  patterns  in  nature,  w lio  will  bin 
reflect  that  this  sort  of  complex  idea?  may  be  made,  abstracted, 
and  have  names  given  them,  and  so  a  species  be  constituted. 
before  anv  one  individual  of  that  species  ever  existed.  "Who  can 
doubt  but  the  ideas  of  sacrilege  or  adultery  might  he  framed  in 
the  minds  of  men,  and  have  names  given  them;  and  so  these 
species  of  mixed  modes  be  constituted,  before  either  of  them  was 
ever  committed  ;  and  might  be  as  well  discoursed  of  and  reasoned 
about,  and  as  certain  truths  discovered  of  them,  whilst  yet  they 
had  no  being  but  in  the  understanding,  as  well  as  now,  that  they 
have  but  too  frequently  a  real  existence-.''  Whereby  it  is  plain. 
how  much  the  sorts  of  mixed  modes  are  the  creatures  of  the 
understanding;  where  they  have  a  being  as  subservient  to  all  the 
ends  of  real  truth  and  knowledge,  as  when  they  really  exist :  and 
we  cannot  doubt  but  law-makers  have  often  made  laws  about 
species  of  actions,  which  were  only  the  creatures  of  their  own 
understandings  ;  beings  that  had  no  other  existence  but  in  their 
own  minds.  And  I  think  nobody  can  deny,  but  that  the  resur- 
rection was  a  species  of  mixed  modes  in  the  mind  before  it  really 
existed. 

§  tj.    INSTANCES  ;    MURDER,   INCEST,  SCABBING. 

To  see  how  arbitrarily  these  essences  of  mixed  modes  are 
made  by  the  mind,  we  need  but  lake  a  view  of  almost  any  of 
them.  A  little  looking  into  them  will  satisfy  us,  that  it  is  the 
mind  that  combines  several  scattered  independent  ideas  into  one 
complex  one,  and,  by  the  common  name  it  gives  them,  makes 
them  the  essence  of  a  certain  species,  without  regulating  itself 
by  any  connexion  they  have  in  nature.  For  what  greater  con- 
nexion in  nature  has  the  idea  of  a  man,  than  the  idea  of  a 
sheep,  with  killing  ;  that  this  is  made  a  particular  species  of 
action,  signified  by  the  word  murder,  and  the  other  not !  Or 
what  union  is  there  in  nature  between  the  idea  of  the  relation 
of  a  father  with  killing,  than  that  of  a  son,  or  neighbour:  that 
those  are  combined  into  one  complex  idea,  and  thereby  made 
the  essence  of  the  distinct  species  parricide,  whilst  the  other 
make  no  distinct  species  at  all  ?  But  though  they  have  made 
killing  a  man's  father,  or  mother,  a  distinct  species  from  killing 
h;>  son,  or  daughter  ;  yet,  in  some  other  cases,  son  and  daughter 
are  taken  in  too,  as  well  as  father  and  mother  ;  and  they  are  all 
equally  comprehended  in  the  same  species,  as  in  that  of  incest. 
Thus  the  mind  in  mixed  modes  arbitrarily  unites  into  complex 
ideas  such  as  it  funis  convenient  ;  whilst  others,  that  have  alto- 
gether as  much  union  in  nature,  are  left  loose,  and  never  com- 
bined into  one  idea,  be<  ause  they  have,  no  need  of  one  name.  It 
.  evident,  (hen.  that  the  mind  by  its  free  choice  gives  a  connexion 
to  a  certain  number  of  ideas,  which  in  nature  have  no  more  union 
with  one  another,  than  others  that  it  leaves  out:  why  else  is  the 
part  of  the  weapon,  the  beginning  of  the  wound  is  made  with. 


-10-i  NAMES  OP  MIXED  MODES.  [BOOK  III. 

1a ken  notice  of  to  make  the  distinct  species  called  stabbing,  and 
the  figure  and  matter  of  the  weapon  left  out  ?  I  do  not  say  this  is 
done  without  reason,  as  Ave  shall  see  more  by  and  by ;  but  this,  I 
say,  that  it  is  done  by  the  free  choice  of  the  mind,  pursuing  its 
own  ends ;  and  that  therefore  these  species  of  mixed  modes  are 
the  workmanship  of  the  understanding  :  and  there  is  nothing 
more  evident,  than  that,  for  the  most  part,  in  the  framing  these 
ideas  the  mind  searches  not  its  patterns  in  nature,  nor  refers  the 
ideas  it  makes  to  the  real  existence  of  things;  but  puts  such 
together,  as  may  best  serve  its  own  purposes,  without  tying  itself 
to  a  precise  imitation  of  any  thing  that  really  exists. 

§  7.    BUT  STILL  SUBSERVIENT  TO  THE  END  OF  LANGUAGE. 

But  though  these  complex  ideas,  or  essences  of  mixed  modes, 
depend  on  the  mind,  and  are  made  by  it  with  great  liberty  ;  yet 
they  are  not  made  at  random,  and  jumbled  together  without  any 
reason  at  all.  Though  these  complex  ideas  be  not  always  copied 
from  nature,  yet  they  are  always  suited  to  the  end  for  which 
abstract  ideas  are  made  :  and  though  they  be  combinations  made 
of  ideas  that  are  loose  enough,  and  have  as  little  union  in  them- 
selves, as  several  others  to  which  the  mind  never  gives  a  con- 
nexion that  combines  them  into  one  idea ;  yet  they  are  always 
made  for  the  convenience  of  communication,  which  is  the  chief 
end  of  language.  The  use  of  language  is  by  short  sounds  to 
signify  with  ease  and  despatch  general  conceptions  ;  wherein  not 
only  abundance  of  particulars  may  be  contained,  but  also  a  great 
variety  of  independent  ideas  collected  into  one  complex  one.  In 
the  making  therefore  of  the  species  of  mixed  modes,  men  have 
had  regard  only  to  such  combinations  as  they  had  occasion  to 
mention  one  to  another.  Those  they  have  combined  into  distinct 
complex  ideas,  and  given  names  to  ;  whilst  others,  that  in  nature 
have  as  near  a  union,  are  left  loose  and  unregarded.  For  to  go 
no  farther  than  human  actions  themselves,  if  they  would  make 
distinct  abstract  ideas  of  all  the  varieties  might  be  observed  in 
them,  the  number  must  be  infinite,  and  the  memory  confounded 
"with  the  plenty,  as  well  as  overcharged  to  little  purpose.  It 
suffices,  that  men  make  and  name  so  many  complex  ideas  of  these 
mixed  modes,  as  they  find  they  have  occasion  to  have  names  for, 
in  the  ordinary  occurrence  of  their  affairs.  If  they  join  to  the 
idea  of  killing  the  idea  of  father,  or  mother,  and  so  make  a  dis- 
tinct species  from  killing  a  man's  son  or  neighbour,  it  is  because 
of  the  different  heinousness  of  the  crime,  and  the  distinct  punish- 
ment is  due  to  the  murdering  a  man's  father  and  mother,  different 
from  what  ought  to  be  inflicted  on  the  murder  of  a  son  or  neigh- 
hour  ;  and  therefore  they  find  it  necessary  to  mention  it  by  a 
distinct  name,  which  is  the  end  of  making  that  distinct  combina- 
tion. But  though  the  ideas  of  mother  and  daughter  are  so  differ- 
ently treated,  in  reference  to  the  idea  of  killing,  that  the  one  is 
ioined  with  it,  to  make  a  distinct  abstract  idea  with  a  name,  and 


i  JI.  V.}  NAMES  OF  MIXED  MODES.  406 

so  a  distinct  species,  and  the  other  not ;  yet  in  respect  of  carnal 
knowledge,  they  are  both  taken  in  under  incest :  and  that  still 
for  the  same  convenience  of  expressing  under  one  name,  and 
reckoning  of  one  species,  such  unclean  mixtures  as  have  a  pecu- 
liar turpitude  beyond  others ;  and  this  to  avoid  circumlocutions 
and  tedious  descriptions. 

$  8.    WHEREOF  THE  INTRAIS'Sr.ATAIU.E  WO  EDS  OE  DIVERS  LANGUAGES 
ARE    A   PROOF. 

A  moderate  skill  in  different  languages  will  easily  satisfy  one 
of  the  truth  of  this,  it  being  so  obvious  to  observe  great  store  of 
words  in  one  language,  which  have  not  any  that  answer  them  in 
another.  Which  plainly  shows,  that  those  of  one  country,  by 
their  customs  and  manner  of  life,  have  found  occasion  to  make 
several  complex  ideas,  and  given  names  to  them,  which  others 
never  collected  into  specific  ideas.  This  could  not  have  hap- 
pened, if  these  species  were  the  steady  workmanship  of  nature, 
and  not  collections  made  and  abstracted  by  the  mind,  in  order  to 
naming,  and  for  the  convenience  of  communication.  The  terms 
of  our  law,  which  are  not  empty  sounds,  will  hardly  find  words 
that  answer  them  in  the  Spanish  or  Italian,  no  scanty  languages  ; 
much  less,  1  think,  could  any  one  translate  them  into  the  Carib- 
bee  or  Westoe  tongues  :  and  the  Vcrsura  of  the  Romans,  or 
Corban  of  the  Jews,  have  no  words  in  other  languages  to  answer 
them ;  the  reason  whereof  is  plain,  from  what  has  been  said. 
Nay,  if  we  look  a  little  more  nearly  into  this  matter,  and  exactly 
compare  different  languages,  we  shall  find,  that  though  they  have 
words  which  in  translations  and  dictionaries  are  supposed  to 
answer  one  another,  yet  there  is  scarce  one  of  ten  among  the 
names  of  complex  ideas,  especially  of  mixed  modes,  that  stands 
for  the  same  precise  idea,  which  the  word  does  that  in  dictiona- 
ries it  is  rendered  by.  There  are  no  ideas  more  common,  and 
less  compounded,  than  the  measures  of  time,  extension,  and 
weight,  and  the  Latin  names,  hora.  pes,  libra,  are  without  diffi- 
culty rendered  by  the  English  names,  hour,  foot,  and  pound  :  but 
yet  there  is  nothing  more  evident,  than  that  the  ideas  a  Roman 
annexed  to  these  Latin  names  were  very  far  different  from  those 
which  an  Englishman  expresses  by  those  English  ones.  And  if 
either  of  these  should  make  use  of  the  measures  that  those  of 
the  other  language  designed  by  their  names,  he  would  be  quite 
out  in  his  account.  These  are  too  sensible  proofs  to  be 
doubted  ;  and  we  shall  find  this  much  more  so,  in  the  names 
of  more  abstract  and  compounded  ideas,  such  as  arc  the  greatest 
part  of  those  which  make  up  moral  discourses  ;  whose  names, 
when  men  come  curiously  to  compare  with  those  they  are 
translated  into,  in  other  languages,  they  will  find  very  few  of 
them  exactly  to  correspond  in  the  whole  extent  of  their  signifi- 
cations. 


406  NAM?ES  OF  MIXED  MOUEn  [bO'O'K  III, 

§  9.    THIS  SHOWS   SPECIES  TO  BE  MADE  FOR  COMMUNICATION. 

The  reason  why  I  take  so  particular  notice  of  this  is,  that  we 
may  not  be  mistaken  about  genera  and  species,  and  their  essen- 
ces, as  if  they  were  things  regularly  and  constantly  made  by 
nature,  and  had  a  real  existence  in  things  ;  when  they  appear, 
upon  a  more  wary  survey,  to  be  nothing  else  but  an  artifice  of 
the  understanding,  for  the  easier  signifying  such  collections  of 
ideas  as  it  should  often  have  occasion  to  communicate  by  one 
general  term ;  under  which  divers  particulars,  as  far  forth  as 
they  agreed  to  that  abstract  idea,  might  be  comprehended. 
And  if  the  doubtful  signification  of  the  word  species  may  make 
it  sound  harsh  to  some,  that  I  say  the  species  of  mixed  modes 
are  made  by  the  understanding ;  yet,  I  think,  it  can  by  nobody 
be  denied,  that  it  is  the  mind  makes  those  abstract  complex  ideas 
to  which  specific  names  are  given.  And  if  it  be  true,  as  it  is. 
that  the  mind  makes  the  patterns  for  sorting  and  naming  of 
things,  I  leave  it  to  be  considered  who  makes  the  boundaries  of 
the  sort  or  species  ;  since  with  me  species  and  sort  have  no  other 
difference  than  that  of  a  Latin  and  English  idiom. 

$    10.    IN  MIXED  MODES  IT  IS  THE    NAME    THAT     TIES  THE  COMBINATION 
TOGETHER,  AND  MAKES  IT  A  SPECIES. 

The  near  relation  that  there  is  between  species,  essences,  and 
their  general  name,  at  least  in  mixed  modes,  will  farther  appear, 
when  we  consider  that  it   is   the  name   that  seems  to  preserve 
those  essences,  and  give   them  their  lasting  duration.     For  the 
connexion  between  the  loose  parts  of  those  complex  ideas  being 
made  by  the  mind,  this  union,  which  has  no  particular  foundation 
in  nature,  would  cease  again,  were  there  not  something  that  did. 
as  it  were,  hold  it  together,  and  keep  the  parts  from  scattering. 
Though  therefore  it  be  the  mind  that  makes  the  collection,  it  is 
the  name  which  is  as  it  were  the   knot  that  ties  them  fast  to- 
gether.    What  a  vast  variety  of  different   ideas  does  the  word 
trhunphus  hold  together,  and  deliver  to  us  as  one  species  !     Had 
this  name  been  never  made,  or  quite   lost,  we  might,  no  doubt, 
have  had  descriptions  of  what  passed  in  that  solemnity  :  but  yet, 
I  think,  that  which  holds  those  different  parts  together,  in  the 
unity  of  one  complex  idea,  is  that  very  word  annexed  to   it ; 
without  which  the   several   parts  of  that  would  no  more   be 
thought  to  make  one  thing,  than  any  other  show,  which,  having 
never  been  made  but   once,  had   never  been  united   into  one 
complex  idea,  under  one  denomination.     How  much,  therefore, 
in  mixed  modes,  the  unity  necessary  to  any  essence  depends  on 
lie  mind,  and  how  much  the  continuation  and  fixing  of  that  unity 
epends  on  the  name  in  common  use  annexed  to  it,  I  leave  to  be 
considered  by  those  who  look  upon  essences  and  species  as  real 
established  things  in  nature. 


Ml.  Y.j  KAJUflS  OF  MIXED  MODES.  40? 

§11. 

Suitable  to  this,  we  find,  that  men  speaking  of  mixed  modes, 
seldom  imagine  or  take  any  other  for  species  of  them,  but  such 
as  are  set  out  by  name  :  because  they  being  of  man's  making 
only,  in  order  to  naming,  no  such  species  are  taken  notice  of,  or 
supposed  to  be,  unless  a  name  be  joined  to  it,  as  the  sign  of  a 
man's  having  combined  into  one  idea  several  loose  ones  :  and  by 
that  name  giving  a  lasting  union  to  the  parts,  which  could  other- 
wise cease  to  have  any,  as  soon  as  the  mind  laid  by  that  abstract 
idea,  and  ceased  actually  to  think  on  it.  But  when  a  name  is 
once  annexed  to  it,  wherein  the  parts  of  that  complex  idea  have 
a  settled  and  permanent  union  ;  then  is  the  essence  as  it  were 
established,  and  the  species  looked  on  as  complete.  For  to  what 
purpose  should  the  memory  charge  itself  with  such  compositions, 
unless  it  were  by  abstraction  to  make  them  general  1  And  to  what 
purpose  make  them  general,  unless  it  were  that  they  might  have 
general  names,  for  the  convenience  of  discourse  and  communi- 
cation ?  Thus  we  see,  that  killing  a  man  with  a  sword  or  a 
hatchet,  are  looked  on  as  no  distinct  species  of  action  :  but  if 
the  point  of  the  sword  first  enter  the  body,  it  passes  for  a  distinct 
species,  where  it  has  a  distinct  name;  as  in  England,  in  whose 
language  it  is  called  stabbing:  but  in  another  country,  where 
it  has  not  happened  to  be  specified  under  a  peculiar  name,  it 
passes  not  for  a  distinct  species.  But  in  the  species  of  corpo- 
real substances,  though  it  be  the  mind  that  makes  the  nominal 
essence  ;  yet  since  those  ideas  which  are  combined  in  it  are 
supposed  to  have  a  union  in  nature,  whether  the  mind  joins 
them  or  no,  therefore  those  are  looked  on  as  distinct  names, 
without  any  operation  of  the  mind,  either  abstracting  or  giving 
a  name  to  that  complex  idea. 

N  \%,  FOIt  THE  ORIGINALS  OF  MIXED  MODES,  WE  LOOK  NO  FARTHER 
THAN  THE  MIND,  WHICH  ALSO  SHOWS  THEM  TO  BE  THE  WORKMAN- 
SHIP OF  THE     I'NDKKSTANDINO. 

Conformable  also  to  what  has  been  said,  concerning  the  essen- 
ces of  the  species  of  mixed  modes,  that  they  are  the  creatures 
of  the  understanding,  rather  than  the  works  of  nature:  conform- 
able, I  say,  to  this,  we  find  that  their  names  lead  our  thoughts 
to  the  mind,  and  no  farther.  When  we  speak  of  justice,  or 
gratitude,  we  frame  to  ourselves  no  imagination  of  any  thing  ex- 
isting, which  we  would  conceive  ;  but  our  thoughts  terminate  in 
ihe  abstract  ideas  of  those  virtues,  and  look  not  farther  :  as  they 
dOj  w  hen  we  speak  of  a  horse,  or  iron,  whose  specific  ideas  we 
consider  not,  as  barely  in  the  mind,  but  as  in  things  themselves, 
which  afford  the  original  patterns  of  those  ideas.  But  in  mixed 
modes,  al  least  the  most  considerable  parts  of  them,  which  are. 
moral  beings,  we  consider  the  original  patterns  as  being  in  the 
mind:  and  to  thos*  r  fori  the  distinguishing  of  particular 


408  NAMES  OP  MIXED  MODES.  [BOOK  III, 

beings  under  names.  And  hence  I  think  it  is,  that  these  essences 
of  the  species  of  mixed  modes  are  by  a  more  particular  name  called 
notions, as,  by  a  peculiar  right,  appertainingto  the  understanding. 

§   13.    THEIR  BEING  MADE  BY  THE  UNDERSTANDING  WITHOUT  PATTERNS 
SHOWS  THE  REASON  WHY   THEY  ARE  SO  COMPOUNDED. 

Hence  likewise  we  may  learn,  why  the  complex  ideas  of  mixed 
modes  are  commonly  more  compounded  and  decompounded  than 
those  of  natural  substances.  Because  they  being  the  workmanship 
of  the  understanding  pursuing  only  its  own  ends,  and  the  conve- 
niency  of  expressing  in  short  those  ideas  it  would  make  known  to 
another,  it  does  with  great  liberty  unite  often  into  one  abstract 
idea  things  that  in  their  nature  have  no  coherence  ;  and  so,  under 
one  term,  bundle  together  a  great  variety  of  compounded  and 
decompounded  ideas.  Thus  the  name  of  procession,  what  a 
great  mixture  of  independent  ideas  of  persons,  habits,  tapers, 
orders,  motions,  sounds,  does  it  contain  in  that  complex  one, 
which  the  mind  of  man  has  arbitrarily  put  together,  to  express 
by  that  one  name  !  Whereas  the  complex  ideas  of  the  sorts  of 
substances  are  usually  made  up  of  only  a  small  number  of  simple 
ones;  and  in  the  species  of  animals,  these  two,  viz.  shape  and 
voice,  commonly  make  the  whole  nominal  essence. 

§    14.    NAMES  OF  MIXED  MODES  STAND    ALWAYS  FOR  THEIR  REAL 
ESSENCES. 

Another  thing  we  may  observe  from  what  has  been  said  is,  that 
the  names  of  mixed  modes  always  signify  (when  they  have  any 
determined  signification)  the  real  essences  of  their  species.  For 
these  abstract  ideas  being  the  workmanship  of  the  mind,  and  not 
referred  to  the  real  existence  of  things,  there  is  no  supposition  of 
any  thing  more  signified  by  that  name,  but  barely  that  complex 
idea  the  mind  itself  has  formed,  which  is  all  it  would  have 
expressed  by  it :  and  is  that  on  which  all  the  properties  of  the 
species  depend,  and  from  which  alone  they  all  flow  :  and  so  in 
these  the  real  and  nominal  essence  is  the  same  ;  which  of  what 
concernment  it  is  to  the  certain  knowledge  of  general  truth,  we 
shall  see  hereafter. 

§  15.    WHY  THEIR  NAMES  ARE  USUALLY  GOT  BEFORE  THEIR  IDEAS. 

This  also  may  show  us  the  reason,  why  for  the  most  part  the 
names  of  mixed  modes  are  got  before  the  ideas  they  stand  for 
are  perfectly  known.  Because  there  being  no  species  of  these 
ordinarily  taken  notice  of,  but  what  have  names  ;  and  those  spe- 
cies, or  rather  their  essences,  being  abstract  complex  ideas  made 
arbitrarily  by  the  mind ;  it  is  convenient,  if  not  necessary,  to 
know  the  names,  before  one  endeavour  to  frame  these  complex 
ideas :  unless  a  man  will  fill  his  head  with  a  company  of  abstract 
complex  ideas,  which  others  having  no  names  for,  he  has  nothing 
to  do  with,  but  to  lay  by,  and  forget  again.     I  confess,  that  in  the 


ell.  V.J  NAMES  OP  MIXED  MODES.  409 

beginning  of  languages  it  was  necessary  to  have  the  idea,  before 
one  gave  it  the  name  :  and  so  it  is  still,  where  making  a  new 
complex  idea,  one  also,  by  giving  it  a  new  name,  makes  a  new 
word.  But  this  concerns  not  languages  made,  which  have 
generally  pretty  well  provided  tor  ideas,  which  men  have  fre- 
quent occasion  to  have  and  communicate  :  and  in  such,  I  ask, 
whether  it  be  not  the  ordinary  method,  that  children  learn  the 
names  of  mixed  modes,  before  they  have  their  ideas  ?  What  one 
of  a  thousand  ever  frames  the  abstract  ideas  of  glory  and  ambi- 
tion, before  he  has  heard  the  names  of  them  ?  In  simple  ideas 
and  substances  I  grant  it  is  otherwise  ;  which  being  such  ideas  as 
have  a  real  existence  and  union  in  nature,  the  ideas  and  names 
•are  got  one  before  the  other,  as  it  happens. 

6  16.  REASON  OF  MV  BEING  SO  LARGE  ON  THIS  .SUBJECT. 

"What  has  been  said  here  of  mixed  modes,  is  with  very  litt;e 
difference  applicable  also  to  relations  ;  which,  since  every  man 
himself  may  observe,  I  may  spare  myself  the  pains  to  enlarge 
on  :  especially,  since  what  I  have  here  said  concerning  words  in 
this  third  book,  will  possibly  be  thought  by  some  to  be  much 
more  than  what  so  slight  a  subject  required.  I  allow  it  might  be 
Drought  into  a  narrower  compass  ;  but  I  was  willing  to  stay  my 
reader  on  an  argument  that  appears  to  me  new,  and  a  little  out 
of  the  way  (I  am  sure  it  is  one  I  thought  not  of  when  I  began  to 
write,)  that  by  searching  it  to  the  bottom,  and  turning  it  on  every 
side,  some  part  or  other  might  meet  with  every  one's  thoughts, 
and  give  occasion  to  the  most  averse  or  negligent  to  reflect  on  a 
general  miscarriage,  which,  though  of  great  consequence,  is  little 
taken  notice  of.  When  it  is  considered  what  a  pudder  is  made 
about  essences,  and  how  much  all  sorts  of  knowledge,  discourse, 
and  conversation  are  pestered  and  disordered  by  the  careless  and 
confused  use  and  application  of  words,  it  will  perhaps  be  thought 
worth  while  thoroughly  to  lay  it  open.  And  1  shall  be  pardoned 
if  I  have  dwelt  long  on  an  argument  which  1  think  therefore 
needs  to  be  inculcated  ;  because  the  faults  men  are  usually 
guilty  of  in  this  kind,  are  not  only  the  greatest  hinderances  of  true- 
knowledge,  but  are  so  well  thought  of  as  to  pass  for  it.  Men 
would  often  see  what  a  small  pittance  of  reason  and  truth,  or 
possibly  none  at  all,  is  mixed  with  those  huffing  opinions  they  are 
swelled  with,  if  they  would  but  look  beyond  fashionable  sounds, 
and  observe  what  ideas  are,  or  are  not  comprehended  under  those 
words  with  which  they  are  so  armed  at  all  points,  and  with  which 
they  so  confidently  lay  about  them.  1  shall  imagine  I  have  done 
some  service  to  truth,  peace,  and  learning,  if,  by  any  enlargement 
on  this  subject,  I  can  make  men  reflect  on  their  own  use  of  lan- 
guage ;  and  give  them  reason  to  suspect,  that  since  it  is  frequent 
for  others,  it  may  also  be  possible  for  them  to  have  sometimes 
'  py  good  and  approved  words  in  their  mouths  and  writings,  with 
Vol.  I. 


liC  AAMES  OF  bLJ5Sl'AJ\CES.  [liOOJv   ill, 

very  uncertain,  little,  or  no  signification.  And  therefore  it  is  not 
unreasonable  for  them  to  be  wary  herein  themselves,  and  not  to 
be  unwilling  to  have  them  examined  by  others.  With  this  design, 
therefore,  1  shall  go  on  with  what  I  have  farther  to  say  concerning 
ibis  matter. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OF  THE  NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCES. 

$  1.  THE  COMMON  NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCES  STAND  FOR  SORTS. 

The  common  names  of  substances,  as  well  as  other  general 
terms,  stand  for  sorts  ;  which  is  nothing  else  but  the  being  made 
signs  of  such  complex  ideas,  wherein  several  particular  sub- 
stances do,  or  might  agree,  by  virtue  of  which  they  are  capable 
of  being  comprehended  in  one  common  conception,  and  signified 
by  one  name.  I  say,  do  or  might  agree  :  for  though  there  be  but 
one  sun  existing  in  the  world,  yet  the  idea  of  it  being  abstracted, 
so  that  more  substances  (if  there  were  several)  might  each  agree 
in  it ;  it  is  as  much  a  sort,  as  if  there  were  as  many  suns  as  there 
arc  stars.  They  want  not  their  reasons  who  think  there  are,  and 
that  each  fixed  star  would  answer  the  idea  the  name  sun  stands 
for,  to  one  who  was  placed  in  a  due  distance ;  which,  by  the  way, 
may  show  us  how  much  the  sorts,  or,  if  you  please,  genera  and 
species  of  things  (for  those  Latin  terms  signify  to  me  no  more 
than  the  English  word  sort)  depend  on  such  collections  of  ideas 
as  men  have  made,  and  not  on  the  real  nature  of  things  ;  since  it 
is  not  impossible  but  that,  in  propriety  of  speech,  that  might  be 
a  sun  to  one,  which  is  a  star  to  another. 

§  2.    THE  ESSENCE  OF  EACH  SORT  IS  THE  ABSTRACT  IDEA.. 

The  measure  and  boundary  of  each  sort,  or  species,  whereb} 
it  is  constituted  that  particular  sort,  and  distinguished  from  others, 
is  that  we  call  its  essence,  which  is  nothing  but  that  abstract  idea 
to  which  the  name  is  annexed  :  so  that  every  thing  contained  in 
that  idea  is  essential  to  that  sort.  This,  though  it  be  all  the 
essence  of  natural  substances  that  we  know,  or  by  which  we 
distinguish  them  into  sorts  ;  yet  I  call  it  by  a  peculiar  name,  the 
nominal  essence,  to  distinguish  it  from  the  real  constitution  of 
substances,  upon  which  depends  this  nominal  essence,  and  all 
the  properties  of  that  sort ;  which  therefore,  as  has  been  said, 
may  be  called  the  real  essence :  v.  g.  the  nominal  essence  of  gold 
is  that  complex  idea  the  word  gold  stands  for,  let  it  be,  for 
instance,  a  body  yellow,  of  a  certain  weight,  malleable,  fusible,  and 
lived.  But  the  real  essence  is  the  constitution  of  the  insensible 
parts  of  that  body,  on  which  those  qualities  and  all  the  othei 


.».  VI.  j  N*iMES  OF  SUBSTANCSi 

properties  of  gold  depend.  How  far  these  two  are  different, 
though  they  are  both  called  essence,  is  obvious  nt  first  sight  to 
discover. 

vj>  li.    THE  NOMINAL  AND  REAL  ESSENCE  DIFFERENT. 

1 'or  though  perhaps  voluntary  motion,  with  sense  and  reason, 
joined  to  a  body  of  a  certain  shape,  be  the  complex  idea  to  which 
I,  and  others,  annex  the  name  man,  and  so  be  the  nominal  essence, 
of  the  species  so  called  ;  yet  nobody  will  say  that  complex  idea 
is  the  real  essence  and  source  of  all  those  operations  which  are 
to  be  found  in  any  individual  of  that  sort.  The  foundation  of  all 
those  qualities,  which  are  the  ingredients  of  our  complex  idea,i.-> 
something  quite  different :  and  had  we  such  a  knowledge  of  that 
constitution  of  man,  from  which  his  faculties  of  moving,  sensa- 
tion, and  reasoning,  and  other  powers  flow,  and  on  which  his 
so  regular  shape  depends,  as  it  is  possible  angels  have,  and  it  is 
certain  his  Maker  has  ;  we  should  have  a  quite  other  idea  of  his 
essence  than  what  now  is  contained  in  our  definition  of  that  spe- 
cies, be  it  what  it  will:  and  our  idea  of  any  individual  man  would 
be  as  far  different  from  what  it  is  now,  as  is  his  who  knows  all 
the  springs  and  wheels  and  other  contrivances  within,  of  the 
famous  clock  at  Strasburg,  from  that  which  a  gazing  countryman 
has  for  it,  who  barely  sees  the  motion  of  the  hand,  and  hears 
the  clock  strike,  and  observes  only  some  of  the  outward  appear- 
ances. 

-    4.    NOTHING  ESSENTIAL  TO  INDIVIDUALS. 

That  essence,  in  the  ordinary  use  of  the  word,  relates  to  sorts  ; 
and  that  it  is  considered  in  particular  beings  no  farther  than  as 
they  are  ranked  into  sorts  ;  appears  from  hence  :  that  take  but. 
away  the  abstract  ideas,  by  which  we  sort  individuals,  and  rank 
them  under  common  names,  and  then  the  thought  of  any  thing 
essential  to  any  of  them  instantly  vanishes  ;  we  have  no  notion 
of  the  one  without  the  other ;  which  plainly  shows  their  relation, 
ft  is  necessary  for  me  to  be  as  1  am  ;  God  and  nature  has  made 
me  so :  but  there  is  nothing  I  have  is  essential  to  me.  An  acci- 
dent, or  disease,  may  very  much  alter  my  colour,  or  shape  ;  a 
fever,  or  fall,  may  take  away  my  reason  or  memory,  or  both,  and 
an  apoplexy  leave  neither  sense  nor  understanding,  no,  nor  life', 
Other  creatures  of  my  shape  maybe  made  with  more  and  better, 
or  lewer  and  worse  faculties  than  I  have  ;  and  others  may  have 
reason  arur  sense  in  a  shape  and  body  very  different  from  mine. 
None  of  these  are  essential  to  the  one,  or  the  other,  or  to  any 
individual  whatever,  till  the  mind  refers  it  to  some  sort  or  species 
of  things  ;  and  then  presently,  according  to  the  abstract  idea  of 
that  sort,  something  is  found  essential.  Let  any  one  examine  his 
own  thoughts,  and  he  will  find  that  as  soon  as  he  supposes  01 
speaks  of  essential,  the  consideration  of  some  species,  or  the. 
complex  idea.  sisrnifiVd   bv  some  een^'al  name,  come*  into  his 


-312  NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCE^.  [COOKJII. 

mind  ;  and  it  is  in  reference  to  that,  that  this  or  that  quality  is 
said  to  be  essential.  So  that  if  it  be  asked,  whether  it  be  essen- 
tial to  me  or  any  other  particular  corporeal  being  to  have  reason? 
1  say  no  ;  no  more  than  it  is  essential  to  this  white  thing  I  write 
on  to  have  words  in  it.  But  if  that  particular  being  be  to  be 
counted  of  the  sort  man,  and  to  have  the  name  man  given  it,  then 
reason  is  essential  to  it,  supposing  reason  to  be  a  part  of  the 
complex  idea  the  name  man  stands  for ;  as  it  is  essential  to  this 
thing  I  write  on  to  contain  words,  if  I  will  give  it  the  name  trea- 
tise, and  rank  it  under  that  species.  So  that  essential,  and  not 
essential,  relate  only  to  our  abstract  ideas,  and  the  names 
annexed  to  them  :  which  amounts  to  no  more  but  this,  that 
whatever  particular  thing  has  not  in  it  those  qualities,  which 
are  contained  in  the  abstract  idea,  which  any  general  term 
stands  for,  cannot  be  ranked  under  that  species,  nor  be  called 
by  that  name,  since  that  abstract  idea  is  the  very  essence  of  that 
species. 

§5. 

Thus  if  the  idea  of  body,  with  some  people,  be  bare  extension 
or  space,  then  solidity  is  not  essential  to  body  :  if  others  make 
the  idea,  to  which  they  give  the  name  body,  to  be  solidity  and 
extension,  then  solidity  is  essential  to  body.  That,  therefore,  and 
that  alone,  is  considered  as  essential,  which  makes  a  part  of  the 
complex  idea  the  name  of  a  sort  stands  for,  without  which  no 
particular  thing  can  be  reckoned  of  that  sor^,  nor  be  entitled  to 
that  name.  Should  there  be  found  a  parcel  of  matter  that  had 
all  the  other  qualities  that  are  in  iron,  but  wanted  obedience  to 
the  loadstone  ;  and  would  neither  be  drawn  by  it,  nor  receive 
direction  from  it ;  would  any  one  question,  whether  it  wanted 
any  tiling  essential  ?  It  would  be  absurd  to  ask,  Whether  a  thing 
really  existing  wanted  any  thing  essential  to  it.  Or  could  it  be 
demanded,  Whether  this  made  an  essential  or  specific  difference 
or  no  ;  since  we  have  no  other  measure  essential  or  specific,  but 
our  abstract  ideas  1  And  to  talk  of  specific  differences  in  nature, 
without  reference  to  general  ideas  and  names,  is  to  talk  unintelli- 
gibly. For  I  would  ask  any  one,  What  is  suflicient  to  make  an 
essential  difference  in  nature,  between  any  two  particular  beings. 
without  any  regard  had  to  some  abstract  idea,  which  is  looked  upon 
as  the  essence  and  standard  of  a  species  ?  All  such  patterns  and 
standards  being  quite  laid  aside,  particular  beings,  considered 
barely  in  themselves,  will  be  found  to  have  all  their  qualities 
equally  essential ;  and  every  thing,  in  each  individual,  will  be 
essential  to  it,  or,  which  is  more,  nothing  at  all.  For  though  it 
may  be  reasonable  to  ask,  Whether  obeying  the  magnet  be 
essential  to  iron  ?  yet,  I  think,  it  is  very  improper  and  insignifi- 
cant to  ask,  Whether  it  be  essential  to  the  particular  parcel  of 
matter  I  cut  my  pen  with,  without  considering  it  under  the  name 
rron.  ov  as  being  of  a -certain  species  ?     And  if.  as  ha«  been  said. 


I  II.  VI.]  NAMES    Or  SUBSTANCES.  413 

our  abstract  ideas,  which  have  names  annexed  to  them,  are  the 
boundaries  of  species,  nothing  can  be  essential  but  what  is  con- 
tained in  those  ideas. 

§6. 

It  is  true,  I  have  often  mentioned  a  real  essence,  distinct  in 
substances  from  those  abstract  ideas  of  them,  which  I  call  their* 
nominal  essence.  By  this  real  essence  I  mean  the  real  constitu- 
lion  of  any  thing,  which  is  the  foundation  of  all  those  properties 
ihat  are  combined  in,  and  are  constantly  found  to  coexist  with 
the  nominal  essence  ;  that  particular  constitution  which  every 
thing  has  within  itself,  without  any  relation  to  any  thing  without 
it.  But  essence,  even  in  this  sense,  relates  to  a  sort,  and  sup- 
poses a  species  :  for  being  that  real  constitution,  on  which  the 
properties  depend,  it  necessarily  supposes  a  sort  of  things,  pro- 
perties belonging  only  to  species,  and  not  to  individuals,  v.  g. 
supposing  the  nominal  essence  of  gold  to  be  a  body  of  such  a 
peculiar  colour  and  weight,  with  malleability  and  fusibility,  the 
real  essence  is  that  constitution  of  the  parts  of  matter,  on  which 
these  qualities  and  their  union  depend  ;  and  is  also  the  founda- 
tion of  its  solubility  in  aqua  regia  and  other  properties  accompa- 
nying that  complex  idea.  Here  are  essences  and  properties,  but 
all  upon  supposition  of  a  sort,  or  general  abstract  idea,  which  is 
considered  as  immutable  :  but  there  is  no  individual  parcel  of 
matter,  to  which  any  of  these^qualities  are  so  annexed,  as  to  be 
essential  <o  it.  or  inseparable  from  it.  That  which  is  essential 
belongs  to  it  as  a  condition,  whereby  it  is  of  this  or  that  sort : 
but  take  away  the  consideration  oi  its  being  ranked  under  the 
name  of  some  abstract  idea,  and  then  there  is  nothing  necessary 
to  it,  nothing  inseparable  from  it.  Indeed,  as  to  the  real  essences 
of  substances,  we  only  suppose  their  being,  without  precisely 
knowing  what  they  are  :  but  that  which  annexes  them  still  to 
the  species,  is  the  nominal  essence,  of  which  they  are  the  sup- 
posed foundation  and  cause. 

§  7.    THE    NOMIXAL   ESSENCE  BOUNDS  THE  SPECIES. 

The  next  thing  to  be  considered  is,  by  which  of  those  essences 
it  is  that  substances  are  determined  into  sorts,  or  species  ;  and 
that,  it  is  evident,  is  by  the  nominal  essence.  For  it  is  that  alone 
lhat  the  name,  which  is  the  mark  of  the  sort,  signifies.  It  is 
impossible  therefore,  that  any  thing  should  determine  the  sorts  of 
things,  which  we  rank  under  general  names,  but  that  idea  which 
that  name  is  designed  as  a  mark  for;  which  is  that,  as  has  been 
shown,  which  we  call  nominal  essence.  Why  do  we  say,  this  is 
is  a  horse,  and  that  a  mule  ;  this  is  an  animal,  that  an  herb  I 
How  comes  any  particular  thing  to  be  of  this  or  that  sort,  but 
because  it  has  that  nominal  essence,  or,  which  is  all  one,  agrees 
to  that  abstract  idea  that  name  is  annexed  to  !  And  1  desire  any 
one  bul  to  refleci  on  ]\\<  own  thoughts  he  hears  or  speak- 


\AMK.-    OF    SUBSTANCES.  [bOOKIII. 

any  of  those,  or  other  names  of  substances,  to  know  what  sort 
of  essences  they  stand  for. 

§8. 
And  that  the  species  of  things  to  us  are  nothing  but  the  ranking 
them  under  distinct  names,  according  to  the  complex  ideas  in 
us,  and  not  according  to  precise,  distinct,  real  essences  in  them  ; 
is  plain  from  hence,  that  we  find  many  of  the  individuals  that  are. 
ranked  into  one  sort,  called  by  one  common  name,  and  so  re- 
ceived as  being  of  one  species,  have  yet  qualities  depending  on 
their  real  constitutions,  as  far  different  one  from  another,  as  from 
others,  from  which  they  are  accounted  to  diifer  specifically. 
This,  as  it  is  easy  to  be  observed  by  all  who  have  to  do  with 
natural  bodies ;  so  chymists  especially  are  often,  by  sad  experi- 
ence, convinced  of  it,  when  they,  sometimes  in  vain,  seek  for 
the  same  qualities  in  one  parcel  of  sulphur,  antimony,  or  vitriol, 
which  they  have  found  in  others.  For  though  they  are  bodies 
of  the  same  species,  having  the  same  nominal  essence,  under  the 
same  name ;  yet  do  they  often,  upon  severe  ways  of  exami- 
nation, betray  qualities  so  different  one  from  another,  as  to  frus- 
trate the  expectation  and  labour  of  very  wary  chymists.  But  if 
things  were  distinguished  into  species,  according  to  their  real 
essences,  it  would  be  as  impossible  to  find  different  properties  in 
any  two  individual  substances  of  the  same  species,  as  it  is  to  find 
different  properties  in  two  circles,  or  two  equilateral  triangles. 
That  is  properly  the  essence  to  us,  which  determines  every  par- 
ticular to  this  or  that  classis  ;  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  to  this 
or  that  general  name  :  and  what  can  that  be  else,  but  that 
abstract  idea,  to  which  that  name  is  annexed  ?  and  so  has,  in 
truth,  a  reference,  not  so  much  to  the  being  of  particular  things, 
ns  to  their  general  denominations. 

§  9.    NOT  THE  REAL  ESSENCE,  WHICH  V/E  KNOW  NOT. 

Nor  indeed  can  we  rank  and  sort  things,  and  consequently 
(which  is  the  end  of  sorting)  denominate  them  by  their  real 
essences,  because  we  know  them  not.  Our  faculties  carry  us  no 
farther  toward  the  knowledge  and  distinction  of  substances,  than 
a  collection  of  those  sensible  ideas  which  we  observe  in  them  ; 
which,  however  made  with  the  greatest  diligence  and  exactness 
we  are  capable  of,  yet  it  is  more  remote  from  the  true  internal 
constitution  from  which  those  qualities  flow,  than,  as  1  said,  a 
countryman's  idea  is  from  the  inward  contrivance  of  that  famous 
clock  at  Strasburgh,  whereof  he  only  sees  the  outward  figure 
and  motions.  There  is  not  so  contemptible  a  plant  or  animal, 
that  does  notconfound  the  most  enlarged  understanding.  Though 
the  familiar  use  of  things  about  us  take  off  our  wonder ;  yet  it 
cures  not  our  ignorance.  When  we  come  to  examine  the  stones 
we  tread  on,  or  the  iron  we  daily  handle,  we  presently  find  we 
know  not  their  make,  and   can  give  no  reason  of  the  different 


.11.  VI.]  NAMES  Or  SUBSTANCES.  415 

qualities  wc  timl  in  them.     It  is  evident  the  internal  constitution 

whereon  their  properties  depend,  is  unknown  to  us.  For  to  go 
no  farther  than  the  grossest  and  most  obvious  we  can  imagine 
among  them,  what  is  that  texture  of  parts,  that  real  essence, 
that  makes  lead  and  antimony  fusible  ;  wood  and  stone-  not  '. 
What  makes  lead  and  antimony  malleable,  antimony  and  stones 
not?  And  yet  how  infinitely  these  come  short  of  the  fine  contri- 
vances, and  unconceivable  real  essences  of  plants  or  animals, 
everyone  knows.  The  workmanship  of  the  all-wise  and  pow- 
erful God,  in  the  great  fabric  of  the  universe,  and  every  pari, 
thereof,  farther  exceeds  the  capacity  and  comprehension  of  the 
most  inquisitive  and  intelligent  man,  than  the  best  contrivance 
of  the  most  ingenious  man  doth  the  conceptions  of  the  mos' 
ignorant  of  rational  creatures.  Therefore  we  in  vain  pretend 
to  range  things  into  sorts,  and  dispose  them  into  certain  classes, 
under  names,  by  their  real  essences,  that  are  so  far  from  oui 
discovery  or  comprehension.  A  blind  man  may  as  soon  sort: 
things  by  their  colours,  and  he  that  has  lost  his  smell  as  well 
distinguish  a  lily  and  a  rose  by  their  odours,  as  by  those  interna! 
constitutions  which  he  knows  not.  He  that  thinks  he  can  distin- 
guish sheep  and  goats  by  their  real  essences,  that  are  unknown 
to  him,  may  be  pleased  to  try  his  skill  in  those  species,  called 
cassiowary  and  querechinchio ;  and  by  their  internal  real 
essences  determine  the  boundaries  of  those  species,  without 
knowing  the  complex  idea  of  sensible  qualities,  that  each  of 
those  names  stand  for,  in  the  countries  where  those  animals  ar>* 
to  be  found. 

§   10.    NOT  SUBSTANTIAL  FORMS,  WHICH  WE  KNOW  Li 

Those  therefore  who  have  been  taught,  that  the  several  specie.- 
of  substances  had  their  distinct  internal  substantial  forms  ;  and 
that  it  was  those  forms  which  made  the  distinction  of  substances 
into  their  true  species  and  genera  ;  were  led  yet  farther  out  of 
the  way,  by  having  their  minds  set  upon  fruitless  inquiries  after 
substantial  forms,  wholly  unintelligible,  and  whereof  we  have 
scarce  so  much  as  any  obscure  or  confused  conception  in 
general. 

(1.    THAT  THE  NOMINAL  ESSENCE  IS  THAT  WHEREBY  WE  DISTING1 
SPECIES   FARTHER   EVIDENT  FROM  SPIRITS. 

That  our  ranking  and  distinguishing  natural  substances  in 
species,  consists  in  the  ndminal  essences  the  mind  makes,  and 
not  in  the  real  essences  to  be  found  in  the  things  themselves,  is 
farther  evident  from  our  ideas  of  spirits.  For  the  mind  getting, 
only  by  reflecting  on  its  own  operations,  those  simple  ideas  which 
it  attributes  to  spirits,  it  hath,  or  can  have  no  other  notion  of 
spirit,  but  by  attributing  all  those  operations,  it  finds  in  itself,  to 
a  soil  of  beings,  without  consideration  of  matter.  And  even  th. 
mosl    advanced   notion  i  e   have  of  God   ;';  I":'  attributing  lh< 


41U  NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCES.  [ BOOK  III". 

same  simple  ideas  which  we  have  got  from  reflection  on  what  we 
tind  in  ourselves,  and  which  we  conceive  to  have  more  perfec- 
tion in  them,  than  would  he  in  their  absence  ;  attributing,  I  say, 
those  simple  ideas  to  him  in  an  unlimited  degree.  Thus  having 
got,  from  reflecting  on  ourselves,  the  idea  of  existence,  know- 
ledge, power,  and  pleasure,  each  of  which  we  find  it  better  to 
have  than  to  want ;  and  the  more  we  have  of  each  the  better  : 
joining  all  these  together,  with  infinity  to  each  of  them,  we  have 
the  complex  idea  of  an  eternal,  omniscient,  omnipotent,  infinitely 
wise  and  happy  Being.  And  though  we  are  told,  that  there  are 
difFerent  species  of  angels;  yet  we  know  not  how  to  frame  distinct 
specific  ideas  of  them  :  not  out  of  any  conceit  that  the  existence 
of  more  species  than  one  of  spirits  is  impossible,  but  because 
having  no  more  simple  ideas  nor  being  able  to  frame  more) 
applicable  to  such  beings,  but  only  those  few  taken  from  our- 
selves, and  from  the  actions  of  our  own  minds  in  thinking,  and 
being  delighted,  and  moving  several  parts  of  our  bodies,  we  can 
no  otherwise  distinguish  in  our  conceptions  the  several  species  of 
spirits  one  from  another,  but  by  attributing  those  operations  and 
powers,  we  find  in  ourselves,  to  them  in  a  higher  or  lower  degree ; 
and  so  have  no  very  distinct  specific  ideas  of  spirits,  except  only 
of  God,  to  whom  we  attribute  both  duration,  and  all  those  other 
ideas  with  infinity ;  to  the  other  spirits,  with  limitation.  Nor  as 
I  humbly  conceive  do  we,  between  God  and  them  in  our  ideas, 
put  any  difference  by  any  number  of  simple  ideas,  which  we 
have  of  one  and  not  of  the  other,  but  only  that  of  infinity.  All 
the  particular  ideas  of  existence,  knowledge,  will,  power,  and 
motion,  &c.  being  ideas  derived  from  the  operations  of  our  minds, 
we  attribute  all  of  them  to  all  sorts  of  spirits,  with  the  difference 
only  of  degrees,  to  the  utmost  we  can  imagine,  even  infinity, 
when  we  would  frame,  as  well  as  we  can,  an  idea  of  the  first 
being ;  who  yet,  it  is  certain,  is  infinitely  more  remote,  in  the 
real  excellency  of  his  nature,  from  the  highest  and  perfectest  of 
all  created  beings,  than  the  greatest  man,  nay  purest  seraph,  is 
from  the  most  contemptible  part  of  matter ;  and  consequently 
must  infinitely  exceed  what  our  narrow  understandings  can  con- 
ceive of  him. 

§  12.    WHEREOF  THERE  ARE  PROBABLY  JTUMBERLESS  SPECIES. 

It  is  not  impossible  to  conceive,  nor  repugnant  to  reason,  that 
there  may  be  many  species  of  spirits,  as  much  separated  and  di- 
versified one  from  another  by  distinct  properties  whereof  we 
have  no  ideas,  as  the  species  of  sensible  things  are  distinguished 
one  from  another  by  qualities  which  we  know  and  observe  in 
them.  That  there  should  be  more  species  of  intelligent  crea- 
tures above  us,  than  there  are  of  sensible  and  material  below  us, 
is  probable  to  me  from  hence  ;  that  in  all  the  visible,  corporeal 
world,  we  see  no  chasms  or  gaps.  All  quite  down  from  us  the 
descent  is  by  easy  steps,  and  a  continued  series  of  things-,  that  in 


CH.  VI. j  "NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCES.  417 

each  remove  differ  very  little  one  from  the  oilier.  There  are 
fishes  that  have  wings,  and  are  not  strangers  to  the  airy  region  ; 
and  there  are  some  birds  that  are  inhabitants  of  the  water,  whose 
blood  is  cold  as  fishes,  and  their  flesh  so  like  in  taste,  that  the 
scrupulous  are  allowed  them  on  tish-days.  There  are  animals 
so  near  of  kin  both  to  birds  and  beasts,  that  they  are  in  the 
middle  between  both :  amphibious  animals  link  the  terrestrial  and 
aquatic  together  ;  seals  live  at  land  and  sea,  and  porpoises  have 
the  warm  blood  and  entrails  of  a  hog,  not  to  mention  what  is 
confidently  reported  of  mermaids  or  sea-men.  There  are  some 
brutes,  that  seem  to  have  as  much  knowledge  and  reason  as  some 
that  are  called  men  ;  and  the  animal  and  vegetable  "kingdoms 
are  so  nearly  joined,  that  if  you  will  take  the  lowest  of  one,  and 
the  highest  of  the  other,  there  ^.will  scarce  be  perceived  any 
great  difference  between  them  ;  and  so  on,  till  we  come  to  the 
lowest  and  the  most  inorganical  parts  of  matter,  we  shall  find 
every  where,  that  the  several  species  are  linked  together,  and 
differ  but  in  almost  insensible  degrees.  And  when  we  consider  the 
infinite  power  and  wisdom  of  the  Maker,  we  have  reason  to 
think,  that  it  is  suitable  to  the  magnificent  harmony  of  the  uni- 
verse, and  the  great  design  and  infinite  goodness  of  the  Architect, 
that  the  species  of  creatures  should  also,  by  gentle  degrees, 
ascend  upward  from  us  toward  his  infinite  perfection,  as  we  see 
they  gradually  descend  from  us  downward  :  which  if  it  be  pro- 
bable, we  have  reason  then  to  be  persuaded,  that  there  are  far 
more  species  of  creatures  above  us  than  there  are  beneath :  we 
being,  in  degrees  of  perfection,  much  more  remote  from  the  infi- 
nite being  of  God,  than  we  are  from  the  lowest  state  of  being, 
and  that  which  approaches  neareat  to  nothing.  And  yet  of  all 
those  distinct  species,  for  the  reasons  above  said,  we  have  no 
clear  distinct  ideas. 

§   13.    THE  NOMINAL  ESSENCE  THAT  OF  THE  SPECIES,  TROVED  FROM 
WATER  AND  ICE. 

But  to  return  to  the  species  of  corporeal  substances.  If  I 
should  ask  any  one,  whether  ice  and  water  were  two  distinct 
species  of  things,  I  doubt  not  but  I  should  be  answered  in  the 
affirmative  :  and  it  cannot  be  denied,  but  he  that  says  they  are 
two  distinct  species  is  in  the  right.  But  if  an  Englishman,  bred 
in  Jamaica,  who  perhaps  had  never  seen  or  heard  of  ice,  coming 
into  England  in  the  winter,  find  the  water  he  put  in  his  basin  at 
night,  in  a  great  part  frozen  in  the  morning,  and  not  knowing  any 
peculiar  name  it  had,  should  call  it  hardened  water ;  1  ask, 
whether  this  would  not  be  a  new  species  to  him  different  from 
water  ?  And,  I  think,  it  would  be  answered  here,  it  would  not 
be  to  him  a  new  species,  no  more  than  congealed  jelly,  when  it  is 
eold,  is  a  distinct  species  from  the  same  jelly  fluid  and  warm  ;  or 
than  liquid  gold  in  the  furnace  is  a  distinct  species  from  hard 
gold  in  the  hands  of  a  workman.     And  if  this  be  so,  it  is  plain. 

1     '  .  I-  53 


418  NAMES  OP  SUBSTANCES.  [BOOK  til. 

that  our  distinct  species  are  nothing  but  distinct  complex  ideas, 
with  distinct  names  annexed  to  them.  It  is  true,  every  substance 
that  exists,  has  its  peculiar  constitution,  whereon  depend  those 
sensible  qualities  and  powers  we  observe  in  it ;  but  the  ranking 
of  things  into  species,  which  is  nothing  but  sorting  them  under 
several  titles,  is  done  by  us  according  to  the  ideas  we  have  of 
them  :  which  though  sufficient  to  distinguish  them  by  names,  so 
that  we  may  be  able  to  discourse  of  them,  when  we  have  them 
not  present  before  us ;  yet  if  we  suppose  it  to  be  done  by  their 
real  internal  constitutions,  and  that  things  existing  are  distin- 
guished by  nature  into  species,  by  real  essences,  according  as  we 
distinguish  them  into  species  by  names,  we,  shall  be  liable  to 
great  mistakes. 

§  14.    DIFFICULTIES  AGAINST  A  CERTAIN  NUMBER  OF  REAL  ESSENCES. 

To  distinguish  substantial  beings  into  species,  according  to  the 
usual  supposition,  that  there  are  certain  precise  essences  or  forms 
of  things,  whereby  all  the  individuals  existing  are  by  nature  dis- 
tinguished into  species,  these  things  are  necessary. 

§  15. 
First,  To  be  assured  that  nature,  in  the  production  of  things., 
always  designs  them  to  partake  of  certain  regulated  established 
essences,  which  are  to  be  the  models  of  all  things  to  be  produced. 
This,  in  that  crude  sense  it  is  usually  proposed,  would  need  some 
belter  explication  before  it  can  be  wholly  assented  to. 

§16. 

Secondly,  It  would  be  necessary  to  know  whether  nature 
always  attains  that  essence  it  designs  in  the  production  of  things. 
The  irregular  and  monstrous  births,  that  in  divers  sorts  of  animals 
have  been  observed,  will  always  give  us  reason  to  doubt  of  one 
or  both  of  these. 

§17. 
Thirdly,  It  ought  to  be  determined  whether  those  we  call 
monsters  be  really  a  distinct  species,  according  to  the  scholastic 
notion  of  the  word  species  ;  since  it  is  certain  that  every  thing 
fhat  exists  has  its  particular  constitution  :  and  yet  we  find  that 
some  of  these  monstrous  productions  have  few  or  none  of  those 
qualities,  which  are  supposed  to  result  from,  and  accompany  the 
essence  of  that  species,  from  whence  they  derive  their  originals, 
and  to  which,  by  their  descent,  they  seem  to  belong. 

§  18.    OUR  NOMINAL  ESSENCES  OF  SUBSTANCES  NOT  PERFECT  COL- 
LECTIONS OF  PROPERTIES. 

Fourthly,  The  real  essences  of  those  things,  which  we  distin- 
guish into  species,  and  as  so  distinguished  we  name,  ought  to  bo 
known  :  ?,  e.  we  ought  to  have  ideas  of  them.     But  since  w* 


AM.  Vl/j  NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCES.  419 

ignorant  in  these  four  points,  the  supposed  real  essences  of 
things  stand  us  not  in  stead  for  the  distinguishing  substances  into 
species. 

§  19. 
Fifthly,  The  only  imaginable  help  in  this  case  would  be,  that 
having  framed  perfect  complex  ideas  of  the  properties  of  things, 
flowing  from  their  different  real  essences,  we  should  thereby 
distinguish  them  into  species.  But  neither  can  this  be  done  ;  for 
being  ignorant  of  the  real  essence  itself,  it  is  impossible  to  know 
iill  those  properties  that  flow  from  it,  and  are  so  annexed  to  it, 
that  any  one  of  them  being  away,  we  may  certainly  conclude, 
that  that  essence  is  not  there,  and  so  the  thing  is  not  of  that  spe- 
cies. We  can  never  know  what  are  the  precise  number  of  pro- 
perties depending  on  the  real  essence  of  gold,  any  one  of  which 
I'ailing,  the  real  essence  of  gold,  and  consequently  gold,  would  not 
be  there,  unless  we  knew  the  real  essence  of  gold  itself,  and  by 
that  determined  that  species.  By  the  word  gold  here,  I  must  be 
understood  to  design  a  particular  piece  of  matter  ;  v.  g.  the  last 
guinea  that  was  coined.  For  if  it  should  stand  here  in  its 
ordinary  signification  for  that  complex  idea,  which  I  or  any 
one  else  calls  gold  ;  i.  e.  for  the  nominal  essence  of  gold,  it 
would  be  jargon  :  so  hard  is  it  to  show  the  various  meaning  and 
imperfection  of  words,  when  we  have  nothing  else  but  words  to 
xlo  it  by. 

§20. 
By  all  which  it  is  clear,  that  our  distinguishing  substances  into 
species  by  names,  is  not  at  all  founded  on  their  real  essences  ;  nor 
can  we  pretend  to  range  and  determine  them  exactly  into  species^ 
according  to  the  internal  essential  differences. 

§  21.    BUT    SUCH  A  COLLECTION  AS  OUR  NAME  STANDS  FOR. 

But  since,  as  has  been  remarked,  we  have  need  of  general 
words,  though  we  know  not  the  real  essences  of  things  ;  all  we 
can  do  is  to  collect  such  a  number  of  simple  ideas,  as  by  exami- 
nation we  find  to  be  united  together  in  things  existing,  and  thereof 
io  make  one  complex  idea  :  which,  though  it  be  not  the  real 
essence  of  any  substance  that  exists,  is  yet  the  specific  essence 
to  which  our  name  belongs,  and  is  convertible  with  it ;  by  which 
we  may  at  least  try  the  truth  of  these  nominal  essences.  For 
example,  there  be  that  say,  that  the  essence  of  body  is  extension  : 
if  it  be  so,  we  can  never  mistake  in  putting  the  essence  of  any 
thing  for  the  thing  itself.  Let  us  then  in  discourse  put  extension 
for  body  ;  and  when  we  would  say  that  body  moves,  let  us  say 
that  extension  moves,  and  sec  how  ill  it  will  look.  He  that 
should  say  that  one  extension  by  impulse  moves  another  exten- 
sion, would,  by  the  bare  expression,  sufficiently  show  the  absur- 
dity of  such  a  notion.    The  essence  of  any  thing,  in  respect  of 


420  NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCES.  [BOOK  III. 

lis,  is  the  whole  complex  idea,  comprehended  and  marked  by 
that  name  ;  and  in  substances,  besides  the  several  distinct  simple 
ideas  that  make  them  up,  the  confused  one  of  substance,  or  of  an 
unknown  support  and  cause  of  their  union,  is  always  a  part :  and 
therefore  the  essence  of  body  is  not  bare  extension,  but  an 
extended  solid  thing ;  and  so  to  say  an  extended  solid  thing 
moves,  or  impels  another,  is  all  one,  and  as  intelligible  as  to  say, 
body  moves  or  impels.  Likewise  to  say,  that  a  rational  animal 
is  capable  of  conversation,  is  all  one  as  to  say  a  man.  But 
no  one  will  say,  that  rationality  is  capable  of  conversation, 
because  it  makes  not  the  whole  essence  to  which  we  give  the 
name  man. 

§  22.      OUR    ABSTRACT  IDEAS    ARE  TO    US  THE    MEASURES    (ft  SPECIES  j 
INSTANCE  IN  THAT    OF  MAN.  # 

There  are  creatures  in  the  world  that  have  shapes  like  ours, 
but  are  hairy,  and  want  language  and  reason.  There  are  natu- 
rals among  us  that  have  perfectly  our  shape,  but  want  reason, 
and  some  of  them  language  too.  There  are  creatures,  it  is  said 
("sit  fides  penes  auctorem,"  but  there  appears  no  contradiction 
that  there  should  be  such)  that,  with  language  and  reason,  and  a 
shape  in  other  things  agreeing  with  ours,  have  hairy  tails ;  others 
where  the  males  have  no  beards,  and  others  where  the  females 
have.  If  it  be  asked,  whether  these  be  all  men  or  no,  all  of 
human  species  ?  it  is  plain,  the  question  refers  only  to  the  nomi- 
nal essence  :  for  those  of  them  to  whom  the  definition  of  the 
word  man,  or  the  complex  idea  signified  by  that  name,  agrees, 
are  men,  and  the  other  not.  But  if  the  inquiry  be  made  con- 
cerning the  supposed  real  essence,  and  whether  the  internal  con- 
stitution and  frame  of  these  several  creatures  be  specifically  dif- 
ferent, it  is  wholly  impossible  for  us  to  answer,  no  part  of  that 
going  into  our  specific  idea  ;  only  we  have  reason  to  think,  that 
where  the  faculties  or  outward  frame  so  much  differs,  the  inter- 
nal constitution  is  not  exactly  the  same.  But  what  difference 
in  the  internal  real  constitution  makes  a  specific  difference,  it 
is  in  vain  to  inquire ;  whilst  our  measures  of  species  be,  as 
they  are,  only  our  abstract  ideas,  which  we  know ;  and  not 
that  internal  constitution,  which  makes  no  part  of  them.  Shall 
the  difference  of  hair  only  on  the  skin,  be  a  mark  of  a  different 
internal  specific  constitution  between  a  changeling  and  a  drill, 
when  they  agree  in  shape,  and  want  of  reason  and  speech  ?  And 
shall  not  the  want  of  reason  and  speech  be  a  sign  to  us  of  dif- 
ferent real  constitutions  and  species  between  a  changeling  and  a 
reasonable  man  ?  And  so  of  the  rest,  if  we  pretend  that  the  dis- 
tinction of  species  or  sorts  is  fixedly  established  by  the  real 
frame  and  secret  constitutions  of  things. 

§  23.    SPECIES  NOT    DISTINGUISHED    BY  GENERATION. 

Nor  let  any  one  say,  that  the  power  of  propagation  in  animals 
by  the  mixture  of  male  and  female,  and  in  plants  by  seeds,  keeps 


CH.  VI. j  NAMES   OF    SUBSTANCE-.  421 

the  supposed  real  species  distinct  and  pntirc.  For  granting  this  • 
to  be  true,  it  would  help  us  in  the  distinction  of  the  species  of 
things  no  farther  than  (he  tribes  of  animals  and  vegetable.-. 
What  must  we  do  for  the  rest  1  But  in  those  too  it  is  not  suffi- 
cient: for  if  history  lie  not,  women  have  conceived  by  drills  •, 
and  what  real  species,  by  that  measure,  such  a  production  will 
be  in  nature,  will  be  a  new  question  :  and  we  have  reason  to 
think  this  is  not  impossible,  since  mules  and  jumarts,  the  one 
from  the  mixture  of  an  ass  and  a  mare,  and  the  other  from  the  mix- 
ture of  a  bull  and  a  mare,  are  so  frequent  in  the  world.  I  once 
saw  a  creature  that  was  the  issue  of  a  cat  and  a  rat,  and  had  the 
plain  marks  of  both  about  it ;  wherein  nature  appeared  to  have 
followed  the  pattern  of  neither  sort  alone,  but  to  have  jumbled 
them  both  together.  To  which,  he  that  shall  add  the  monstrous 
productions  that  are  so  frequently  to  be  met  with  in  nature,  will 
find  it  hard  even  in  the  race  of  animals,  to  determine  by  the 
pedigree  of  what  species  every  animal's  issue  is  :  and  be  at  a  loss 
about  the  real  essence,  which  he  thinks  certainly  conveyed  by 
generation,  and  has  alone  a  right  to  the  specific  name.  But  far- 
ther, if  the  species  of  animals  and  plants  are  to  be  distinguished 
only  by  propagation,  must  I  go  to  the  Indies  to  see  the  sire  and 
dam  of  the  one,  and  the  plant  from  which  the  seed  was  gathered 
that  produced  the  other,  to  know  whether  this  be  a  tiger  or  that 

tea  ? 

§  24.    NOT   BY  SUBSTANTIAL  FORMS. 

Upon  the  whole  matter,  it  is  evident,  that  it  is  their  own  col- 
lections of  sensible  qualities,  that  men  make  the  essences  of  their 
several  sorts  of  substances  ;  and  that  their  real  internal  structures 
are  not  considered  by  the  greatest  part  of  men,  in  the  sorting  of 
them.  Much  less  were  any  substantial  forms  ever  thought  on 
by  any,  but  those  who  have  in  this  one  part  of  the  world  learned 
the  language  of  the  schools  :  and  yet  those  ignorant  men,  who 
pretend  not  any  insight  into  the  real  essences,  nor  trouble  them- 
selves about  substantial  forms,  but  are  content  with  knowing 
things  one  from  another  by  their  sensible  qualities,  are  often 
better  acquainted  with  their  differences,  can  more  nicely  distin- 
guish them  from  their  uses,  and  better  know  what  they  may  expect 
irom  each,  than  those  learned  quick-sighted  men,  who  look  so 
deep  into  them,  and  talk  so  confidently  of  something  more  hidden 
and  essential. 

§  25.    THE  SFECIFIC  ESSENCES  AUK  MATH".  BY  THE  MIND. 

But  supposing  that  the  real  essences  of  substances  were  disco- 
verable by  those  that  would  severely  apply  themselves  to  thai 
inquiry,  yet  we  could  not  reasonably  think,  that  the  ranking  of 
things  under  general  names  was  regulated  by  those  internal  real 
constitutions,  or  any  thing  else  but  their  obvious  appearances  : 
since  languages,  in  a!)  countries,  have  been  established  long  before 


422  NAMES  OF  SUBSTAPfCES.  TbOOK  III. 

sciences.  So  that  they  have  not  been  philosophers,  or  logicians, 
or  such  who  have  troubled  themselves  about  forms  and  essences, 
that  have  made  the  general  names  that  are  in  use  among  the 
several  nations  of  men  :  but  those  more  or  less  comprehensive 
terms  have  for  the  most  part,  in  all  languages,  received  their 
birth  and  signification  from  ignorant  and  illiterate  people,  who 
sorted  and  denominated  things  by  those  sensible  qualities  they 
found  in  them  ;  thereby  to  signify  them,  when  absent,  to  others, 
whether  they  had  an  occasion  to  mention  a  sort  or  a  particular 
thing. 

§  26.    THEREFORE  VERY  VARIOUS  AND  UNCERTAIN. 

Since  then  it  is  evident,  that  we  sort  and  name  substances  by 
their  nominal,  and  not  by  their  real  essences  ;  the  next  thing  to 
be  considered  is,  how  and  by  whom  these  essences  come  to  be 
made.  As  to  the  latter,  it  is  evident  they  are  made  by  the  mind, 
and  not  by  nature  :  for  were  they  nature's  workmanship,  they 
could  not  be  so  various  and  different  in  several  men,  a  s  expe- 
rience tells  us  they  are.  For  if  we  will  examine  it,  we  shall  not 
find  the  nominal  essence  of  any  one  species  of  substances  in  all 
men  the  same  :  no,  not  of  that,  which  of  all  others  we  are  the 
most  intimately  acquainted  with.  It  could  not  possibly  be,  that 
the  abstract  idea  to  which  the  name  man  is  given,  should  be  dif- 
ferent in  several  men,  if  it  were  of  nature's  making  ;  and  that  to 
one  it  should  be  "  animal  rationale,"  and  to  another  "  animal 
implume  bipes  latis  unguibus."  He  that  annexes  the  name  man 
to  a  complex  idea  made  up  of  sense  and  spontaneous  motion, 
joined  to  a  body  of  such  a  shape,  has  thereby  one  essence  of  the 
species  man,  and  he  that,  upon  further  examination,  adds  ration- 
ality, has  another  essence  of  the  species  he  calls  man  :  by  which 
means  the  same  individual  will  be  a  true  man  to  the  one,  which 
is  not  so  to  the  other.  I  think,  there  is  scarce  any  one  will  allow 
this  upright  figure,  so  well  known,  to  be  the  essential  difference 
of  the  species  man  ;  and  yet  how  far  men  determine  of  the  sorts 
of  animals  rather  by  their  shape  than  descent,  is  very  visible  : 
since  it  has  been  more  than  once  debated,  whether  several  human 
foetuses  should  be  preserved  or  received  to  baptism  or  no,  only 
because  of  the  difference  of  their  outward  configuration  from  the 
ordinary  make  of  children,  without  knowing  whether  they  were 
not  as  capable  of  reason  as  infants  cast  in  another  mould  :  some 
whereof,  though  of  an  approved  shape,  are  never  capable  of  as 
much  appearance  of  reason  all  their  lives  as  is  to  be  found  in  an 
ape  or  an  elephant,  and  never  give  any  signs  of  being  acted  by  a 
rational  soul.  Whereby  it  is  evident,  that  the  outward  figure, 
which  only  was  found  wanting,  and  not  the  faculty  of  reason, 
which  nobody  could  know  would  be  wanting  in  its  due  season, 
was  made  essential  to  the  human  species.  The  learned  divine 
or  lawyer  must,  on  such  occasions,  renounce  his  sacred  defini- 
tion of  "  animal  rationale,"  and  substitute  some  other  essence  of 


CH.  V!.j  NAMES    OF    SUBSTANCES.  433 

the  human  species.  Monsieur  Menage  furnishes  us  with  au 
example  worth  the  taking  notice  of  on  this  occasion  :  "  When 
the  abbot  of  St.  Martin  (says  he)  was  born,  he  had  so  little  of  the 
figure  of  a  man,  that  it  bespake  him  rather  a  monster.  It  wa-; 
for  some  time  under  deliberation,  whether  he  should  be  baptized 
or  no.  However,  he  was  baptized  and  declared  a  man  provision- 
ally [till  time  should  show  what  he  would  prove.]  Nature  had 
moulded  him  so  untowardly,  that  he  was  called  all  his  life  the 
Abbot  Malotru,  z.  e.  ill-shaped.  He  was  of  Caen."  Mcnagiana. 
||f.  This  child,  we  see,  was  very  near  being  excluded  out  of 
the  species  of  man,  barely  by  his  shape.  He  escaped  very  nar- 
rowly as  he  was,  and  it  is  certain  a  figure  a  little  more  oddlv 
turned  had  cast  him,  and  he  had  been  executed  as  a  thing  not 
to  be  allowed  to  pass  for  a  man.  And  yet  there  can  be  no  reason 
given,  why  if  the  lineaments  of  his  face  had  been  a  little  altered^ 
a  rational  soul  could  not  have  been  lodged  in  him  ;  why  a  visage 
somewhat  longer,  or  a  nose  flatter,  or  a  wider  mouth,  could  not 
have  consisted,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  his  ill  figure,  with  such  a 
soul,  such  parts,  as  made  him,  disfigured  as  he  was,  capable  to  be 
a  dignitary  in  the  church. 

§27. 

•  Wherein,  then,  would  I  gladly  know,  consist  the  precise  and 
immoveable  boundaries  of  that  species  ?  It  is  plain,  if  we  examine, 
there  is  no  such  thing  made  by  nature,  and  established  by  her 
among  men.  The  real  essence  of  that,  or  any  other  sort  of  sub- 
stances, it  is  evident  we  know  not ;  and  therefore  are  so  unde- 
termined in  our  nominal  essences,  which  we  make  ourselves,  that 
if  several  men  were  to  be  asked  concerning  some  oddly-shaped 
fostus,  as  soon  as  born,  whether  it  were  a  man  or  no,  it  is  past 
doubt,  one  should  meet  with  different  answers  :  which  could  noi 
happen,  if  the  nominal  essences,  whereby  we  limit  and  distinguish 
the  species  of  substances,  were  not  made  by  man  with  some 
liberty,  but  were  exactly  copied  from  precise  boundaries  set  by 
nature,  whereby  it  distinguished  all  substances  into  certain  spe- 
cies. Who  would  undertake  to  resolve  what  species  that  monster 
was  of,  which  is  mentioned  by  Licetus,  lib.  i.  c.  3.  with  a  man's 
head  and  hog's  body  ?  or  those  other,  which  to  the  bodies  of  men 
had  the  heads  of  beasts,  as  dogs,  horses,  &c.?  If  any  of  these 
•'features  had  lived,  and  could  have  spoke,  it  would  have  increased 
the  difficulty.  Had  the  upper  part  to  the  middle  been  of  human 
shape,  and  all  below  swine  ;  had  it  been  murder  to  destroy  it  ' 
Or  must  the  bishop  have  been  consulted,  whether  it  were  man 
enough  to  be  admitted  to  the  font  or  no  ?  as,  I  have  been  told,  it 
happened  in  France  some  years  since,  in  somewhat  a  like  case. 
So  uncertain  are  the  boundaries  of  species  of  animals  to  us,  who 
Lave  no  other  measures  than  the  complex  ideas  of  our  own  col- 
lecting :  and  so  far  are  we  from  certainly  knowing  what  a  man 
is ;  thi  haps,  ;'  will  :  to  make 


4:24  NAiffiS   OF   SUBbTAiVGES.  [BOOK  III. 

any  doubt  about  it.  And  yet,  I  think,  I  may  say,  that  the  certain 
boundaries  of  that  species  are  so  far  from  being  determined,  and 
the  precise  number  of  simple  ideas,  which  make  the  nominal 
essence,  so  far  from  being  settled  and  perfectly  known,  that  very 
material  doubts  may  still  arise  about  it.  And  I  imagine,  none  of 
the  definitions  of  the  word  man,  which  we  yet  have,  nor  descrip- 
tions of  that  sort  of  animal,  are  so  perfect  and  exact,  as  to  satisfy 
a  considerate  inquisitive  person;  much  less  to  obtain  a  general 
consent,  and  to  be  that  which  men  would  every  where  stick  by, 
in  the  decision  of  cases,  and  determining  of  life  and  death,  baptism 
or  no  baptism,  in  productions  that  might  happen. 

§  28    BUT  NOT  SO  ARBITRARY  AS    MIXED    JIODES. 

But  though  these  nominal  essences  of  substances  are  made  by 
the  mind,  they  are  not  yet  made  so  arbitrarily  as  those  of  mixed 
modes.  To  the  making  of  any  nominal  essence,  it  is  necessary* 
Firs*,,  that  the  ideas  whereof  it  consists  have  such  a  union  as  to 
make  but  one  idea,  how  compounded  soever ;  secondly,  that  the 
particular  idea  so  united  be  exactly  the  same,  neither  more  nor 
less.  For  if  two  abstract  complex  ideas  differ  either  in  number 
or  sorts  of  their  component  parts,  they  make  two  different,  and 
not  one  and  the  same  essence.  In  the  first  of  these,  the  mind,  in 
making  its  complex  ideas  of  substances,  only  follows  nature,  and 
puts  none  together  which  are  not  supposed  to  have  a  union  in 
nature.  Nobody  joins  the  voice  of  a  sheep  with  the  shape  of  a 
horse,  nor  the  colour  of  lead  with  the  weight  and  fixedness  of 
gold,  to  be  the  complex  ideas  of  any  real  substances  ;  unless  he 
has  a  mind  to  fill  his  head  with  chimeras,  and  his  discourse  with 
unintelligible  words.  Men  observing  certain  qualities  always 
joined  and  existing  together,  therein  copied  nature  ;  and  of  ideas 
so  united,  made  their  complex  ones  of  substances.  For  though 
men  may  make  what  complex  ideas  they  please,  and  give  what 
names  to  them  they  will ;  yet  if  they  will  be  understood,  when 
they  speak  of  things  really  existing,  they  must  in  some  degree 
conform  their  ideas  to  the  things  they  would  speak  of;  or  else 
men's  language  will  be  like  that  of  Babel ;  and  every  man's 
words  being  intelligible  only  to  himself,  would  no  longer  serve 
to  conversation,  and  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life,  if  the  ideas  they 
stand  for  be  not  some  way  answering  the  common  appearances 
and  agreement  of  substances,  as  they  really  exist. 

§  29.    THOUGH    VERY    IMPERFECT. 

Secondly,  though  the  mind  of  man,  in  making  its  complex 
ideas  of  substances,  never  puts  any  together  that  do  not  really 
or  are  not  supposed  to  coexist ;  and  so  it  truly  borrows  that  union 
from  nature — yet  the  number  it  combines  depends  upon  the  va- 
rious care,  industry,  or  fancy  of  him  that  makes  it.  Men  gene- 
rally content  themselves  with  some  few  sensible  obvious  quali- 
ties :  and  often,  if  not  always,  leave  out  others  as  material,  and 


CH.  VI. J  YA.UEs    OF    SUBSTANCES. 

as  firmly  united,  as  those  that  they  take.  Of  sensible  -substances 
there  are  two  sorts ;  one  of  organized  bodies,  which  are  propa- 
gated by  seed  ;  and  in  these,  the  shape  is  that  which  to  us  is  the 
leading  quality  and  most  characteristical  part  that  determines  the 
species  :  and  therefore  in  vegetables  and  animals,  an  extended 
solid  substance  of  such  a  certain  figure  usually  iserves  the  turn. 
For  however  some  men  seem  to  prize  their  definition  of  "  animal 
rationale,"  yet  should  there  a  creatine  be  found,  that  had  lan- 
guage and  reason,  but  partook  not  of  the  usual  shape  of  a  man,  I 
believe  it  would  hardly  pass  for  a  man,  how  much  soever  it  were 
u  animal  rationale."  And  if  Balaam's  ass  had,  all  his  life,  dis- 
coursed as  rationally  as  he  did  once  with  his  master,  I  doubt  yet 
whether  any  one  would  have  thought  him  worthy  the  name  man. 
or  allowed  him  to  be  of  the  same  species  with  himself.  As  in 
vegetables  and  animals,  it  is  the  shape,  so  in  most  other  bodies. 
not  propagated  by  seed,  it  is  the  colour  we  must  fix  on,  and  are 
most  led  by.  Thus  where  we  find  the  colour  of  gold,  we  are 
apt  to  imagine  all  the  other  qualities,  comprehended  in  our  com- 
plex idea,  to  be  there  also :  and  we  commonly  take  these  two 
obvious  qualities,  viz.  shape  and  colour,  for  so  presumptive  ideas 
of  several  species,  that  in  a  good  picture  we  readily  say  this  is  a 
lion,  and  that  a  rose  ;  this  is  a  gold,  and  that  a  silver  goblet,  only 
by  the  different  figures  and  colours  represented  to  the  eye  by  the 
pencil. 

§  30.  WHICH  YET  SERVE  FOR  COMMON"  CONVERSE. 

But  though  this  serves  well  enough  for  gross  and  confused  con- 
ceptions, and  inaccurate  ways  of  talking  and  thinking;  yet 
men  are  far  enough  from  having  agreed  on  the  precise  number 
of  simple  ideas,  or  qualities,  belonging  to  any  sort  of  things, 
signified  by  its  name.  Nor  is  it  a  wonder,  since  it  requires  much 
time,  pains,  and  skill,  strict  inquiry,  and  long  examination,  to 
find  out  what  and  how  many  those  simple  ideas  are,  which  are 
constantly  and  inseparably  united  in  nature,  and  are  always  to  be 
found  together  in  the  same  subject.  Most  men,  wanting  either 
time,  inclination,  or  industry  enough  for  this,  even  to  some  tole- 
rable degree,  content  themselves  with  some  few  obvious  and 
•  mtward  appearances  of  things,  thereby  readily  to  distinguish  and 
sort  them  for  the  common  affairs  of  life  ;  and  so,  without  farther 
examination,  give  them  names,  or  take  up  the  names  already  in 
use  :  which,  though  in  common  conversation  they  pass  well 
enough  for  the  signs  of  some  few  obvious  qualities  coexist- 
ing, are  yet  far  enough  from  comprehending,  in  a  settled  sig- 
nification, a  precise  number  of  simple  ideas  ;  much  less  all  those 
which  are  united  in  nature.  He  that  shall  consider,  after  so  much 
stir  about  genus  and  species,  and  such  a  deal  of  talkof  specific  dif- 
ferences, how  few  words  we  have  yet  settled  definitions  of,  may 
with  reason  imagine  that  those  forms,  which  there  hath  been 
so  much  noise  made  about,  are  only  chimeras,  which  give  us  ncf 

Vol.  I. 


42G  NAJIES  OF  SUBSTANCES.  [BOOK  III. 

light  into  the  specific  natures  of  things.  And  he  that  shall  consider 
how  far  the  names  of  substances  are  from  having  significations, 
wherein  all  who  use  them  do  agree,  will  have  reason  to  con- 
clude, that  though  the  nominal  essences  of  substances  are  all 
supposed  to  be  copied  from  nature,  yet  they  are  all,  or  most  of 
thern,  very  imperfect ;  since  the  composition  of  those  complex 
ideas  are,  in  several  men,  very  different ;  and  therefore  that  these 
boundaries  of  species  are  as  men,  and  not  as  nature  makes  them, 
if  at  least  there  are  in  nature  any  such  prefixed  bounds.  It  is 
true  that  many  particular  substances  are  so  made  by  nature,  that 
they  have  agreement  and  likeness  one  with  another,  and  so  afford 
a  foundation  of  being  ranked  into  sorts.  But  the  sorting  of 
things  by  us,  or  the  making  of  determinate  species,  being  in  order 
to  naming  and  comprehending  them  under  general  terms  ;  I 
cannot  see  how  it  can  be  properly  said,  that  nature  sets  the 
boundaries  of  the  species  of  things  :  or  if  it  be  so,  our  bounda- 
ries of  species  are  not  exactly  conformable  to  those  in  nature. 
For  we  having  need  of  general  names  for  present  use,  stay  not 
for  a  perfect  discovery  of  all  those  qualities  which  would  best 
show  us  their  most  material  differences  and  agreements  ;  but  we 
ourselves  divide  them,  by  certain  obvious  appearances,  into 
species,  that  we  may  the  easier  under  general  names  communi- 
cate our  thoughts  about  them.  For  having  no  other  knowledge 
of  any  substance,  but  of  the  simple  ideas  that  are  united  in  it ; 
and  observing  several  particular  things  to  agree  with  others  in 
several  of  those  simple  ideas  ;  we  make  that  collection  our  spe- 
cific idea,  and  give  it  a  general  name  ;  that  in  recording  our  own 
thoughts,  and  in  our  discourse  with  others,  we  may  in  one  short 
word  design  ail  the  individuals  that  agree  in  that  complex  idea, 
without  enumerating  the  simple  ideas  that  make  it  up  ;  and  so 
not  waste  our  time  and  breath  in  tedious  descriptions  ;  which  we 
see  they  are  fain  to  do,  who  would  discourse  of  any  new  sort  of 
things  they  have  not  yet  a  name. 

§  31.      ESSENCES  OF  STECIES    UNDER  THE  SAME  NAME  VERY  DIFFERENT. 

But  however  these  species  of  substances  pass  well  enough  in 
ordinary  conversation,  it  is  plain  that  this  complex  idea,  wherein 
they  observe  several  individuals  to  agree,  is  by  different  men 
made  very  differently;  by  some  more,  and  others  less  accurately, 
la  some,  this  complex  idea  contains  a  greater,  and  in  others  a 
smaller  number  of  qualities  ;  and  so  is  apparently  such  as  the 
mind  makes  it.  The  yellow  shining  colour  makes  gold  to  chil- 
dren ;  others  add  weight,  malleableness,  and  fusibility ;  and 
others  vet  other  qualities,  which  they  find  joined  with  that  yellow 
colour,  as  constantly  as  its  weight  and  fusibility  ;  for  in  all  these 
and  the  like  qualities,  one  has  as  good  a  right  to  be  put  into  the 
complex  idea  of  that  substance  wherein  they  are  all  joined,  as 
another*  And  therefore  different  men  leaving  out  or  putting  in 
several  simple  ideas>which  others  do  not.  accordingto  their  various 


en.  vi.]  va«]  , : ; 

examination,  skill,  or  observation  of  that  subject,  have  different 
essences  of  gold  ;  which  must  therefore  he  of  their  own,  and  not 
of  nature's  making. 

'    32.    THE  MORE  GENERAL  OUR   IDEAS  AUK.  THE  MORE  INCOMPLETE   AND 
PARTIAL   TJ1K.Y   ARE. 

If  the  number  of  simple  ideas,  that  made  the  nominal  essence 
of  the  lowest  species,  or  first  sorting  of  individuals,  depends  on 
the  mind  of  man  variously  collecting  them,  it  is  much  more  evi- 
dent that  they  do  so  in  the  more  comprehensive  classes,  which 
by  the  masters  of  logic  are  called  genera.     These  are  complex 
ideas  designedly  imperfect :  and  it  is  visible  at  first  sight,  that 
several  of  those  qualities  that  are  to  be  found  in  the  things  them- 
selves arc  purposely  left  out  ofgenerical  ideas.     For  as  the  mind, 
lo  make  general  ideas  comprehending  several  particulars,  leaves 
out  those  of  time,  and  place,  and  such   other,  that  make  them 
incommunicable  to  more  than  one  individual;  so  to  make  other  yet 
more  general  ideas,  that    may  comprehend  different   sorts,  it 
leaves  out  those  qualities  that  distinguish  them,  and  puts  into 
its  new  collection  only  such  ideas   as  are  common  to  several 
sorts.     The  same  convenience  that  made  men  express  several 
parcels  of  yellow  matter  coming  from  Guinea  and  Peru  under 
one  name,  sets  them  also  upon  making  of  one   name  that  may 
comprehend  both  gold  and  silver,  and  some  other  bodies  of  dif- 
ferent sorts.     This  is  done  by  leaving  out  those  qualities  which 
are  peculiar  to  each  sort,  and  retaining  a  complex  idea  made  up 
of  those  that  arc  common  to  them  all ;  to  which  the  name  metal 
being  annexed,  there  is  a  genus  constituted  ;  the  essence  whereof, 
being  that  abstract  idea  containing  only  malleableness  and  fusi- 
bility, with  certain  degrees  of  weight  and  fixedness,  wherein  some 
bodies  of  several  kinds  agree,  leaves  out  the  colour,  and  other 
qualities  peculiar  to  gold  and  silver,  and  the  other  sorts  compre- 
hended under  the  name  metal.     Whereby  it  is  plain,  that  men 
follow  not  exactly  the  patterns  set  them  by  nature,  when  they 
make  their  general  ideas  of  substances ;  since  there  is  no  body  to 
be  found,  which  has  barely  malleableness  and  fusibility  in   it, 
without  other  qualities   as  inseparable  as   those.     But  men  in 
making  their  general  ideas,  seeing  more  the  convenience  of  lan- 
guage and   quick  despatch,  by  short  and  comprehensive  signs, 
than  the  true  and  precise  nature  of  things  as  they  exist,  have,  in 
the  framing  their  abstract  ideas,  chiefly  pursued  that  end  which 
was  to  be  furnished  with  store  of  general  and  variously  compre- 
hensive names.     So  that  in  this  whole  business  of  genera  and 
species,  the  genus,  or  more  comprehensive,  is  but  a  partial  con- 
ception of  what  is  in  the  species,  and  the  species  but  a  partial 
idea  of  what  is  to  be  found  in  each  individual.     If  therefore 
any  one  will  think  that  a  man,  and  a  horse,  and  an  animal,  and  a 
plant.  &c.  are  distinguished  by  real  essences  made  by  nature,  he 
must  think  nature  to  be  very  liberal  of  these  real  essences, 


428  NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCES.  [BOOK  III. 

making  one  for  body,  another  for  an  animal,  and  another  for  a 
horse ;  and  all  these  essences  liberally  bestowed  upon  Buce- 
phalus. But  if  we  would  rightly  consider  what  is  done,  in  all 
these  genera  and  species,  or  sorts,  we  should  find  that  there  is  no 
new  thing  made,  but  only  more  or  less  comprehensive  signs, 
whereby  we  may  be  enabled  to  express,  in  a  few  syllables,  great 
numbers  of  particular  things,  as  they  agree  in  more  or  less 
general  conceptions,  which  we  have  framed  to  that  purpose.  In 
all  which  we  may  observe,  that  the  more  general  term  is  always 
the  name  of  a  less  complex  idea  ;  and  that  each  genus  is  but  a 
partial  conception  of  the  species  comprehended  under  it.  So 
that  if  these  abstract  general  ideas  be  thought  to  be  complete,  it 
ran  only  be  in  respect  of  a  certain  established  relation  between 
them  and  certain  names,  which  are  made  use  of  to  signify  them  : 
and  not  in  respect  of  any  thing  existing,  as  made  by  nature. 

§  33.  THIS  ALL  ACCOMMODATED  TO  THE  END  OF  SPEECH. 

This  is  adjusted  to  the  true  end  of  speech,  which  is  to  be  the 
easiest  and  shortest  way  of  communicating  our  notions.  For 
thus  he,  that  would  discourse  of  things  as  they  agreed  in  the 
complex  idea  of  extension  and  solidity,  needed  but  use  the  word 
body  to  denote  all  such.  He  that  to  these  would  join  others, 
signified  by  the  words  life,  sense,  and  spontaneous  motion, 
needed  but  use  the  word  animal,  to  signify  air  which  partook  of 
those  ideas  :  and  he  that  had  made  a  complex  idea  of  a  body, 
with  life,  sense,  and  motion,  with  the  faculty  of  reasoning,  and  a 
certain  shape  joined  to  it,  needed  but  use  the  short  monosyllable 
man  to  express  all  particulars  that  correspond  to  that  complex 
idea.  This  is  the  proper  business  of  genus  and  species  ;  and  this 
men  do,  without  any  consideration  of  real  essences,  or  substantial 
forms,  which  come  not  within  the  reach  of  our  knowledge,  when 
we  think  of  those  things  ;  nor  within  the  signification  of  our  words, 
when  we  discourse  with  others. 

§  34.    INSTANCE  IN  CONTRARIES. 

Were  I  to  talk  with  any  one  of  a  sort  of  birds  I  lately  saw  in 
St.  James's  Park,  about  three  or  four  feet  high,with  a  covering  of 
something  between  feathers  and  hair,  of  a  dark  brown  colour, 
without  wings,  but  in  the  place  thereof  two  or  three  little  branches 
coming  down  like  sprigs  of  Spanish  broom,  long  great  legs,  with 
feet  only  of  three  claws,  and  without  a  tail ;  1  must  make  this 
description  of  it,  and  so  may  make  others  understand  me  :  but 
when  I  am  told  that  the  name  of  it  is  cassiowary,  I  may  then  use 
that  word  to  stand  in  discourse  for  all  my  complex  idea  men- 
tioned in  that  description  ;  though  by  that  word,  which  is  now 
become  a  specific  name,  I  know  no  more  of  the  real  essence  or 
constitution  of  that  sort  of  animals  than  I  did  beforehand 
knew  probably  as  much  of  the  nature  of  that  species  of  birds, 
before  1  learned  the  name,  as  many  Englishmen  do  of  swans,  or 


'  H.  VI.]  NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCE:-.  429 

herons,  which  are  specific  names,  very  well  known,  of  sorts  of 
birds  common  in  England. 

§  35.    MEN    DETERMIIVE  THE  SORTS. 

From  what  has  been  said,  it  is  evident  that  men  make  sorts  oi 
things.  For  it  being  different  essences  alone  that  make  different 
species,  it  is  plain  that  they  who  make  those  abstract  ideas,  which 
are  the  nominal  essences,  do  thereby  m;ike  the  species,  or  sort. 
Should  there  be  a  body  found,  having  all  the  other  qualities  of 
goid,  except  malleablcness,  it  would  no  doubt  be  made  a  question 
whether  it  were  gold  or  no,  i.  c.  whether  it  were  of  that  species. 
This  could  be  determined  only  by  that  abstract  idea  to  which 
every  one  annexed  the  name  gold  ;  so  that  it  would  be  true  gold 
to  him.  and  belong  to  that  species,  who  included  not  malleablc- 
ness in  his  nominal  essence,  signified  by  the  sound  gold ;  and  on 
the  other  side  it  would  not  be  true  gold,  or  of  that  species,  to  him 
who  included  malleablcness  in  his  specific  idea.  And  who,  I 
pray,  is  it  that  makes  these  diverse  species  even  under  one  and 
ihe  same  name,  but  men  that  make  two  different  abstract  ideas, 
•  onsisting  not  exactly  of  the  same  collection  of  qualities  ?  Nov 
is  it  a  mere  supposition  to  imagine  that  a  body  may  exist, wherein 
the  other  obvious  qualities  of  gold  may  be  without  malleableness: 
since  it  is  certain,  that  gold  itself  will  be  sometimes  so  eager  (a? 
artists  call  it)  that  it  will  as  little  endure  the  hammer  as  glass 
itself.  What  we  have  said  of  the  putting  in  or  leaving  malleable- 
ness out  of  the  complex  idea  the  name  gold  is  by  any  one  annexed 
to,  may  be  said  of  its  peculiar  weight,  fixedness,  and  several  other 
the  like  qualities  :  for  whatsoever  is  left  out,  or  put  in,  it  is  still 
the  complex  idea,  to  which  that  name  is  annexed,  that  makes  the 
species;  and  as  any  particular  parcel  of  matter  answers  that  idea, 
so  the  name  of  the  sort  belongs  truly  to  it ;  and  it  is  of  that  spe- 
cies. And  thus  any  thing  is  true  gold,  perfect  metal.  All  which 
determination  of  the  species,  it  is  plain,  depends  on  the  under- 
standing of  man,  making  this  or  that  complex  idea. 

§  3G.    NATURE  MAKES  THE   SIMILITUDE. 

This  then,  in  short,  is  the  case  :  nature  makes  many  particular 
things  which  do  agree  one  with  another,  in  many  sensible  quali- 
ties, and  probably  too  in  their  internal  frame  and  constitution  : 
but  it  is  not  this  real  essence  that  distinguishes  them  into  species  : 
it  is  men,  who,  taking  occasion  from  the  qualities  they  find  united 
in  them,  and  wherein  they  observe  often  several  individuals  to 
agree,  range  them  into  sorts,  in  order  to  their  naming,  for  the 
convenience  of  comprehensive  signs  ;  under  which  individuals, 
according  to  tlveir  conformity  to  this  or  that  abstract  idea,  come 
to  be  ranked  as  under  ensigns  ;  so  that  this  is  of  the  blue,  that 
the  red  regiment ;  this  a  man,  that  a  drill  :  and  in  this,  I  think. 
i  onsista  the  whole  business  of  genus  and  species. 


I.1.  N'AMES  OP  SUBSTANCES.  [BOOK  III. 

§  37. 

I  do  not  deny  but  nature,  in  the  constant  production  of  parti- 
cular beings,  makes  them  not  always  new  and  various,  but  very 
much  alike  and  of  kin  one  to  another :  but  I  think  it  nevertheless 
true,  that  the  boundaries  of  the  species,  whereby  men  sort  them, 
arc  made  by  men  ;  since  the  essences  of  the  species,  distinguished 
by  different  names,  are,  as  has  been  proved,  of  man's  making,  and 
seldom  adequate  to  the  internal  nature  of  the  things  they  are 
taken  from.  So  that  we  may  truly  say,  such  a  manner  of  sorting 
of  things  is  the  workmanship  of  men. 

§  38.  EACH  ABSTRACT  IDEA  IS  AN  ESSENCE. 

One  thing  I  doubt  not  but  will  seem  very  strange  in  this  doctrine; 
which  is,  that  from  what  has  been  said  it  will  follow,  that  each 
abstract  idea,  with  a  name  to  it  makes  a  distinct  species.  But 
who  can  help  it,  if  truth  will  have  it  so  1  For  so  it  must  remain 
till  somebody  can  show-  us  the  species  of  things,  limited  and 
distinguished  by  something  else,  and  let  us  see,  that  general  terms 
signify  not  our  abstract  ideas,  but  something  different  from  them. 
I  would  fain  know  why  a  shock  and  a  hound  are  not  as  distinct 
species  as  a  spaniel  and  an  elephant.  We  have  no  other  idea  of 
the  different  essence  of  an  elephant  and  a  spaniel,  than  we  have 
of  the  different  essence  a  shock  and  a  hound  ;  all  the  essential 
difference,  whereby  we  know  and  distinguish  them  one  from 
another,  consisting  only  in  the  different  collection  of  simple  ideas, 
to  which  we  have  given  those  different  names. 

§  39.   GENERA  AND    SPECIES  ARE   IN  ORDER  TO  NAMING. 

How  much  the  making  of  species  and  genera  is  in  order  to 
general  names,  and  how  much  general  names  are  necessary,  if 
not  to  the  being,  yet  at  least  to  the  completing  of  a  species,  and 
making  it  pass  for  such,  will  appear,  besides  what  has  been 
said  above  concerning  ice  and  water,  is  a  very  familiar  example. 
A  silent  and  a  striking  watch  are  but  one  species  to  those  who 
have  but  one  name  for  them :  but  he  that  has  the  name  watch  for 
one,  and  clock  for  the  other,  and  distinct  complex  ideas  to  which 
those  names  belong,  to  him  they  are  different  species.  It  will 
be  said,  perhaps,  that  the  inward  contrivance  and  constitution  is 
different  between  these  two,  which  the  watchmaker  has  a  clear 
idea  of.  And  yet  it  is  plain,  they  are  but  one  species  to  him, 
when  he  has  but  one  name  for  them.  For  what  is  sufficient  in 
the  inward  contrivance  to  make  a  new  species  ?  There  are  some 
watches  that  are  made  with  four  wheels,  others  with  five  :  is  this 
a  specific  difference  to  the  workman  ?  Some  have  strings  and 
physic?,  and  others  none;  some  have  the  balance  loose,  and  others 
regulated  by  a  spiral  spring,  and  others  by  hog's  bristles  :  are  any 
or  all  of  these  enough  to  make  a  specific  difference  to  the  work- 
man, that  knows  each  of  these,  and  several  other  different  contri- 
vances, in  the  internal  constitutions  of  watches  ?  It  is  cer- 
tain each  of  these  hath   a   real  difference  from  therest:  but 


I  H.    VI.  j  .NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCES.  4  o  I 

whether  it  be  an  essential;  a  specific  difference  or  no,  relates  onlv 
to  the  complex  idea  to  which  the  name  watch  is  given  :  as  long  as 
they  all  agree  in  the  idea  which  that  name  stands  for,  and  that 
name  does  not  as  a  generical  name  comprehend  different  species 
iinder  it,  they  are  not  essentially  nor  specifically  different.  But 
if  any  one  will  make  minuter  divisions  from  differences  that  he 
knows  in  the  internal  frame  of  watches,  and  to  such  precise  com- 
plex ideas,  give  names  that  shall  prevail  ;  they  will  then  be  new 
species  to  them,  who  have  those  ideas  with  names  to  them  ;  and 
can,  by  those  differences,  distinguish  watches  into  these  several 
sorts,  and  then  tuatch  will  be  a  generical  name.  But  yet  thev 
would  be  no  distinct  species  to  men  ignorant  of  clock-work  and 
the  inward  contrivances  of  watches,  who  had  no  other  idea  but 
the  outward  shape  and  bulk,  with  the  marking  of  the  hours  by 
the  hand.  For  to  them  all  those  other  names  would  be  but 
synonymous  terms  for  the  same  idea,  and  signify  no  more,  nor  no 
other  thing  but  a  watch.  Just  thus,  I  think,  it  is  in  natural  things. 
Nobody  will  doubt  that  the  wheels  or  springs  (if  1  may  so  say) 
within,  arc  different  in  a  rational  man  and  a  changeling,  no  more 
than  that  there  is  a  difference  in  the  frame  between  a  drill  and  a 
changeling.  But  whether  one  or  both  these  differences  be  essen- 
tial or  specifical,  is  only  to  be  known  to  us,  by  their  agreement 
or  disagreement  with  the  complex  idea  that  the  name  man  stands 
for:  for  by  that  alone  can  it  be  determined,  whether  one,  or  both, 
or  neither  of  those  be  a  man  or  no. 

§  40.    SPECIHS  OF    ARTIFICIAL   THINGS    LESS  CONFUSED  THAN'  NATURAL 

From  what  has  been  before  said,  we  may  see  the  reason  win- 
in  the  species  of  artificial  things,  there  is  generally  less  confusion 
and  uncertainty,  than  in  natural.  Because  an  artificial  thinn 
being  a  production  of  man,  which  the  artificer  designed,  and 
Therefore  well  knows,  the  idea  of,  the  name  of  it  is  supposed  to 
?tand  for  no  other  idea,  nor  to  import  any  other  essence  than 
what  is  certainly  to  be  known,  and  easy  enough  to  be  appre- 
hended. For  the  idea  or  essence  of  the  several  sorts  of  artificial 
things,  consisting,  for  the  most  part,  in  nothing  but  the  determi- 
nate figure  of  sensible  parts  ;  and  sometimes  motion  depending 
thereon,  which  the  artificer  fashions  in  matter,  such  as  he  finds 
for  his  turn  ;  it  is  not  beyond  the  reach  of  our  faculties  to  attain 
a  certain  idea  thereof,  and  to  settle  the  signification  of  the  names, 
whereby  the  species  of  artificial  things  are  distinguished  with  less 
doubt,  obscurity,  and  equivocation,  than  we  can  in  things  natural, 
whose  differences  and  operations  depend  upon  contrivances 
beyond  the  reach  of  our  discoveries. 

!     U.    ARTIFICIAL  THINGS  OF  DISTINC1 

1  rpust  be  excused  here  if  1  think  artificial  things  arc  - 
species,  as  well  as  natural  :  since  I  find  they  areas  plainly  and 
orderly  ranked  into  sorts,  by  different  absti  is,  with  general 


iJ2  NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCES.  [HOOK  ill. 

names  annexed  to  them,  as  distinct  one  from  another  as  those  of 
natural  substances.  For  why  should  we  not  think  a  watch  and 
pistol,  as  distinct  species  one  from  another,  as  a  horse  and  a  dog, 
they  being  expressed  in  our  minds  by  distinct  ideas,  and  to  others 
by  distinct  appellations  ? 

§  42.  SUBSTANCES  ALONE  HAVE  PROPER  NAMES. 

This  is  farther  to  be  observed  concerning  substances,  that  they 
alone  of  all  our  several  sorts  of  ideas  have  particular  or  proper 
names,  whereby  the  only  particular  thing  is  signified.  Because 
in  simple  ideas,  modes,  and  relations,  it  seldom  happens  that  men 
have  occasion  to  mention  often  this  or  that  particular  when  it  is 
absent.  Besides,  the  greatest  part  of  mixed  modes,  being  actions 
which  perish  in  their  birth,  are  not  capable  of  a  lasting  duration 
as  substances,  which  are  the  actors :  and  wherein  the  simple  ideas 
that  make  up  the  complex  ideas  designed  by  the  name,  have  a 
lasting  union. 

§  43.    DIFFICULTY  TO  TREAT  OF   WORDS. 

I  must  beg  pardon  of  my  reader,  for  having  dwelt  so  long 
upon  this  subject,  and  perhaps  with  some  obscurity.  But  I  desire 
it  may  be  considered  how  difficult  it  is  to  lead  another  by  words 
into  the  thoughts  of  things  stripped  of  those  specific  differences 
we  give  them  :  which  things,  if  I  name  not,  I  say  nothing  ;  and  if 
I  do  name  them,  I  thereby  rank  them  into  some  sort  or  other,  and 
suggest  to  the  mind  the  usual  abstract  idea  of  that  species,  and 
so  cross  my  purpose.  For  to  talk  of  a  man,  and  to  lay  by,  at  the 
same  time,  the  ordinary  signification  of  the  name  man,  which  is 
our  complex  idea  usually  annexed  to  it ;  and  bid  the  reader  con- 
sider man  as  he  is  in  himself,  and  as  he  is  really  distinguished 
from  others  in  his  internal  constitution,  or  real  essence,  that  is, 
by  something  he  knows  not  what,  looks  like  trifling  :  and  yet 
thus  one  must  do  who  would  speak  of  the  supposed  real  essences 
and  species  of  things,  as  thought  to  be  made  by  nature,  if  it  be 
but  only  to  make  it  understood,  that  there  is  no  such  thing  signi- 
fied by  the  general  names,  which  substances  are  called  by,  but 
because  it  is  difficult  by  known  familiar  names  to  do  this,  give 
me  leave  to  endeavour  by  an  example,  to  make  the  different 
consideration  the  mind  has  of  specific  names  and  ideas  a  little 
more  clear  ;  and  to  show  how  the  complex  ideas  of  modes  are 
referred  sometimes  to  archetypes  in  the  minds  of  other  intelligent 
beings ;  or,  which  is  the  same,  to  the  signification  annexed  by 
others  to  their  received  names  ;  and  sometimes  to  no  archetypes 
at  all.  Give  me  leave  also  to  show  how  the  mind  always  refers 
its  ideas  of  substances,  either  to  the  substances  themselves,  or  to 
the  signification  of  their  names  as  to  the  archetypes  ;  and  also  to 
make  plain  the  nature  of  species,  or  sorting  of  things,  as  appre- 
hended, and  made  use  of  by  us  ;  and  of  the  essences  belonging 
to  those  species,  which  is  perhaps  of  more  moment,  to  dis- 


H.  XI.]  [JAMES  OF  SUBSTANCES,  4.;.} 

cover  the  extent  and  certainty  of  our  knowledge  than  we  at  tirsi 
imagine. 

§  44.    INSTANCE  OF  MIXED  MODES  IN  KINNEAH  AND  NIOUPH. 

Let  us  suppose  Adam  in  the  state  of  a  grown  man,  with  a  good 
understanding,  but  in  a  strange  country,  with  all  things  new  and 
unknown  about  him  ;  and  no  other  faculties,  to  attain  the  know- 
ledge of  them,  but  what  one  of  this  age  has  now.  He  observes 
Lamech  more  melancholy  than  usual,  and  imagines  it  to  be  from 
a  suspicion  he  has  of  his  wife  Adah  (whom  he  most  ardently 
loved)  that  she  had  too  much  kindness  for  another  man.  Adam 
discourses  these  his  thoughts  to  Eve,  and  desires  her  to  take  care 
that  Adah  commit  not  folly  :  and  in  these  discourses  with  Eve 
he  makes  use  of  these  two  new  words,  Kinneah  and  Niouph.  in 
time  Adam's  mistake  appears,  for  he  finds  Lamech's  trouble 
proceeded  from  having  killed  a  man  :  but  yet  the  two  names, 
Kinneah  and  Niouph  ;  the  one  standing  for  suspicion,  in  a  hus- 
band, of  his  wife's  disloyalty  to  him,  and  the  other  for  the  act  of 
committing  disloyalty,  lost  not  their  distinct  significations.  !t  is 
plain  then  that  here  were  two  distinct  complex  ideas  of  mixed  modes 
with  names  to  them,  two  distinct  species  of  action  essentially  differ- 
ent ;  1  ask  wherein  consisted  the  essences  of  these  two  distinct  spe- 
cies of  action  ?  And  it  is  plain  it  consisted  in  a  precise  combination 
of  simple  ideas,  different  in  one  froVn  the  other.  I  ask,  whether  the 
complex  idea  in  Adam's  mind,  which  he  called  Kinneah,  were  ade- 
quate or  no?  Audit  is  plain  it  was,forit  being  a  combination  of  sim- 
ple ideas,  which  he,  without  any  regard  to  any  archetype,  without 
respect  to  any  thing  as  a  pattern,  voluntarily  put  together,  abstract- 
ed, and  gave  the  name  Kinneah  to,  to  express  in  short  to  others, 
by  that  one  sound,  all  the  simple  ideas  contained  and  united  in 
that  complex  one  ;  it  must  necessarily  follow,  that  it  was  an  ade- 
quate idea.  His  own  choice  having  made  that  combination,  it 
had  all  in  it  he  intended  it  should,  and  so  could  not  be  perfect, 
could  not  but  be  adequate,  it  being  referred  to  no  other  arche- 
type, which  it  was  supposed  to  represent. 

§  45. 

These  words,  Kinneah  and  Niouph,  by  degrees  grew  into  com- 
mon use  ;  and  then  the  case  was  somewhat  altered.  Adam's 
children  had  the  same  faculties,  and  thereby  the  same  power  that 
he  had  to  make  what  complex  ideas  of  mixed  modes  they  pleased 
in  their  own  minds  ;  to  abstract  them,  and  make  what  sounds  they 
pleased  the  signs  of  them  :  but  the  use  of  names  being  to  make 
our  ideas  within  us  known  to  others,  that  cannot  be  done,  but 
when  the  same  sign  stands  for  the  same  idea  in  two  who  would 
communicate  their  thoughts,  and  discourse  together.  Those 
therefore  of  Adam's  children,  that  found  these  two  words, 
Kinneah  and  Niouph,  in  familiar  use,  could  not  take  them  for 
insignificant  sounds  :  but  must  needs  conclude,  thev  «tood  for 

Vol.  1. 


434  NAMES  OF  SUBSTANCES.  [jJOOK  III. 

something,  for  certain  ideas,  abstract  ideas,  they  being  general 
names,  which  abstract  ideas  were  the  essences  of  the  species 
distinguished  by  those  names.  If,  therefore,  they  would  use 
these  words,  as  names  of  species  already  established  and  agreed 
on,  they  were  obliged  to  conform  the  ideas,  in  their  minds  sig- 
nified by  these  names,  to  the  ideas  that  they  stood  for  in  other 
men's  minds,  as  to  their  patterns  and  archetypes  ;  and  then 
indeed  their  ideas  of  these  complex  modes  were  liable  to  be 
inadequate,  as  being  very  apt  (especially  those  that  consisted  of 
combinations  of  many  simple  ideas)  not  to  be  exactly  conformable 
to  the  ideas  in  other  men's  minds,  using  the  same  names ;  though 
for  this  there  be  usually  a  remedy  at  hand,  which  is  to  ask  the 
meaning  of  any  word  we  understand  not,  of  him  that  uses  it :  it 
being  as  impossible  to  know  certainly  what  the  words  jealousy 
and  adultery  (which  I  think  answer  roup  and  ppto)  stand  for  in 
another  man's  mind,  with  whom  I  would  discourse  about  them  ; 
as  it  was  impossible,  in  the  beginning  of  language,  to  know  what 
Kinneah  and  Niouph  stood  for  in  another  man's  mind,  without 
explication,  they  being  voluntary  signs  in  every  one. 

§  46  INSTANCES  OF  SUBSTANCES  IN  ZAHAB. 

Let  us  now  also  consider,  after  the  same  manner,  the  names  of 
substances  in  their  first  application.  One  of  Adam's  children, 
roving  in  the  mountains,  lights  on  a  glittering  substance  which 
pleases  his  eye  ;  home  he  carries  it  to  Adam,  who,  upon  conside- 
ration of  it,  finds  it  to  be  hard,  to  have  a  bright  yellow  colour, 
and  an  exceeding  great  weight.  These,  perhaps,  at  first,  are  all 
the  qualities  he  takes  notice  of  in  it  :  and  abstracting  this  com- 
plex idea,  consisting  of  a  substance  having  that  peculiar  bright 
yellowness,  and  a  weight  very  great  in  proportion  to  its  bulk,  he 
gives  it  the  name  Zahab,  to  denote  and  mark  all  substances  that 
have  these  sensible  qualities  in  them.  It  is  evident  now  that,  in 
this  case,  Adam  acts  quite  differently  from  what  he  did  before  in 
forming  those  ideas  of  mixed  modes,  to  which  he  gave  the  names 
Kinneah  and  Niouph.  For  there  he  puts  ideas  together,  only  by 
his  own  imagination,  not  taken  from  the  existence  of  any  thing  : 
and  to  them  he  gave  names  to  denominate  all  things  that  should 
happen  to  agree  to  those  his  abstract  ideas,  without  considering 
whether  any  such  thing  did  exist  or  no  :  the  standard  there  was  of 
his  own  making.  But  in  the  forming  his  idea  of  this  new  substance, 
he  takes  the  quite  contrary  course  ;  here  he  has  a  standard  made 
by  nature  ;  and  therefore  being  to  represent  that  to  himself,  by 
the  idea  he  has  of  it,  even  when  it  is  absent,  he  puts  in  no  simple 
idea  into  his  complex  one,  but  what  he  has  the  perception  of  from 
the  thing  itself.  He  takes  care  that  his  idea  be  conformable  to 
this  archetype,  and  intends  the  name  should  stand  for  an  idea  so 
conformable. 


t. II,  VI. J  ST  AMES  01   SUBSTANCES.  135 

§47. 

This  piece  of  matter,  thus  denominated  Zahab,  by  Adam,  being 
quite  different  from  any  he  had  seen  before,  nobody,  I  think  will 
deny  to  be  a  distinct  species,  and  to  have  its  peculiar  essence  ; 
and'that  the  name  Zahab  is  the  mark  of  the  species,  and  a  name  be- 
longing to  all  things  partaking  in  that  essence.  But  here  it  is  plain, 
the  essence,  Adam  made  the  name  Zahab  stand  for,  was  nothing  but 
a  body  hard,  shining,  yellow,  and  very  heavy.  But  the  inquisitive 
mind  of  man,  not  content  with  the  knowledge  of  these,  as  I  may 
say  superficial  qualities,  puts  Adam  on  farther  examination  of  this 
matter.  He  therefore  knocks  and  beats  it  with  flints,  to  see  what  was 
discoverable  in  the  inside  :  he  finds  it  yield  to  blows,  but  not  easily 
separate  into  pieces  :  he  finds  it  will  bend  without  breaking.  Is 
not  now  ductility  to  be  added  to  his  former  idea,  and  made  part 
of  the  essence  of  the  species  that  name  Zahab  stands  for  ?  Far- 
ther trials  discover  fusibility  and  fixedness.  Are  not  they  also, 
by  the  same  reason  that  any  of  the  others  were,  to  be  put  into 
the  complex  idea  signified  by  the  name  Zahab  ?  If  not,  wl  at 
reason  will  there  be  shown  more  for  the  one  than  the  other  ?  If 
these  must,  then  all  the  other  properties,  which  any  farther  trials 
shall  discover  in-  this  matter,  ought  by  the  same  reason  to  make  a 
part  of  the  ingredients  of  the  complex  idea,  which  the  name 
Zahab  stands  for,  and  so  be  the  essence  of  the  species  marked  i.y 
that  name.  Which  properties,  beeause  they  are  endless,  it  is 
plain,  that  the  idea  made  after  this  fashion  by  this  archetype,  will 
be  always  inadequate. 

§   48.    THEIR   IUEAS  1MFERKEIT,   ANJI    TUKKKl'OKli    VARIOUS. 

But  this  is  not  all,  it  would  also  follow,  that  the  names  of  sub- 
stances would  not  only  have  (as  in  truth  they  have)  but  would 
also  be  supposed  to  have  different  significations,  as  used  by  dif- 
ferent men,  which  would  very  much  cumber  the  use  of  language. 
For  if  every  distinct  quality,  that  were  discovered  in  any  matter  by 
any  one,  were  supposed  to  make  a  necessary  part  of  the  complex 
idea,  signified  by  the  common  name  given  it,  it  must  follow,  that 
men  must  suppose  the  same  word  to  signify  different  things  in  dif- 
ferent men  ;  since  they  cannot  doubt  but  different  men  may  have 
discovered  several  qualities  in  substances  of  the  same  denomina- 
tion, which  others  know  nothing  of. 

§  40.   THEREFORE  TO  FIX  THEIR  SPECIES,  A  REAL  ESSENCE  IS  SUPPOSED. 

To  avoid  this,  therefore,  they  have  supposed  a  real  essence 
belonging  to  every  species,  from  which  these  properties  all  flow, 
and  would  have  their  name  of  the  species  stand  for  that.  But 
they  not  having  any  idea  of  that  real  essense  in  substances,  and 
their  words  signifying  nothing  but  the  ideas  the)  ha\  e,  that  which 
is  done  by  this  attempt,  is  only  to  put  the  name  or  sound  in  the 
place  and  stead  of  the  thing  having  that  real  essence,  without 
knowing  what  the  real  essence  is ;  and  this  is  that  which  men  do. 


436  3AMES  OF  SUBSTANCES.  [BOOK  III. 

Avhen  they  speak  of  species  of  things,  as  supposing  them  made 
by  nature,  and  distinguished  by  real  essences. 

§    50.  WHICH  SUPPOSITION  IS  OF  NO  USE. 

For  let  us  consider,  when  we  affirm,  that  all  gold  is  fixed, 
either  it  means  that  fixedness  is  a  part  of  the  definition,  part  of 
the  nominal  essence  the  word  gold  stands  for  ;  and  so  this  affirma- 
tion, all  gold  is  fixed,  contains  nothing  but  the  signification  of  the 
term  gold.  Or  else  it  means,  that  fixedness  not  being  a  part  of 
the  definition  of  the  word  gold,  is  a  property  of  that  substance 
itself;  in  which  case,  it  is  plain,  that  the  word  gold  stands  in  the 
place  of  a  substance,  having  the  real  essence  of  a  species  of 
things  made  by  nature.  In  which  way  of  substitution  it  has  so 
confused  and  uncertain  a  signification,  that  though  this  proposi- 
tion, gold  is  fixed,  be  in  that  sense  an  affirmation  of  something 
real,  yet  it  is  a  truth  will  always  fail  us  in  its  particular  applica- 
tion, and  so  is  of  no  real  use  nor  certainty.  For  let  it  be  ever  so 
true,  that  all  gold,  t.  e.  all  that  has  the  real  essence  of  gold,  is 
fixed,  what  serves  this  for,  whilst  we  know  not,  in  this  sense,  what 
is  or  is  not  gold  ?  for  if  we  know  not  the  real  essence  of  gold,  it  is 
impossible  we  should  know  what  parcel  of  matter  has  that  essence, 
and  so  whether  it  be  true  gold  or  no. 

§    51.  CONCLUSION. 

To  conclude :  what  liberty  Adam  had  at  first  to  make  any 
complex  ideas  of  mixed  modes,  by  no  other  patterns  but  by  his 
own  thoughts,  the  same  have  all  men  ever  since  had.  And  the 
same,  necessity  n{  conforming  his  ideas  of  substances  to  things 
without  him,  as  to  archetypes  made  by  nature,  that  Adam  was 
under,  if  he  would  not  wilfully  impose  upon  himself ;  the  same 
are  all  men  ever  since  under  too.  The  same  liberty  also  that 
Adam  had  of  affixing  any  new  name  to  any  idea,  the  same  has 
any  one  still  (especially  the  beginners  of  languages,  if  we  can 
imagine  any  such)  but  only  with  this  difference,  that  in  places 
where  men  in  society  have  already  established  a  language 
among  them,  the  signification  of  words  are  very  warily  and 
sparingly  to  be  altered  :  because  men  being  furnished  already 
with  names  for  their  ideas,  and  common  use  having  appropriated 
known  names  to  certain  ideas,  an  affected  misapplication  of 
them  cannot  but  be  very  ridiculous.  He  that  hath  new  notions 
will,  perhaps,  venture  sometimes  on  the  coining  new  terms  to 
express  them  :  but  men  think  it  a  boldness,  and  it  is  uncertain 
whether  common  use  will  ever  make  them  pass  for  current.  But 
in  communication  with  others,  it  is  necessary,  that  we  conform 
the  ideas  we  make  the  vulgar  words  of  any  language  stand  for,  to 
their  known  proper  significations  (which  I  have  explained  at  large 
already)  or  else  to  make  known^that  new  signification  we  apply 
them  to. 

v\f)  ov  thf.  np.^T  vor.r\H-. 


IS 


ESSAY 


CONCERNING 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 


AVRITTEN 


BY  JOHN  LOCKE,  GENT 


TO  WHICH  ARK  ADDED, 

I.  AS  ANALYSIS  OF  MR.  LOCKE'S  DOCTRINE  OF  IDEAS,  ON  A  LARGE  SHEET. 
II.   A    DEFENCE   OF    MR.   LOCKE'S    OPINION    CONCERNING    PERSONAL    IDENTITY, 

WITH  AN  APPENDIX. 
III.    A  TREATISE  ON  THE  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 

IV.   SOME  THOUGHTS  CONCERNING  READING  AND  STUDY  FOR  A  GENTLEMAN. 
V.   ELEMFNTS  OF  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHY. 
Vl.   A  NEW  METHOD  OF  A  COMMON-PLACE  BOOK. 

EXTRACTED  FROM  THE  AUTHOR'S  WORKS 

A  NEW  EDITION. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES 
VOL.  II. 


jtfeto=¥oi*K : 

PUBLISHED  BY  VALENTINE  SEAMAN 


J.  it  J.  Harper,   Printer";, 

1824 


CONTEiVTS  OF  VOLUME  II, 


ESSAY  ON  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  continue*. 
BOOK  III. 


CHAP.  VII. 

Of  par  tides. 
Sect. 

1.  Particles  connect  parts,  or  whole 
sentences  together. 

2.  In  them  consists  the   art  of  well 

speaking. 

3.  4.  They  show   what    relation  the 

mind  gives  to  its  own  thoughts. 

5.  Instance  in  but. 

6.  This  matter  but  lightly  touched  here . 

CHAP.  VIII. 
Of  abstract  and  concrete  terms. 
Sect. 

1.  Abstract  terms  not  predicable  one 
of  another,  and  why. 

2.  They  show  the  difference  of  our 
ideas. 

CHAP.  IX. 
Of  the  imperfection  of  words. 
Sect. 

1.  Words  are  used  for  recording  and 
communicating  our  thoughts. 

2.  Any  words  will  serve  for  recording. 

3.  Communication  by  words,  civil  or 

philosophical. 

4.  The  imperfection  of  words,  is  the 
doubtfulness  of  their  signification. 

5.  Causes  of  their  imperfection. 

6.  The  names  of  mixed  modes  doubt- 
ful :  first,  because  the  ideas  they 
stand  for  are  so  complex. 

7.  Secondly,  because  they  have  no 
standards. 

8.  Propriety  not  a  sufficient  remedy. 

9.  The  way  of  learning  these  names 
contributes  also  to  their  doubtful- 
ness. 

10.  Hence  unavoidable  obscurity  in  an- 
cient authors. 

11.  Names  of  substances  of  doubtful 

signification. 

12.  Names  of  substances  referred. — 
First,  to  real  essences  that  cannot 
be  known. 

13, 14.  Secondly,  to  coexisting  quali- 
ties, which  are  known  but  imper- 
fectly. 

15.  With  this  imperfection  they  may 
serve  for  civil,  but  not  well  for  phi- 
losophical use. 

16.  Instance — Liquor  of  nerves. 

17.  Instance — Gold. 

18.  The  names  of  simple  ideas  the  least 
doubtful. 

19.  And  next  to  them  simple  modes. 

■  ').  The  most  doubtful,  are  the  name; 


of  very  compounded  mixed  modes 
and  substances. 

21.  Why  this  imperfe  ction  charged  upon 
words. 

22,  23.  This  should  teach  us  moderation 

in  imposing  our  own  sense  of  old 
authors. 

CHAP.  X. 
Of  the  abuse  of  words. 
Sect. 

1.  Abuse  of  words. 

2,  3.  First,  words  without  any,  or  with- 

out clear  ideas. 

4.  Occasioned  by  learning  names  before 
the  ideas  they  belong  to. 

5.  Secondly,  Unsteady  application  of 
them. 

6.  Thirdly,  Affected  obscurity  by  wroljg 
application. 

7.  Logic  and  dispute  have  much  contri- 
buted to  it. 

8.  Calling  it  subtilty. 

9.  This  learning  very  little  benefits  so- 
ciety. 

10.  But  destroys  the  instruments  of 
knowledge  and  communication. 

1 1.  As  useful  as  to  confound  the  sound  of 
the  letters. 

12.  This  art  has  perplexed  religion  and 
justice. 

13.  And  ought  not  to  pass  for  learning. 

14.  Fourthly,  Taking  them  for  things. 

15.  Instance  in  matter. 

16.  This  makes  errors  lasting. 

17.  Fifthly,  Setting  tliem  for  what  they 
cannot  signify. 

18.  V.  g.  putting  them  for  the  real  es- 
sences of  substances. 

19.  Hence  we  think  every  change  of  our 
idea  in  substances,  not  to  change  the 
species. 

20.  Thecauseof  this  abuse,  a  supposition 
of  nature's  working  always  regularly 

21.  This  abuse  contains  two  false  suppo- 
sitions.   « 

22.  Sixthly,a  supposition  that  words  have 
a  certain  and  evident  signification. 

23.  The  ends  of  language.  First,  to  con- 
vey our  ideas. 

24.  Secondly,  To  do  it  with  quickness, 

25.  Thirdly,  Therewith  to  convey  the 
knowledge  of  things. 

26-31.  How  men's  words  fail  in  all  these 
*32.  How  in  substances. 
33    How  in  modes  and  relations. 
34.  Seventhly,  Figurative  speech  also  an 
ab'.i=e  of  language. 


11 


CONTEiVis. 


CHAP-  XI. 

Of  the  remedies  of  the  foregoing  imper- 
fections and  abuses. 
Sect. 

1 .  They  are  worth  seeking. 

2.  Are  not  easy. 

3.  But  yet  necessary  to  philosophy. 

4.  Misuse  of  words,  the  cause  of  great 
errors. 

5.  Obstinacy. 

6.  And  wrangling, 

7.  Instance — Bat  and  bird. 

8.  First  remedy,  To  use  no  word  with- 
out an  idea. 

9.  Secondly,  To  have  distinct  ideas  an- 
nexed to  them  in  modes. 

10.  And  distinct  and  conformable  in  sub- 

stances. 

11.  Thirdly,  Propriety. 

12.  Fourthly,   To    make   known    their 
meaning. 

13.  And  that  three  ways. 


14.  First,  In  simple  ideas  by  synonymous 
terms  or  showing. 

15.  Secondly,  In  mixed  modes  by  defini- 
tion. 

16.  Morality  capable  of  demonstration. 

17.  Definitions  can  make  moral  discour- 
ses clear. 

18.  And  is  the  only  way. 

19.  Thirdly,  In  substances,  by  showing 
and  defining. 

20,21.  Ideas  of  the  leading  qualities  of 
substances,  are  best  got  by  showing. 

22.  The  ideas  of  their  powers  best  by  de- 
finition. 

23.  A   reflection  en   the  knowledge  of 
spirits. 

24.  Ideas  also  of  substances  must  be  con- 
formable to  tilings. 

25.  Not  easy  to  be  made  so. 

26.  Fifthly,  by  constancy  in  their  signi- 
fication. 

27.  When  the  variationis  to  be  explained. 


BOOK  IV. 
OF  KNOWLEDGE  AND  OPINION. 


Sect. 
]. 


CHAP.  I. 

Of  knowledge  in  general. 


Our  knowledge  conversant  about  our 
ideas. 

2.  Knowledge  is  the  perception  of  the 
agreement  or  disagreement  of  two 
ideas. 

.».  This  agreement  fourfold. 

4.  First,  Of  identity  or  diversity. 

5.  Secondly,  Relation. 

6.  Thirdly,  Of  coexistence. 

'"'.  Fourthly,  Of  real  existence. 

3.  Knowledge  actual  or  habitual. 
9.  Habitual  knowledge  twofold. 

CHAP.  II. 
Of  the  degrees  of  our  knowledge. 
Sect. 

1.  Intuitive. 

2.  Demonstrative, 

'J.  Depends  on  proofs. 

4.  But  not  so  easy. 

5.  Not.  without  precedent  doubt. 

6.  Not  so  clear. 

7.  Each  step  must  have  intuitive  evi- 
dence. 

8.  Hence  the  mistake  ex  prajcognitis  et 
praeconcessis. 

9.  Demonstration  not  limited  to  quan- 
tity. 

li)-13.  Why  it  has  been  so  thought. 

14.  Sensitive  knowledge  of  particular 
existence. 

15.  Knowledge  not  always  clear,  where 

the  ideas  are  so. 

CHAP.  III. 
Of  the  extent  of  human  knoicledge. 
Sect. 
1.  FirsT.  No  farther  than  we  have  ideas 


2.  Secondly,  no  farther  than  we  can 
perceive  their  agreement  or  disa- 
greement. 

3.  Thirdly,  intuitive  knowledge  extends 
itself  not  to  all  the  relations  of  all 
our  ideas. 

4.  Fourthly,  not  demonstrative  know- 
ledge. 

5.  Fifthly,  sensitive  knowledge  narrow- 
er than  either. 

6.  Sixthly,  our  knowledge  therefore 
narrower  than  our  ideas. 

7.  How  far  our  knowledge  reaches. 

8.  First,  our  knowledge  of  identity  and 
diversity,  as  far  as  our  ideas. 

9.  Secondly,  of  coexistence  a  very  lit- 
tle way. 

10.  Because  the  connexion  between 
most  simple  ideas  is  unknown. 

11.  Especially  of  secondary  qualities. 
12-14.  And  farther,  because  all  connexion 

between  any  secondary  and  primary 
qualities  is  undiscoverable. 

15.  Of  repugnancy  to  coexist  larger. 

16.  <Of  the  coexistence  of  powers  a  very 

little  way. 

17.  Of  spirits  yet  narrower. 

18.  Thirdly,  of  other  relations,  it  is  not 
easy  to  say  how  far.  Morality  ca- 
pable of  demonstration. 

19.  Two  things  have  made  moral  ideas 
thought  incapable  of  demonstration. 
Their  complexedness  and  want  of 
sensible  representations. 

20.  Remedies  of  those  difficulties. 

21.  Fourthly,  of  real  existence,  we  have 
an  intuitive  knowledge  of  our  own. 
demonstrative  of  God's,  sensitive  ot 

o  •  few  other  things. 


CONTENTS. 


22.  Our  ignorance  great. 

23.  First,  one  cause  of  it,  want  of  ideas, 
either  such  as  we  have  no  conception 
of,  or  such  as  particularly  we  have 
not. 

24.  Because  of  their  remoteness,  or, 

25.  Because  of  their  minuteness. 

26.  Henc.H  no  science  of  bodies. 

27.  Much  less  of  spirits. 

28.  Secondly,  want  of  a  discoverable  con- 
nexion between  ideas  we  have. 

29-  Instances. 

30.  Thirdly,  want  of  tracing  our  ideas. 

31.  Extent  in  respect  of  universality. 

CHAP.  IV. 
Of  the  reality  of  our  knowledge. 
Sect. 
1 .  Objection,knowledge  placed  in  ideas, 

may  be  all  bare  vision. 
2, 3.  Answer,  not  so,  where  ideas  agree 
with  things. 

4.  As,  first,  all  simple  ideas  do. 

5.  Secondly,  all  complex  ideas,  except 
of  substances. 

6.  Hence  the  reality  of  mathematical 
knowledge. 

7.  And  of  moral. 

3.  Existence  not  required  to  make  it 
real. 

9.  Nor  will  it  be  less  true  or  certain,  be- 
cause moral  ideas  are  of  our  own 
making  and  naming. 

10.  Misnaming  disturbs  not  the  certainty 
of  the  knowledge. 

11.  Ideas  of  substances  have  their  arche- 

types without  us. 

12.  So  far  as  they  agree  with  those,  so 
far  our  knowledge  concerning  them 
is  real. 

13.  In  our  inquiries  about  substances,  we 
must  consider  ideas,  and  not  confine 
our  thoughts  to  names  or  species  sup- 
posed set  out  by  names. 

11,15.  Objection  against  a  changeling 
being  something  between  man  and 
beast,  answered. 

16.  Monsters. 

17.  Words  and  species. 
It!.  Recapitulation. 

CHAP.  V. 
Of  ninth  in  general. 
sfxt. 

1.  What  truth  is. 

2.  A  right  joiningor  separating  of  signs; 
i.  e.  ideas  or  words. 

3.  Which  make  mental  or  verbal  propo- 

sitions. 

4.  Mental  propositions  are  very  hard  to 

lie  treated  of. 

5.  Being  nothing  but  joining,  or  sepa- 

rating ideas  \v  Lthoul  VI 

6.  When   mental    propositions   contain 
real  truth,  and  when  verbal. 

7.  Objection  against  verbal  truth,  that 
thus  it  may  be  all  chimerical. 

8.  Answered,  Real  truth  is  about  ideas 

eeing  to  'hin^-- 


9.  Falsehood  is  the  joining  of  names 
otherwise  than  their  ideas  agree. 

.10.  General  propositions  to  be  treated  of 

more  at  large. 
11.  Moral  and  Metaphysical  truth. 

CHAP.  VI. 
Of  universal  propositions,  their  truth  and 

certainty. 
Sect. 

1 .  Treating  of  words,  necessary  to 
knowledge. 

2.  General  truths,  hardly  to  be  under- 
stood, but  in  verbal  propositions. 

3.  Certainty  twofold,  of  truth  and  of 

knowledge. 

4.  No  proposition  can  be  known  to  be 
true,  where  the  essence  of  each  spe- 
cies mentioned  is  not  known. 

5.  This  more  particularly  concerns  sub- 

stances. 

6.  The  truth  of  few  universal  proposi- 
tions concerning  substances,  is  to  be 
known. 

7.  Because  coexistence  of  ideas  in  few 
cases  is  to  be  known. 

8, 9.  Instance  in  gold. 

10.  As  far  as  any  such  coexistence  can 
be  known,  so  far  universal  proposi- 
tions may  be  certain.  But  this  will 
go  but  a  little  way,  because, 

11,12.  The  qualities  winch  make  our 
complex  ideas  of  substances,  depend 
mostly  on  external,  remote,  and  un- 
perceived  causes. 

13.  Judgment  may  reachfarther,  but  that 
is  not  knowledge. 

14.  What  is  requisite  for  our  knowledge 
of  substances. 

15.  Whilst  our  ideas  of  substances  con- 
tain not  their  real  constitutions,  we 
can  make  but  few  general  certain 
propositions  concerning  them. 

16.  Wherein  lies  the  general  certainty  of 
propositions. 

CHAP.  VII. 

Of  maxims. 
Skct. 
1.  They  are  self-evident. 
J.   U  ben  in  that  self-evidence  consists. 

3.  Self-evidence  not  peculiar  to  received 

axioms. 

4.  First,  as  to  identity  and  diversity,  all 
propositions  are  equally  self-evident. 

5.  Secondly,  in  coexistence  we  have 
few  self-evident  propositions. 

6.  Thirdly,  in  other  relations  we  may 

have. 

7.  Fourthly,  concerning  real  exist- 
ence, we  have  none. 

C.  These  axioms  do  not  much  influence 

our  other  knowledge/ 
9.  Because  they  are  not  the  truths  the 

first  known. 

10.  Because  on  them  the  other  parts  of 

our  knowledge  do  not  depend. 

11.  Whatuse  these  general suuumi 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


12.  Maxims,  it  care  be  not  taken  in  the 
use  of  words,  may  prove  contradic- 
tions. 

13.  Instance  in  vacuum. 

14.  They  provenotthe  existence  ofthings 
without  us. 

15.  Their  application  dangerous  about 
complex  ideas. 

16-18.  Instance  in  man. 

19.  Little  use  of  these  maxims  in  proofs 
where  we  have  clear  and  distinct 
ideas. 

20.  Their  use  dangerous,  where  our  ideas 
are  confused. 

CHAP.  VIII. 
Of  trifling  propositions. 
Sect. 
1 .  Some  propositions  bring  no  increase 

to  our  knowledge. 
2, 3.  As,  first,  identical  propositions. 

4.  Secondly,  when  a  part  of  any  complex 
idea  is  predicated  of  the  whole. 

5.  As  part  of  the  definition  of  the  term 
defined. 

6.  Instance — Man  and  palfry. 

7.  For  this  teaches  but  the  signification 

of  words. 

8.  But  no  real  knowledge. 

9.  General  propositions  concerning  sub- 
stances are  often  trifling. 

10.  And  why. 

1 1 .  Thirdly,  using  words  variously  is  tri- 
fling with  them. 

12.  Marks  of  verbal  propositions.  First, 
predication  in  abstract. 

13.  Secondly,  a  part  of  the  definition  pre- 
dicated of  any  term. 

CHAP.  IX. 
.    Of  our  knowledge  of  existence. 
Sect. 

1.  General  certain  propositions  concern 
not  existence. 

2.  A  threefold  knowledge  of  existence. 

3.  Our  knowledge  of  our  own  existence 
is  intuitive. 

CHAP.  X. 
Of  the  existence  of  a  God. 
Sect. 

1.  We  are  capable  of  knowing  certainly 
that  there  is  a  God. 

2.  Man  knows  that  he  himself  is. 

3.  He  knows  also,  that  nothing  cannot 
produce  a  being,  therefore  something 
eternal. 

4.  That  eternal   Being  must  be  most 

powerful. 

5.  And  most  knowing. 

6.  And  therefore  God. 

7.  Our  idea  of  a  most  perfect  being,  not 
the  sole  proof  of  a  God. 

8.  Something  from  eternity. 

9.  Two  sorts  of  beings,  cogitative  and 
incogitative. 


10.  Incogitative  being  cannot  produce  a. 
cogitative. 

11,12.  Therefore,  there  has  been  an  eter- 
nal wisdom. 

13.  Whether  material  or  no. 

14.  Not  material,  first,  because  every 
particle  of  matter  is  not  cogitative. 

15.  Secondly,  one  particle  alone  of  matter 
cannot  be  cogitative. 

16.  Thirdly,  a  system  of  incogitative 
matter  cannot  be  cogitative. 

17.  Whether  in  motion  or  at  rest. 

18.  19.  Matter  not  coeternal  with  an 
eternal  mind. 

CHAP.  XI. 
Of  the  knowledge  of  the  existence  of  other 

things. 
Sect. 

1.  Is  to  be  had  only  by  sensation. 

2.  Instance — Whiteness  of  this  paper. 

3.  This,  though  not  so  certain  as  demon- 
stration, yet  may  be  called  know- 
ledge, and  proves  the  existence  of 
things  without  us. 

4.  First,  because  we  cannot  have  them 
but  by  the  inlets  of  the  senses. 

5.  Secondly,  because  an  idea  from  actual 
sensation,  and  another  from  memory, 
are  very  distinct  perceptions. 

6.  Thirdly,  pleasure  or  pain,  which  ac- 
companies actual  sensation,  accom- 
panies not  the  returning  of  those 
ideas  without  the  external  objects. 

7.  Fourthly,  our  senses  assist  one  an- 
other's testimony  of  the  existence  of 
outward  things. 

8.  This  certainty  is  as  great  as  our  con- 
dition needs. 

9.  But  reaches  no  farther  than  actual 
sensation. 

10.  Folly  to  expect  demonstration  in 
every  thing. 

11.  Past  existence  is  known  by  memory. 

12.  The  existence  of  spirits  not  know- 
able. 

13.  Particular  propositions  concerning 
existence  are  knowable. 

14.  And  general  propositions  concerning 
abstract  ideas. 

CHAP.  XII. 
Of  the  improvement  of  our  knowledge . 
Sect. 

1.  Knowledge  is  not  from  maxims. 

2.  The  occasion  of  that  opinion. 

3.  But  from  the  comparing  clear  and 
distinct  ideas. 

4.  Dangerous  to  build  upon  precarious 
principles. 

5.  This  no  certain  way  to  truth. 

6.  But  to  compare  clear  complete  ideas 
under  steady  names. 


OONTENTfc. 


VII 


The  true  method  of  advancing  know- 
ledge, is  by  considering  our  abstract 
ideas. 

8.  By  which  morality  also  may  be  made 

clearer. 

9.  But  knowledge  of  bodies  is  to  be  im- 
proved only  by  experience. 

10.  This  may  procure  us  convenience, 
not  science. 

11.  We  are  fitted  for  moral  knowledge 
and  natural  improvements. 

13.  But  must  beware  of  hypotheses  and 
wrong  principles. 

13.  The  true  use  of  hypotheses. 

14.  Clear  and  distinct  ideas  with  settled 
names,  and  the  finding  of  those  which 
show  their  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment, are  the  ways  to  enlarge  our 
knowledge. 

15.  Mathematics  an  instance  of  it. 

CHAP.  XIII. 
Some  other  considerations  concerning  our 

knowledge. 
•Sect. 

1.  Our  knowledge  partly  necessary, 
partly  voluntary. 

2.  The  application  voluntary ;  but  we 
know  as  things  are,  not  as  we  please. 

3.  Instances  in  number,  and  in  natural 
religion. 

CHAP.  XIV. 
Of  judgment. 
Sect. 

1 .  Our  knowledge  being  short,  we  want 
something  else. 

2.  What  use  to  be  made  of  this  twilight 
estate. 

! .  .1  udgment  supplies  the  want  of  know- 
ledge. 
1.  Judgment  is  the  presuming  things  to 
bo  so,  without  perceiving  it. 
CHAP.  XV. 
Of  probability. 
.Sect. 

1.  Probability  is  the  appearance  of 
agreement  upon  fallible  proofs. 

2.  It  is  to  supply  the  want  of  knowledge. 

3.  Being  that  which  makes  us  presume 
things  to  be  true,  before  we  know 
them  to  be  so. 

t .  The  grounds  of  probability  are  two  ; 
conformity  with  our  own  experience, 
or  the  testimony  of  others'  experi- 
ence. 
5.  In  this  all  the  agreements,  pro  and 
con.,  ought  to  be  examined,  before 
we  come  to  a  judgment. 
'3.  They  being  capable  of  great  varictv. 
CHAP.  XVI. 
Of  the  degrees  of  assent. 
Sect. 

1.  Our  assent  ought  to  be  regulated  by 

the  grounds  of  probability. 

2.  These  cannot  be  always  all  actually 


in  view,  and  then  we  must  content 
ourselves  with  the  remembrance 
that  we  once  saw  ground  for  such  a 
degree  of  assent. 

3.  The  ill  consequence  of  this,  if  our  for- 
mer judgment  were  not  rightlymade. 

4.  The  right  use  of  it  is  mutual  charity 
and  forbearance. 

5.  Probability  is  either  of  matter  of  fact 
or  speculation. 

6.  The  concurrent  experience  of  all 
other  men  with  ours,  produces  assu- 
rance approaching  to  knowledge. 

7.  Unquestionable  testimony  and  expe- 
rience for  the  most  part  produce  con- 
fidence. 

8.  Fair  testimony,  and  the  nature  of  the 
thing  indifferent,  produces  also  con- 
fident belief. 

9.  Experience  and  testimonies  clashing, 

infinitely  vary  the  degrees  of  proba- 
bility. 

10.  Traditional  testimonies,  the  farther 
removed,  the  less  their  proof. 

11.  Yet  history  is  of  great  use. 

12.  In  things  which  sense  cannot  disco- 
ver, analogy  is  the  great  rule  of  pro- 
bability. 

13.  One  case  where  contrary  experience 
lessens  not  the  testimony. 

14.  The  bare  testimony  of  revelation  is 
the  highest  certainty. 

CHAP.  XVII. 
Of  reason. 
Sect. 

1.  Various  significations  of  the  word 
reason. 

2.  Wherein  reasoning  consists. 

3.  Its  four  parts. 

4.  Syllogism  not  the  great  instrument 
of  reason. 

5.  Helps  little  in  demonstration,  less  in 
probability. 

6.  Serves  not  to  increase  our  knowledge, 
but  fence  with  it. 

7.  Other  helps  should  be  sought. 

8.  We  reason  about  particulars. 

9.  First,  reason  fails  us  for  want  of 
ideas. 

10.  Secondly,  because  of  obscure  and  im- 
perfect ideas. 

11.  Thirdly,  for  want  of  intermediate 
ideas. 

12.  Fourthly,  because  of  wrong  princi- 
ples. 

13.  Fifthly,  because  of  doubtful  terms. 

14.  Our  highest  degree  of  knowledge  is 
intuitive  without  reasoning. 

15.  The  next  is  demonstration  by  reason- 
ing. 

16.  To  supply  the  narrowness  of  this,  we 
have  nothing  but  judgment  upon 
probable  reasoning. 

17.  Intuition,  demonstration,  judgment. 


via 


CONTENTS. 


18.  Consequences  of  words,  and  conse- 
quences of  ideas. 

19.  Four  sorts  of  arguments :  first,  Ad 
verecundiam. 

20.  Secondly,  Ad  ignorantiam. 

21.  Thirdly,  Ad  hominem. 

22.  Fourthly,  Ad  judicium. 

23.  Above,  contrary,  and  according  to 
reason. 

24.  Reason  and  faith  not  opposite. 

CHAP.  XVIII. 
Of  faith  and  reason,  and  their  distinct 

provinces. 
Sect. 

1.  Necessary  to  know  their  boundaries. 

2.  Faith  and  reason  what,  as  contradis- 
tinguished. 

3.  No  new  simple  idea  can  be  conveyed 
by  traditional  revelation. 

4.  Traditional  revelation  may  make  us 
know  propositions  knowable  also  by 
reason,but  not  with  the  same  certain- 
ty that  reason  doth. 

5.  Revelation  cannot  be  admitted  against 

the  clear  evidence  of  reason. 

6.  Traditional  revelation  much  less. 

7.  Things  above  reason. 

8.  Or  not  contrary  to  reason,  if  reveal- 
ed, are  matter  of  faith. 

9.  Revelation,  in  matters  where  reason 
cannot  judge,  or  but  probably,  ought 
to  be  hearkened  to. 

10.  In  matters  where  reason  can  afford 
certain  knowledge,  that  is  to  be 
hearkened  to. 

11.  If  the  boundaries  be  set  between 
faith  and  reason,  no  enthusiasm,  or 
extravagancy  in  religion,  can  be  con- 
tradicted. 

CHAP.  XIX. 
Of  enthusiasm. 
Sect. 

1 .  Love  of  truth  necessary. 

2.  A  forwardness  to  dictate,  whence. 

3.  Force  of  enthusiasm. 

4.  Reason  and  revelation. 

5.  Rise  of  enthusiasm. 
6,7.  Enthusiasm. 


8,9.  Enthusiasm  mistaken  for  seeing 
and  feeling. 

10.  Enthusiasm  how  to  be  discovered. 

11.  Enthusiasm  fails  of  evidence  that  the 
proposition  is  from  God. 

12.  Firmness  of  persuasion  no  proof  that 
any  proposition  is  from  God. 

13.  Light  in  the  mind,  what. 

14.  Revelation  must  be   judged  of  by 
reason. 

15.  16.  Belief  no  proof  of  revelation. 

CHAP.  XX. 
Of  wrong  assent,  or  error. 
Sect. 

1.  Causes  of  error. 

2.  First,  want  of  proofs. 

3.  Obj.  what  shall  become  of  those  who 
want  them,  answered. 

4.  People  hindered  from  inquiry. 

5.  Secondly,  want  of  skill  to  use  them. 

6.  Thirdly,  want  of  will  to  use  them. 

7.  Fourthly,  wrong  measures  of  proba- 
bility :  whereof. 

8-10.  First,  doubtful  propositions  taken 
from  principles. 

1 1.  Secondly,  received  hypotheses. 

12.  Thirdly,  predominant  passions. 

13.  The  means  of  evading  probabilities, 

1st,  Supposed  fallacy. 

14.  2dly,  supposed  arguments  for  the  con- 

trary. 

15.  What  probabilities  determine  the  as- 
sent. 

16.  Where  it  is  in  our  power  to  suspend 
it. 

17.  Fourthly,  authority. 

18.  Men  not  in  so  many  errors  as  is  ima- 
gined. 

CHAP.  XXI. 
Of  the  division  of  the  sciences. 
Sect. 

1.  Three  sorts. 

2.  First,  Physica. 

3.  Secondly,  Practica. 

4.  Thirdly,  2»uuam>t». 

5.  This  is  the  first  division  of  the  objects 
v    of  knowledge. 


ADDITIONAL  PIECES  IN  VOLUME  II. 


A  defence  of  Mr.  Locke's  opinion  concerning  personal  identity. 

Appendix  to  the  defence  of  Mr.  Locke's  opinion  concerning  personal  identity 

Of  the  conduct  of  the  understanding. 

Some  thoughts  concerning  reading  and  study  for  a  gentleman. 

Elements  of  natural  philosophy. 

\  new  method  of  a  common-place  book. 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 


BOOK  ID. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OF  PARTICLES. 
§   1.    PARTICLES  CONNECT  PARTS,  OP.  WHOLE  SENTENCES   TOGETHER. 

Besides  words  which  are  names  of  ideas  in  the  mind,  there 
are  a  great  many  others  that  are  made  use  of  to  signify  the  con- 
nexion that  the  mind  gives  to  ideas,  or  propositions,  one  with 
another.  The  mind,  in  communicating  its  thought  to  others, 
does  not  only  need  signs  of  the  ideas  it  has  then  before  it,  but 
others  also,  to  show  or  intimate  some  particular  action  of  its 
own,  at  that  time,  relating  to  those  ideas.  This  it  does  several 
ways;  as  is,  and  is  not,  are  the  general  marks  of  the  mind, 
affirming  or  denying.  But  besides  affirmation  or  negation,  with- 
out which  there  is  in  words  no  truth  or  falsehood,  the  mind  does, 
in  declaring  its  sentiments  to  others,  connect  not  only  the  parts 
of  propositions,  but  whole  sentences  one  to  another,  with  their 
several  relations  and  dependencies,  to  make  a  coherent  dis- 
course. 

§  2.    IN  THEM  CONSISTS  THE  ART  OF  WEEL  SPEAKING. 

The  words,  whereby  it  signifies  what  connexion  it  gives  to  the 
several  affirmations  and  negations,  that  it  unites  in  one  continued 
reasoning  or  narration,  are  generally  called  particles ;  and  it  is  in 
the  right  use  of  these  that  more  particularly  consists  the  clearness 
and  beauty  of  a  good  style.  To  think  well,  it  is  not  enough  that 
a  man  has  ideas  clear  and  distinct  in  his  thoughts,  nor  that  he 
observes  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  some  of  them  ;  but 
he  must  think  in  train,  and  observe  the  dependence  of  his 
thoughts  and  reasonings  upon  one  another.  And  to  express  well 
such  methodical  and  rational  thoughts,  he  must  have  words  to 
show  what  connexion,  restriction,  distinction,  opposition,  empha- 
sis, &c.  he  gives  to  each  respective  part  of  his  discourse.  To 
mistake  in  any  of  Chose,  is  to  puzzle,  instead  of  informing  his 

Vnr.   I|, 


tO  "i    P4KTICLES.  [booh  in. 

hearer  :  and  therefore  it  is  that  those  words  which  are  not  truly 
by  themselves  the  names  of  any  ideas,  are  of  such  constant  and 
indispensable  use  in  language,  and  do  much  contribute  to  men's 
well  expressing  themselves. 

§  3.    THEY  SHOW  WHAT    RELATION    THE    MIND    GIVES    TO    ITS    OWN 

THOUGHTS. 

This  part  of  grammar  has  been  perhaps  as  much  neglected,  as 
some  others  over-diligently  cultivated.  It  is  easy  for  men  to 
write,  one  after  another,  of  cases  and  genders,  moods  and  tenses, 
gerunds  and  supines :  in  these,  and  the  like,  there  has  been  great 
diligence  used;  and  particles  themselves,  in  some  languages, 
have  been,  with  great  show  of  exactness,  ranked  into  their  several 
orders.  But  though  prepositions  and  conjunctions,  &c.  are  names 
well  known  in  grammar,  and  the  particles  contained  under  them 
carefully  ranked  into  their  distinct  subdivisions  ;  yet  he  who 
would  show  the  right  use  of  particles,  and  what  significancy  and 
force  they  have,  must  take  a  little  more  pains,  enter  into  his  own 
thoughts,  and  observe  nicely  the  several  postures  of  his  mind 
in  discoursing. 

§4- 
Neither  is  it  enough,  for  the  explaining  of  these  words,  to 
render  them,  as  is  usual  in  dictionaries,  by  words  of  another 
tongue  which  come  nearest  to  their  signification  :  for  what  is 
meant  by  them  is  commonly  as  hard  to  be  understood  in  one  as 
another  language.  They  are  all  marks  of  some  action,  or  inti- 
mation of  the  mind  ;  and  therefore  to  understand  them  rightly, 
the  several  views,  postures,  stands,  turns,  limitations,  and  excep- 
tions, and  several  other  thoughts  of  the  mind,  for  which  we  have 
either  none,  or  very  deficient  names,  are  diligently  to  be  studied. 
Of  these  there  is  a  great  variety,  much  exceeding  the  number  of 
particles  that  most  languages  have  to  express  them  by  ;  and 
therefore  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  that  most  of  tkese  particles 
have  divers,  and  sometimes  almost  opposite  significations.  In 
the  Hebrew  tongue  there  is  a  particle,  consisting  of  but  one  sin- 
gle letter,  of  which  there  are  reckoned  up,  as  I  remember, 
seventy,  I  am  sure  above  fifty  several  significations. 

§  5.    INSTANCE  IN  BUT. 

But  is  a  particle,  none  more  familiar  in  our  language ;  and  he 
that  says  it  is  a  discretive  conjunction,  and  that  it  answers  sed  in 
Latin,  or  mats  in  French,  thinks  he  has  sufficiently  explained  it. 
But  it  seems  to  me  to  intimate  several  relations  the  mind  gives  to 
the  several  propositions  or  parts  of  them,  which  it  joins  by  this 
monosyllable. 

First,  "  but  to  say  no  more  :"  here  it  intimates  the  stop  of  the 
mind  in  the  course  it  was  going,  before  it  came  quite  to  the  end 
of  it. 


•  H.  VII. J  UP  I'.UITICLL.-,.  .  11 

Secondly,  u  T  saw  but  two  plants  :"  here  it  shows,  that  the 
mind  limits  the  sense  to  what  is  expressed,  with  a  negation  of  all 
other. 

Thirdly,  "you  pray  ;  but  it  is  not  that  God  would  bring  you 
to  the  true,  religio: ," 

Fourthly,  "  but  that  he  would  confirm  you  in  your  own." 
The  first  of  these  buts  intimates  a  supposition  in  the  mind  of 
something  otherwise  than  it  should  be  ;  the  latter  shows,  that  the 
mind  makes  a  direct  opposition  between  that,  and  what  goes 
before  it. 

Fiftnly,  "  all  animals  have  sense  ;  but  a  dog  is  an  animal  :" 
here  it  signifies  little  more,  but  that  the  latter  proposition  is  joined 
to  the  former,  as  the  minor  of  a  syllogism. 

§  6.     THIS   MATTER  BUT  LIGHTLY   TOUCHED  HERE. 

To  these,  I  doubt  not,  might  be  added  a  great  many  other  sig- 
nifications of  this  particle,  if  it  were  my  business  to  examine  it 
in  its  full  latitude,  and  consider  it  in  all  the  places  it  is  to  be 
found  :  which  if  one  should  do,  I  doubt  whether  in  all  those 
manners  it  is  made  use  of  it  would  deserve  the  title  of  discretive 
which  grammarians  give  to  it.  But  1  intend  not  here  a  full  expli- 
cation of  this  sort  of  signs.  The  instances  I  have  given  in  this 
one,  may  give  occasion  to  reflect  on  their  use  and  force  in  lan- 
guage, and  lead  us  into  the  contemplation  of  several  actions  of 
our  minds  in  discoursing,  which  it  has  found  a  way  to  intimate  to 
others  by  these  particles ;  some  whereof  constantly,  and  others 
in  certain  constructions,  have  the  sense  of  a  whole  sentence  con- 
tained in  them. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

OF  ABSTRACT  AND  CONCRETE   TERMb. 

§   1.  ABSTRACT  TERMS  NOT  PREDICABLE  ONE  OF  ANOTHER,  AND  WHV, 

The  ordinary  words  of  language,  and  our  common  use  of  them, 
would  have  given  us  light  into  the  nature  of  our  ideas,  if  they 
had  been  but  considered  with  attention.  The  mind,  as  has  been 
shown,  has  a  power  to  abstract  its  ideas,  and  so  they  become 
essences,  general  essences,  whereby  the  sorts  of  things  are  di-tin- 
guished.  Now  each  abstract  idea  being  distinct,  so  that  of  any 
two  the  one  can  never  be  the  other,  the  mind  will,  by  its  intui- 
tive knowledge,  perceive  their  difference;  and  therefore  in  propo- 
sitions no  two  whole  ideas  can  ever  be  affirmed  one  of  another. 
This  we  see  in  the  common  use  of  language,  which  permits  not 
any  two  abstract  words,  or  names  of  abstract  ideas,  to  be  affirmed 
^ne  of  another.     For  how  near  of  kin  soever  they  may  seem  to 


12  ABSTRACT  AND  CONCRETE  TERMS.  [BOOK  I1J. 

s 

be.  and  how  certain  soever  it  is,  that  man  is  an  animal,  or  rational, 
or  white,  yet  every  one  at  first  hearing  perceives  the  falsehood 
of  these  propositions ;  humanity  is  animality,  or  rationality,  or 
whiteness  :  and  this  is  as  evident  as  any  of  the  most  allowed 
maxims.  All  our  affirmations  then  are  only  inconcrete,  which  is 
the  affirming,  not  one  abstract  idea  to  be  another,  but  one  abstract 
idea  to  be  joined  to  another  ;  which  abstract  ideas,  in  substances, 
may  be  of  any  sort ;  in  all  the  rest,  are  little  else  but  of  relations  ; 
and  in  substances,  the  most  frequent  are  of  powers  ;  v.  g.  "a 
man  is  white,"  signifies,  that  the  thing  that  has  the  essence  of  a 
man,  has  also  in  it  the  essence  of  whiteness,  which  is  nothing  but 
a  power  to  produce  the  idea  of  whiteness  in  one,  whose  eyes  can 
discover  ordinary  objects  ;  or,  "  a  man  is  rational,"  signifies  that 
the  same  thing  that  hath  the  essence  of  a  man,  hath  also  in  it  the 
essence  of  rationality,  i.  e.  a  power  of  reasoning. 

§2.  THEV.  SHOW  THE  DIFFERENCE  OF  OUR  IDEAS. 

This  distinction  of  names  shows  us  also  the  difference  of  our 
ideas  :  for  if  we  observe  them,  we  shall  find  that  our  simple  ideas 
have  all  abstract  as  well  as  concrete  names  ;  the  one  whereof  is 
(to  speak  the  language  of  grammarians)  a  substantive,  the  other 
an  adjective  ;  as  whiteness,  white  ;  sweetness,  sweet.  The  like 
also  holds  in  our  ideas  of  modes  and  relations ;  as  justice,  just ; 
equality,  equal ;  only  with  this  difference,  that  some  of  the  con- 
crete names  of  relations,  among  men  chiefly,  are  substantives  ; 
as  paternitas,  pater;  whereof  it  were  easy  to  render  a  reason. 
But  as  to  our  ideas  of  substances,  we  have  very  few  or  no 
abstract  names  at  all.  For  though  the  schools  have  introduced 
animalitas,  humanitas,  corporietas,  and  some  others  ;  yet  they 
hold  no  proportion  with  that  infinite  number  of  names  of  sub- 
stances, to  which  they  never  were  ridiculous  enough  to  attempt 
the  coining  of  abstract  ones  :  and  those  few  that  the  schools 
forged,  and  put  into  the  mouths  of  their  scholars,  could  never 
yet  get  admittance  into  common  use,  or  obtain  the  license  of 
public  approbation.  Which  seems  to  me  at  least  to  intimate  the 
confession  of  all  mankind,  that  they  have  no  ideas  of  the  real 
essences  of  substances,  since  they  have  not  names  for  such  ideas  ; 
which  no  doubt  they  would  have  had,  had  not  their  conscious- 
ness to  themselves  of  their  ignorance  of  them  kept  them  from  so 
idle  an  attempt.  And  therefore,  though  they  had  ideas  enough  io 
distinguish  gold  from  a  stone,  and  metal  from  wood;  yet  they  but 
timorously  ventured  on  such  terms,  as  aurietas  and  saxietas,  me- 
tallietas  and  lignietas,  or  the  like  names,  which  should  pretend  to 
signify  the  real  essences  of  those  substances,  whereof  they  knew 
they  had  no  ideas.  And  indeed  it  was  only  the  doctrine  of  sub- 
stantial forms,  and  the  confidence  of  mistaken  pretenders  to  a 
knowledge  that  they  had  not,  which  first  coined,  and  then  intro- 
duced animalitas,  and  humanitas.  and  the  like  ;  which  yet  went 


i!.  iX.J  IMPERFECTION  OF  WORD*. 

very  little  farther  than  their  owii  schools,  and  could  never 
get  to  be  current  among  understanding  men.  Indeed,  huma- 
nitas  was  a  word  familiar  among  the  Romans,  but  in  a  far  differ- 
ent sense,  and  stood  not  for  the  abstract  essence  of  any  substance; 
but  was  the  abstracted  name  of  a  mode,  and  its  concrete  humanus, 
not  homo. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
OF  THE  IMPERFECTION  OF  WORD,-. 

§   1.    WORDS    ARE     USED  FOR  RECORDING  AND  COMMUNICATING   Otli 
THOUGHTS. 

From  what  has  been  said  in  the  foregoing  chapters,  it  is  easy 
to  perceive  what  imperfection  there  is  in  language,  and  how  the 
very  nature  of  words  makes  it  almost  unavoidable  for  many  of 
them  to  be  doubtful  and  uncertain  in  their  significations.  To 
examine  the  perfection  or  imperfection  of  words,  it  is  necessary 
first  to  consider  their  use  and  end  :  for  as  they  are  more  or  less 
fitted  to  attain  that,  so  are  they  more  or  less  perfect.  We  have, 
in  the  former  part  of  this  discourse,  often  upon  occasion  men- 
tioned a  double  use  of  words. 

First,  one  for  the  recording  of  our  own  thoughts. 

Secondly,  the  other  for  the  communicating  of  our  thoughts  to 
others. 

§  2.    ANY  WORDS  WILL  SERVE  FOR  RECORDING. 

As  to  the  first  of  these,  for  the  recording  our  own  thoughts  for 
the  help  of  our  own  memories,  whereby,  as  it  were,  we  talk  to 
ourselves,  any  words  will  serve  the  turn.  For  since  sounds  are 
voluntary  and  indifferent  signs  of  any  ideas,  a  man  may  use  what 
words  he  pleases,  to  signify  his  own  ideas  to  himself:  and  there 
will  be  no  imperfection  in  them,  if  he  constantly  use  the  same 
sign  for  the  same  idea  5  for  then  he  cannot  fail  of  having  his 
meaning  understood,  wherein  consists  the  right  use  and  perfection 
of  language. 

§  3.    COMMUNICATION  BY  WORDS  CIVIL  OR  PHILOSOPHICAL. 

Secondly,  as  to  communication  of  words,  that  too  has  a  double 
use. 

I.  Civil. 

II.  Philosophical* 

First,  by  their  civil  use,  I  mean  such  a  communication  of 
thoughts  and  ideas  by  words,  as  may  serve  for  the  upholding 
common  conversation  and  commerce,  about  the  ordinarv  affair 

Vol.  II.  3 


14  IMPERFECTION  OP  WORDS.  [BOO  K  tH, 

aud  conveniencies  of  civil  life,  in  the  societies  of  men  one  among 
another. 

Secondly,  by  the  philosophical  use  of  words,  I  mean  such  a 
tise  of  them  as  may  serve  to  convey  the  precise  notions  of  things, 
and  to  express,  in  general  propositions,  certain  and  undoubted 
truths,  which  the  mind  may  rest  upon,  and  be  satisfied  with,  in  its 
search  after  true  knowledge.  These  two  uses  are  very  distinct ; 
and  a  great  deal  less  exactness  will  serve  in  the  one  than  in  the 
other,  as  we  shall  see  in  what  follows. 

<S  4.    THE  IMPERFECTION  OF  WORDS  IS  THE  DOUBTFULNESS  OF  THEIR 
SIGNIFICATION. 

The  chief  end  of  language  in  communication  being  to  he 
understood,  words  serve  not  well  for  that  end,  neither  in  civil  nor 
philosophical  discourse,  when  any  word  does  not  excite  in  the 
nearer,  the  same  idea  which  it  stands  for  in  the  mind  of  the 
speaker.  Now  since  sounds  have  no  natural  connexion  with  our 
ideas,  but  have  all  their  signification  from  the  arbitrary  imposition 
of  men,  the  doubtfulness  and  uncertainty  of  their  signification, 
which  is  the  imperfection  we  here  are  speaking  of,  has  its  cause 
more  in  the  ideas  they  stand  for,  than  in  any  incapacity  there  is  in 
one  sound  more  than  in  another,  to  signify  any  idea  :  for  in  that 
regard  they  are  all  equally  perfect. 

That  then  which  makes  doubtfulness  and  uncertainty  in  the 
signification  of  some  more  than  other  words,  is  the  difference  of 
ideas  they  stand  for, 

§  5.    CAUSES  OF  THEIR  IMPERFECTION. 

Words  having  naturally  no  signification,  the  idea  which  each 
stands  for  must  be  learned  and  retained  by  those  who  would 
exchange  thoughts,  and  hold  intelligible  discourse  with  others  in 
any  language.     But  this  is  hardest  to  be  done  where, 

First,  the  ideas  they  stand  for  are  very  complex,  and  made  up 
of  a  great  number  of  ideas  put  together. 

Secondly,  where  the  ideas  they  stand  for  have  no  certain  con- 
nexion in  nature;  and  so  no  settled  standard,  any  where  in  nature 
existing,  to  rectify  and  adjust  them  by. 

Thirdly,  when  the  signification  of  the  word  is  referred  to  a 
standard,  which  standard  is  not  easy  to  be  known. 

Fomthly,  where  the  signification  of  the  word,  and  the  real 
essence  of  the  thing,  are  not  exactly  the  same. 

These  are  difficulties  that  attend  the  signification  of  several 
words  that  are  intelligible.  Those  which  are  not  intelligible 
at  all,  such  as  names  standing  for  any  simple  ideas,  which  another 
has  not  organs  or  faculties  to  attain, — as  the  names  of  colours 
to  a  blind  man,  or  sounds  to  a  deaf  man, — need  not  here  be 
mentioned. 

In  all  these  cases  we  shall  find  an  imperfection  in  words,  which 
I  shall  more  at  large  explain,  in  their  particular  application  to 


•   it.  IX. j  IMPERFECTION1   OP    WORDs. 

our  several  aorta  of  ideas  :  for  if  we  examine  them,  wc  shall  find 
that  the  names  of  mixed  modes  are  most  liable  to  doubtfulness 
and  imperfection,  for  the  two  first  of  these  reasons ;  and  the 
names  of  substances  chiefly  for  the  two  latter. 

§  6.    THE  NAMES  OF  MIXED  MODES  DOt'BTFl'I. . 

First,  the  names  of  mixed  modes  are  many  of  them  liable  to 
great  uncertainty  and  obscurity  in  their  signification. 

ITRST,  BECAUSE  THE  IDEAS  THEY  STAND  FOR  ARE  SO  COMPLEX. 

I.  Because  of  that  great  composition  these  complex  ideas  are 
often  made  up  of.     To  make  words  serviceable  to  the  end  of 
communication,  it  is  necessary  (as  has  been  said)  that  they  excite- 
in  the  hearer  exactly  the  same  idea  they  stand  for  in  the  mind  of 
the  speaker.     Without  this,  men  fill  one  another's  heads  with 
noise  and  sounds  ;  but  convey  not  thereby  their  thoughts,  and  lay 
not  before  one  another  their  ideas,  which  is  the  end  of  discourse 
and  language.     But  when  a  word  stands  for  a  very  complex  idea 
that  is  compounded  and  decompounded,  it  is  not  easy  for  men 
to  form  and  retain  that  idea  so  exactly  as  to  make  the  name  in 
common  use  stand  for  the  same  precise  idea,  without  any  the 
least  variation.     Hence  it  comes  to  pass,  that  men's  names  of 
very  compound  ideas,  such  as  for  the  most  part  are  moral  words, 
have  seldom,  in  two  different  men,  the  same  precise  signification ; 
since  one  man's  complex  idea  seldom  agrees  with  another's,  and 
often  differs  from  his  own,  from  that  which  he  had  yesterday,  or 
will  have  to-morrow. 

*S  7.  SECONDLY,  BECAUSE  THEY  HATE  NO  STANDARDS. 

II.  Because  the  names  of  mixed  modes,  for  the  most  part, want 
.standards  in  nature,  whereby  men  may  rectify  and  adjust  their 
significations  ;  therefore  they  are  very  various  and  doubtful. 
They  are  assemblages  of  ideas  put  together  at  the  pleasure  of  the 
mind,  pursuing  its  own  ends  of  discourse,  and  suited  to  its  own 
notions  ;  whereby  it  designs  not  to  copy  any  thing  really  existing, 
but  to  denominate  and  rank  things,  as  they  come  to  agree  with 
those  archetypes  or  forms  it  has  made.  He  that  first  brought  the 
word  sham,  or  wheedle,  or  banter,  in  use,  put  together,  as  he 
thought  fit,  those  ideas  he  made  it  stand  for  ;  and  as  it  is  with  any 
new  names  of  modes,  that  are  now  brought  into  any  language,  so 
it  was  with  the  old  ones,  when  they  were  first  made  use  of. 
Names  therefore  that  stand  for  collections  of  ideas  which  the 
mind  makes  at  pleasure,  must  needs  be  of  doubtful  signification, 
when  such  collections  are  nowhere  to  be  found  constantly  united 
in  nature,  nor  any  patterns  to  be  shown  whereby  men  may  adjust 
them.  What  the  word  murder,  or  sacrilege,  &c.  signifies,  can 
never  be  known  from  things  themselves  :  there  be  many  of  the 
parts  of  those  complex  ideas  which  are  not  visible  in  the  action 
itself;  the  intention  of  the  mind,  or  the  relation  of  holy  things. 


16  IMPERFECTION  OF  WORDS.  [BOOK   II  r, 

which  make  a  part  of  murder  or  sacrilege,  have  no  necessray 
connexion  with  the  outward  and  visible  action  of  him  that  com- 
mits either :  and  the  pulling  the  trigger  of  the  gun,  with  which  the 
murder  is  committed,  and  is  all  the  action  that  perhaps  is  visible, 
has  no  natural  connexion  with  those  other  ideas  that  make  up  the 
complex  one,  named  murder.  They  have  their  union  and  com- 
bination only  from  the  understanding,  which  unites  them  under 
one  name  :  but  uniting  them  without  any  rule  or  pattern,  it  can- 
not be  but  that  the  signification  of  the  name  that  stands  for  such 
voluntary  collections  should  be  often  various  in  the  minds  of  dif- 
ferent men,  who  have  scarce  any  standing  rule  to  regulate  them- 
selves and  their  notions  by,  in  such  arbitrary  ideas. 

§  8.  PROPRIETY  NOT  A  SUFFICIENT  REMEDY. 

It  is  true,  common  use,  that  is  the  rule  of  propriety,  may  be 
supposed  here  to  afford  some  aid,  to  settle  the  signification  of 
language  ;  and  it  cannot  be  denied  but  that  in  some  measure  it 
does.  Common  use  regulates  the  meaning  of  words  pretty  well 
for  common  conversation  ;  but  nobody  having  an  authority  to 
establish  the  precise  signification  of  words,  nor  determine  to  what 
ideas  any  one  shall  annex  them,  common  use  is  not  sufficient  to 
adjust  them  to  philosophical  discourses  5  there  being  scarce  any 
name  of  any  very  complex  idea  (to  say  nothing  of  others)  which 
in  common  use  has  not  a  great  latitude,  and  which,  keeping 
within  the  bounds  of  propriety,  may  not  be  made  the  sign  of  far 
different  ideas.  Besides,  the  rule  and  measure  of  propriety 
itself  being  nowhere  established,  it  is  often  matter  of  dispute 
whether  this  or  that  way  of  using  a  word  be  propriety  of  speech 
or  no.  From  all  which  it  is  evident,  that  the  names  of  such  kind 
of  very  complex  ideas  are  naturally  liable  to  this  imperfection,  to 
'be  of  doubtful  and  uncertain  signification  ;  and  even  in  men  that 
have  a  mind  to  understand  one  another,  do  not  always  stand  for 
the  same  idea  in  speaker  and  hearer.  Though  the  names  glory 
and  gratitude  be  the  same  in  every  man's  mouth  through  a  whole 
country,  yet  the  complex  collective  idea,  which  every  one  thinks 
on,  or  intends  by  that  name,  is  apparently  very  different  in  men 
using  the  same  language. 

C  9.  THE  WAY  OF  LEARNING  THESE  NAMES  CONTRIBUTES  ALSO  TO  THEIR 
DOUBTFULNESS. 

The  way  also  wherein  the  names  of  mixed  modes  are  ordinarily 
learned,  does  not  a  little  contribute  to  the  doubtfulness  of  their 
signification.  For  if  we  will  observe  how  children  learn 
languages,  we  shall  find  that  to  make  them  understand  what  the 
names  of  simple  ideas,  or  substances,  stand  for,  people  ordinarily 
^how  them  the  thing,  whereof  they  would  have  them  have  the 
idea  ;  and  then  repeat  to  them  the  name  that  stands  for  it,  as 
white,  sweet,  milk,  sugar,  cat,  dog.  But  as  for  mixed  mode?, 
especially  the  most  material  of  them,  moral  words,  the  sounds  arc 


.H.IX.j  i>irERFECTlO.\  OF   \V0Rt)5.  17 

usually  learned  first ;  and  then  to  know  what  complex  ideas  they 
stand  for,  they  are  either  beholden  to  the  explication  of  others,  or 
(which  happens  for  the  most  part)  are  left  to  their  own  observa- 
tion and  industry  ;  which  being  little  laid  out  in  the  search  of  the 
true  and  precise  meaning  of  names,  these  moral  words  are  in 
most  men's  mouths  little  more  than  bare  sounds ;  or  when  they 
have  any,  it  is  for  the  most  part  but  a  very  loose  and  undeter- 
mined, and  consequently  obscure  and  confused  signification.  And 
even  those  themselves,  who  have  with  more  attention  settled 
their  notions,  do  yet  hardly  avoid  the  inconvenience,  to  have 
them  stand  for  complex  ideas,  different  from  those  which  other, 
even  intelligent  and  studious  men,  make  them  the  signs  of. 
Where  shall  one  find  any,  either  controversial  debate,  or  familiar 
discourse,  concerning  honour,  faith,  grace,  religion,  church, 
&c.  wherein  it  is  not  easy  to  observe  the  different  notions  men 
have  of  them  ?  which  is  nothing  but  this,  that  they  are  not 
agreed  in  the  signification  of  those  words,  nor  have  in  their 
minds  the  same  complex  ideas  which  they  make  them  stand  for : 
and  so  all  the  contests  that  follow  thereupon  are  only  about  the 
meaning  of  a  sound.  And  hence  we  see,  that  in  the  interpreta- 
tion of  laws,  whether  divine  or  human,  there  is  no  end  ;  com- 
ments beget  comments,  and  explications  make  new  matter  for 
explications  ;  and  of  limiting,  distinguishing,  varying  the  signifi- 
cation of  these  moral  words,  there  is  no  end.  These  ideas  of 
men's  making  are,  by  men  still  having  the  same  power,  multi- 
plied in  infinitum.  Many  a  man  who  was  pretty  well  satisfied  of 
ihc  meaning  of  a  text  of  scripture,  or  clause  in  the  code,  at  first 
reading,  has  by  consulting  commentators  quite  lost  the  sense  of  it, 
and  by  these  elucidations  given  rise  or  increase  to  his  doubts,  and 
drawn  obscurity  upon  the  place.  I  say  not  this,  that  I  think 
commentaries  needless  ;  but  to  show  how  uncertain  the  names  of 
mixed  modes  naturally  are,  even  in  the  mouths  of  those  who  had 
both  the  intention  and  the  faculty  of  speaking  as  clearly  as 
language  was  capable  to  express  their  thoughts. 

§  10.  HENCE  UNAVOIDABLE  OBSCURITY  IN  ANCIENT  AUTHORS. 

What  obscurity  this  has  unavoidably  brought  upon  the  writings 
of  men,  who  have  lived  in  remote  ages  and  different  countries,  it 
will  be  needless  to  take  notice  ;  since  the  numerous  volumes  of 
learned  men,  employing  their  thoughts  that  way,  are  proofs  more 
than  enough  to  show  what  attention,  study,  sagacity,  and  reason- 
ing are  required,  to  find  out  the  true  meaning  of  ancient  authors. 
But  there  being  no  writings  we  have  any  great  concernment  to  be 
very  solicitous  about  the  meaning  of,  but  those  that  contain 
either  truths  we  are  required  to  believe,  or  laws  we  are  to  obey, 
and  draw  inconveniences  on  us  when  we  mistake  or  transgress ; 
we  may  be  less  anxious  about  the  sense  of  other  authors,  who 
writing  but  their  own  opinion?,  we  are  under  nogreater  necessity  to 


18  IMPERFECTfON  OF  WORDS.  [BOOK  1IJ. 

know  them  than  they  to  know  ours.  Our  good  or  evil  depend- 
ing not  on  their  decrees,  we  may  safely  be  ignorant  of  their 
notions :  and  therefore,  in  the  reading  of  them,  if  they  do  not 
use  their  words  with  a  due  clearness  and  perspicuity,  we  may 
lay  them  aside,  and,  without  any  injury  done  them,  resolve  thus 
with  ourselves  : 

"  Si  non  vis  intelligi,  debes  negligi." 

§   11.   NAMES  OF   SUBSTANCES  OF  DOUBTFUL  SIGNIFICATION. 

If  the  signification  of  the  names  of  mixed  modes  are  uncertain, 
because  there  be  no  real  standards  existing  in  nature  to  which 
those  ideas  are  referred,  and  by  which  they  may  be  adjusted  ; 
the  names  of  substances  are  of  a  doubtful  signification,  for  a  con- 
trary reason,  viz.  because  the  ideas  they  stand  for  are  supposed 
conformable  to  the  reality  of  things,  and  are  referred  to  standards 
made  by  nature.  In  our  ideas  of  substances,  we  have  not  the 
liberty,  as  in  mixed  modes,  to  frame  what  combinations  we  think 
tit,  to  be  the  characteristical  notes  to  rank  and  denominate  things 
by.  In  these  we  must  follow  nature,  suit  our  complex  ideas  to 
real  existences,  and  regulate  the  signification  of  their  names  by 
the  things  themselves,  if  we  will  have  our  names  to  be  the  signs  of 
them,  and  stand  for  them.  Here,  it  is  true,  we  have  patterns  to 
follow,  but  patterns  that  will  make  the  signification  of  their  names 
very  uncertain;  for  names  must  be  of  a  very  unsteady  and  vari- 
ous meaning,  if  the  ideas  they  stand  for  be  referred  to  standards 
without  us,  that  either  cannot  be  known  at  all,  or  can  be  known 
but  imperfectly  and  uncertainly. 

§   12.  NAMES    OF  SUBSTANCES   REFERRED,    1.     TO    REAL  ESSENCES    THAT 
CANNOT  BE  KNOWN. 

The  names  of  substances  have,  as  has  been  shown,  a  double 
r-eference  in  their  ordinary  use. 

First,  sometimes  they  are  made  to  stand  for,  and  so  their  signi- 
cation  is  supposed  to  agree  to,  the  real  constitution  of  things, 
from  which  all  their  properties  flow,  and  in  which  they  all  centre. 
But  this  real  constitution,  (or  as  it  is  apt  to  be  called)  essence, 
being  utterly  unknown  to  us,  any  sound  that  is  put  to  stand  for 
it  must  be  very  uncertain  in  its  application  ;  and  it  will  be  impos- 
sible to  know  what  things  are,  or  ought  to  be  called  a  horse,  or 
anatomy,  when  those  words  are  put  for  real  essences  that  we  have 
no  ideas  of  at  all.  And  therefore,  in  this  supposition,  the  names 
of  substances  being  referred  to  standards  that  cannot  be  known, 
their  significations  can  never  be  adjusted  and  established  by  those 
standards. 

§   13.    2.    TO  COEXISTING  QUALITIES,  WHICH  ARE  KNOWN  BUT   IMPER- 
FECTLY. 

Secondly,  the  simple  ideas  that  are  found  to  coexist  in 
substances  being  that  which  their  names  immediately  signify. 


.  u.   IX.]  IMPERFECTION  OV  WORD3.  19 

these,  as  united  in  the  several  sorts  of  things,  are  the  proper 
standards  to  which  their  names  are  referred,  and  by  which  their 
significations  may  be  best  rectified.  But  neither  will  these  arche- 
types so  well  serve  this  purpose,  as  to  leave  these  names 
without  very  various  and  uncertain  significations:  because  these 
simple  ideas  that  coexist,  and  are  united  in  the  same  subject, 
being  very  numerous,  and  having  all  an  equal  right  to  go  into  the 
complex  specific  idea,  which  the  specific  name  is  to  stand  for  ; 
men,  though  they  propose  to  themselves  the  very  same  sub- 
ject to  consider,  yet  frame  very  different  ideas  about  it  ;  and  so 
the  name  they  use  for  it  unavoidably  comes  to  have,  in  several 
men,  very  different  significations.  The  simple  qualities  which 
make  up  the  complex  ideas,  being  most  of  them  powers,  in 
relation  to  changes,  which  they  are  apt  to  make  in,  or  receive 
from,  other  bodies,  are  almost  infinite.  He  that  shall  but  observe 
what  a  great  variety  of  alterations  any  one  of  the  baser  metals  is 
apt  to  receive  from  the  different  application  only  of  fire  ;  and 
how  much  a  greater  number  of  changes  any  of  them  will  receive 
in  the  hands  of  a  chymist,  by  the  application  of  other  bodies  ; 
will  not  think  it  strange  that  I  count  the  properties  of  any  sort; 
of  bodies  not  easy  to  be  collected,  and  completely  known  by  the 
ways  of  inquiry,  which  our  faculties  are  capable  of.  They  being 
therefore  at  least  so  many  that  no  man  can  know  the  precise  and 
definite  number,  they  are  differently  discovered  by  different  men, 
according  to  their  various  skill,  attention,  and  ways  of  handling; 
who  therefore  cannot  choose  but  have  different  ideas  of  the  same 
substance,  and  therefore  make  the  signification  of  its  common 
name  very  various  and  uncertain.  For  the  complex  ideas  of  sub- 
stances being  made  up  of  such  simple  ones  as  are  supposed  to 
coexist  in  nature,  every  one  has  a  right  to  put  into  his  complex 
idea  those  qualities  he  has  found  to  be  united  together.  For 
though  in  the  substance  of  gold  one  satisfies  himself  with  colour 
and  weight,  yet  another  thinks  solubility  in  aq.  regia  as  necessary 
to  be  joined  with  that  colour  in  his  idea  of  gold  as  any  one  does 
its  fusibility  ;  solubility  in  aq.  regia  being  a  quality  as  constantly 
joined  withits  colour andweight, as  fusibility,  or  any  other ;  others 
put  in  its  ductility  or  fixedness,  &c.  as  they  have  been  taught  by 
tradition  or  experience.  Who  of  all  these  has  established  the 
right  signification  of  the  word  gold  ?  or  who  shall  be  the  judge  to 
determine  ?  Each  has  its  standard  in  nature,  which  he  appeals  to; 
and  with  reason  thinks  he  has  the  same  right  to  put  into  his  com- 
plex idea,  signified  by  the  word  gold,  those  qualities  which  upon 
trial  he  has  found  united,  as  another,  who  has  not  so  well 
examined,  has  to  leave  them  out ;  or  a  third,  who  has  made  other 
I  rials,  has  to  put  in  others.  For  the  union  in  nature  of  these 
qualities  being  the  true  ground  of  their  union  in  one  complex  idea, 
who  can  say,  one  of  them  has  more  reason  to  be  put  in,  or  left 
out,  than  another  ?  From  hence  it  will  always  unavoidably  follow : 
that  the  complex  ideas  of  substances,  in  men  using  the  snui<  nam* 


20  IMPERFECTION  OF  WORDS.  [BOOK  III- 

for  them,  will  be  very  various  ;  and  so  the  significations  of  those 
names  very  uncertain. 

§   14.    3.    TO  COEXISTING  QUALITIES  WHICH  ARE  KNOWN  BUT  IMPER- 
FECTLY. 

Besides,  there  is  scarce  any  particular  thing  existing,  which,  in 
some  of  its  simple  ideas,  does  not  communicate  with  a  greater, 
and  in  others  a  less  number  of  particular  beings :  who  shall 
determine,  in  this  case,  which  are  those  that  are  to  make  up  the 
precise  collection  that  is  to  be  signified  by  the  specific  name  ;  or 
can,  with  any  just  authority,  prescribe  which  obvious  or  common 
qualities  are  to  be  left  out;  or  which  more  secret,  or  more  parti- 
cular are  to  be  put  into  the  signification  of  the  name  of  any  sub- 
stance ?  All  which  together  seldom  or  never  fail  to  produce  that 
various  and  doubtful  signification  in  the  names  of  substances, 
which  causes  such  uncertainty,  disputes,  or  mistakes,  when  we 
come  to  a  philosophical  use  of  them. 

§  15.    WITH  THIS  IMPERFECTION,  THEY  MAY  SERVE  FOR  CIVIL,  BUT  NOT 
WELL  FOR  PHILOSOPHICAL  USE. 

It  is  true,  as  to  civil  and  common  conversation,  the  general 
names  of  substances,  regulated  in  their  ordinary  signification  by 
some  obvious  qualities,  (as  by  the  shape  and  figure  in  things  of 
known  seminal  propagation,  and  in  other  substances,  for  the  most 
part,  by  colour,  joined  with  some  other  sensible  qualities)  do  well 
enough  to  design  the  things  men  would  be  understood  to  speak 
of;  and  so  they  usually  conceive  well  enough  the  substances 
meant  by  the  word  gold,  or  apple,  to  distinguish  the  one  from  the 
other.  But  in  philosophical  inquiries  and  debates,  where  general 
truths  are  to  be  established,  and  consequences  drawn  from  posi- 
tions laid  down — there  the  precise  signification  of  the  names  of 
substances  will  be  found,  not  only  not  to  be  well  established,  but 
also  very  hard  to  be  so.  For  example,  he  .that  shall  make  mal- 
leableness,  or  a  certain  degree  of  fixedness,  a  part  of  his  complex 
idea  of  gold,  may  make  propositions  concerning  gold,  and  draw 
consequences  from  them,  that  will  truly  and  clearly  follow  from 
gold,  taken  in  such  a  signification  ;  but  yet  such  as  another  man 
can  never  be  forced  to  admit,  nor  be  convinced  of  their  truth, 
who  makes  not  malleableness,  or  the  same  degree  of  fixedness, 
part  of  that  complex  idea,  that  the  name  gold,  in  his  use  of  it, 
stands  for. 

§   16.    INSTANCE  LIQUOR. 

This  is  a  natural,  and  almost  unavoidable  imperfection  in 
almost  all  the  names  of  substances,  in  all  languages  whatsoever, 
which  men  will  easily  find,  when  once  passing  from  confused  or 
loose  notions,  they  come  to  more  strict  and  close  inquiries  :  for 
then  they  will  be  convinced  how  doubtful  and  obscure  those 
words  are  in  their  signification,  which  in  ordinary  use  appeared 


i  H.  IX. j  IMPERFECTION  OF   WORD--.. 

very  clear  and  determined.  I  was  once  in  a  meeting  of  very 
learned  and  ingenious  physicians,  where  by  chance  there  arose  & 
question,  whether  any  liquor  passed  through  the  filaments  of  the 
nerves.  The  debate  having  been  managed  a  good  while,  by 
variety  of  arguments  on  both  sides,  I  (who  had  been  used  to 
suspect  that  the  greatest  parts  of  disputes  were  more  about  the 
signification  of  words  than  a  real  difference  in  the  conception  of 
things)  desired,  that  before  they  went  any  farther  on  in  this  dis- 
pute, they  would  first  examine,  and  establish  among  them,  what 
the  word  liquor  signified.  They  at  first  were  a  little  surprised 
at  the  proposal ;  and  had  they  been  persons  less  ingenious,  they 
might  perhaps  have  taken  it  for  a  very  frivolous  or  extravagant 
one  ;  since  there  was  no  one  there  that  thought  not  himself  to 
understand  very  perfectly  what  the  word  liquor  stood  for  ;  which 
1  think,  too,  none  of  the  most  perplexed  names  of  substances. 
However,  they  were  pleased  to  comply  with  my  motion  ;  and, 
upon  examination,  found  that  the  signification  of  that  word  was 
not  so  settled  and  certain  as  they  had  all  imagined,  but  that  each 
of  thorn  made  it  a  sign  of  a  different  complex  idea,  This  made 
them  perceive  that  the  main  of  their  dispute  was  about  the  signi- 
fication of  that  term;  and  that  they  differed  very  little  in  their 
opinions  concerning  some  fluid  and  subtile  matter  passing 
through  the  conduits  of  the  nerves ,  though  it  was  not  so  easy 
to  agree  whether  it  was  to  be  called  liquor  or  no — a  thing 
which,  when  considered,  they  thought  it  not  worth  the  contending 
about. 

§    17.    INSTANCE  COLD. 

I  low  much  this  is  the  case  in  the  greatest  part  of  disputes  that 
men  are  engaged  so  hotly  in,  I  shall  perhaps  have  an  occasion  in 
another  place  to  take  notice.  Let  us  only  here  consider  a  little 
more  exactly  the  fore-mentioned  instance  of  the  word  gold,  and 
we  shall  see  how  hard  it  is  precisely  to  determine  its  signification. 
I  think  all  agree  to  make  it  stand  for  a  body  of  a  certain  yellow 
shining  colour;  which  being  the  idea  to  which  children  have 
annexed  that  name,  the  shining  yellow  part  of  a  peacock's  tail  is 
properly  to  them  gold.  Others  finding  fusibility,  joined  with  that 
yellow  colour  in  certain  parcels  of  matter,  make  of  that  combi- 
nation a  complex  idea,  to  which  they  give  the  name  gold,  to 
denote  a  sort  of  substances  ;  and  so  exclude  from  being  gold  all 
such  yellow  shining  bodies,  as  by  fire  will  be  reduced  to  ashes  3 
and  admit  to  be  of  that  species,  or  to  be  comprehended  under 
that  name  gold,  only  such  substances,  as  having  that  shining  yel- 
low colour,  will  by  fire  be  reduced  to  fusion,  and  not  to  ashes. 
Another,  by  the  same  reason,  adds  the  weight ;  which  being  a 
quality  as  straitly  joined  with  that  colour  as  its  fusibility,  he  thinks 
has  the  same  reason  to  be  joined  in  its  idea,  and  to  he  signified 
by  its  name  ;  and  therefore  the  other  made  up  of  body,  of  such 
a  colour  and   fusibility,  to  be  imperfect :  and  so  on  of  all   tlv 

Vol.  II-  i 


;j  KMl'ERFKCTIOJs   Of   WORDS.  [BOOK  ii<. 

rest :  wherein  no  one  can  show  a  reason  why  some  of  the  inse- 
parable qualities,  that  are  always  united  in  nature,  should  be  put 
into  the  nominal  essence,  and  others  left  out;  or  why  the  word 
gold,  signifying  that  sort  of  body  the  ring  on  his  finger  is  made  of, 
should  determine  that  sort,  rather  by  its  colour,  weight,  and  fusi- 
bility, than  by  its  colour,  weight,  and  solubility  in  aq.  regia :  since 
the  dissolving  it  by  that  liquor  is  as  inseparable  from  it  as  the 
fusion  by  fire  ;  and  they  are  both  of  them  nothing  but  the  relation 
which  that  substance  has  to  two  other  bodies,  which  have  a  power 
to  operate  differently  upon  it.  For  by  what  right  is  it  that  fusi- 
bility comes  to  be  a  part  of  the  essence  signified  by  the  word 
gold,  and  solubility  but  a  property  of  it ;  or  why  is  its  colour 
part  of  the  essence,  and  its  malleableness  but  a  property  ?  That 
which  I  mean  is  this  :  That  these  being  all  but  properties  depend- 
ing on  its  real  constitution,  and  nothing  but  powers,  either  active 
or  passive,  in  reference  to  other  bodies  ;  no  one  has  authority  to 
determine  the  signification  of  the  word  gold  (as  referred  to  such 
n  body  existing  in  nature)  more  to  one  collection  of  ideas  to  be 
found  in  that  body  than  to  another  :  whereby  the  signification  of 
that  name  must  unavoidably  be  very  uncertain ;  since,  as  has 
been  said,  several  people  observe  several  properties  in  the  same 
substance;  and,  I  think,  I  may  say  nobody  at  all.  And  therefore 
we  have  but  very  imperfect  descriptions  of  things,  and  words 
have  very  uncertain  significations. 

6  18.  THE  NAMES  OF  SIMPLE  IDEAS  THE  LEAST  DOUBTFUL. 

From  what  has  been  said,  it  is  easy  to  observe  what  has  been 
before  remarked,  viz.  That  the  names  of  simple  ideas  are,  of  all 
others,  the  least  liable  to  mistakes,  and  that  for  these  reasons. 
First,  because  the  ideas  they  stand  for,  being  each  but  one  single 
perception,  are  much  easier  got,  and  more  clearly  retained,  than 
the  more  complex  ones  ;  and  therefore  are  not  liable  to  the  uncer- 
tainty which  usually  attends  those  compounded  ones  of  sub- 
stances and  mixed  modes,  in  which  the  precise  number  of  simple 
ideas,  that  make  them  up,  are  not  easily  agreed,  and  so  readily 
kept  in  the  mind  :  and  secondly,  because  they  are  never  referred 
to  any  other  essence,  but  barely  that  perception  they  immediately 
signify  ;  which  reference  is  that  which  renders  the  signification 
of  the  names  of  substances  naturally  so  perplexed,  and  gives  occa- 
sion to  so  many  disputes.  Men  that  do  not  perversely  use  then 
words,  or  on  purpose  set  themselves  to  cavil,  seldom  mistake,  in 
any  language  which  they  are  acquainted  with,  the  use  and  signi- 
fy ation  of  the  names  of  simple  ideas:  white  and  sweet,  yellow 
and  bitter,  carry  a  very  obvious  meaning  with  them,  which  every- 
one precisely  comprehends,  or  easily  perceives  he  is  ignorant  of, 
and  seeks  to  be  informed.  But  what  precise  collection  of  simple 
ideas  modesty  or  frugality  stand  for  in  another's  use,  is  not  so 
certainly  known.  And  however  we  are  apt  to  think  we  avi-11 
nougn  know  what  ie  meant  by  gold  or  iron;  yet  theprecisi 


GET,  IX.]  IMPERFECTION  OF   WOHDS.  23 

complex  idea  others  make  them  the  signs  of,  is  not  so  certain  ; 
and  I  believe  it  is  very  seldom  that,  in  speaker  and  hearer,  they 
stand  for  exactly  the  same  collection  :  which  must  needs  produce 
mistakes  and  disputes,  when  they  arc  made  use  of  in  discourses, 
wherein  men  have  to  do  with  universal  propositions,  and  would 
6ettle  in  their  minds  universal  truths,  and  consider  the  con- 
sequences that  follow  from  them. 

§   19.     AND  NEXT  TO  THEM,  SIMPLE  MOOES. 

By  the  same  rule,  the  names  of  simple  modes  are,  next  to  those 
of  simple  ideas,  least  liable  to  doubt  and  uncertainty,  especially 
those  of  figure  and  number,  of  which  men  have  so  clear  and  dis- 
tinct ideas.  Who  ever,  that  had  a  mind  to  understand  them,  mis- 
took the  ordinary  meaning  of  seven,  or  a  triangle  ?  And  in  general 
the  least  compounded  ideas  in  every  kind  have  the  least  dubious 
names. 

§   20.    THE    MOST    DOUBTFUL    ARE    THE    NAMES    OF     VERY    COMPOUNDED 
MIXED  MODES  AND  SUBSTANCES. 

Mixed  modes,  therefore,  that  are  made  up  but  of  a  few  and 
obvious  simple  ideas,  have  usually  names  of  no  very  uncertain 
signification  ;  but  the  names  of  mixed  modes,  which  comprehend 
a  great  number  of  simple  ideas,  are  commonly  of  a  very  doubt- 
ful and  undetermined  meaning,  as  has  been  shown.  The  names 
of  substances,  being  annexed  to  ideas  that  are  neither  the  real 
essences  nor  exact  representations  of  the  patterns  they  are 
referred  to,  are  liable  yet  to  greater  imperfection  and  uncertainty, 
especially  when  we  come  to  a  philosophical  use  of  them. 

§  21.    WHY  THIS  IMPERFECTION  CHARGED  UPON  WORDS. 

The  great  disorder  that  happens  in  our  names  of  substances, 
proceeding  for  the  most  part  from  our  want  o(  knowledge,  and 
inability  to  penetrate  into  their  real  constitutions,  it  may  proba- 
bly be  wondered,  why  I  charge  this  no  an  imperfection  rather 
upon  our  words  than  understandings.  This  exception  has  so 
much  appearance  of  justice,  that  I  think  myself  obliged  to  give  a 
reason  why  1  have  followed  this  method.  I  must  confess  then, 
that  when  I  first  began  this  discourse  of  the  understanding,  and  a 
good  while  after,  I  had  not  the  least  thought  that  any  considera- 
tion of  words  was  at  all  necessary  to  it.  But  when,  having  passed 
over  the  original  and  composition  of  our  ideas,  1  began  to 
examine  the  extent  and  certainty  of  our  knowledge,  I  found  it  had 
so  near  a  connexion  with  words,  that,  unless  their  force  and  man- 
ner of  signification  were  first  well  observed,  there  could  be  verv 
little  said  clearly  and  pertinently  concerning  knowledge  ;  which 
being  conversant  about  truth,  had  constantly  to  do  with  proposi- 
tions ;  and  though  it  terminated  in  things,  yet  it  was  for  the  most 
part  so  much  by  the  intervention  of  words,  that  they  seemed 
scarce  separable  from  our  ccncral  khowledge.     At  least,  they 


24  IMPERFECTION  OF    WORDs.  [BOOK  III," 

interpose  themselves  so  much  between  our  understandings  and 
the  truth,  which  it  would  contemplate  and  apprehend,  that,  like 
the  medium  through  which  visible  objects  pass,  their  obscurity 
and  disorder  do  not  seldom  cast  a  mist  before  our  eyes,  and  im- 
pose upon  our  understandings.  If  we  consider,  in  the  fallacies 
men  put  upon  themselves  as  well  as  others,  and  the  mistakes  in 
men's  disputes  and  notions,  how  great  a  part  is  owing  to  words, 
and  their  uncertain  or  mistaken  significations — we  shall  have 
reason  to  think  this  no  small  obstacle  in  the  way  to  knowledge  ; 
which,  I  conclude,  we  are  the  more  carefully  to  be  warned  of. 
because  it  has  been  so  far  from  being  taken  notice  of  as  an  incon- 
venience, that  the  arts  of  improving  it  have  been  made  the  busi- 
ness of  men's  study,  and  obtained  the  reputation  of  learning  and 
subtilty,  as  we  shall  see  in  the  following  chapter.  But  I  am  apt 
to  imagine,  that  were  the  imperfections  of  language,  as  the  instru- 
ments of  knowledge,  more  thoroughly  weighed,  a  great  many  of 
the  controversies  that  make  such  a  noise  in  the  world,  would  of 
themselves  cease;  and  the  way  to  knowledge,  and  perhaps  peace, 
too,  lie  a  great  deal  opener  than  it  does. 

§  22.    THIS  SHOULD  TEACH  US  MODERATION,  IN  IMPOSING  OUR  OWN  SENSE 
OF  OLD  AUTHORS. 

Sure  I  am,  that  the  signification  of  words  in  all  languages,  de- 
pending very  much  on  the  thoughts,  notions,  and  ideas  of  him  that 
uses  them,  must  unavoidably  be  of  great  uncertainty  to  men  of 
the  same  language  and  country.  This  is  so  evident  in  the  Greek 
authors,  that  he  that  shall  peruse  their  writings  will  find  in  almost 
every  one  of  them  a  distinct  language,  though  the  same  words. 
But  when  to  this  natural  difficulty  in  every  country  there  shall 
be  added  different  countries  and  remote  ages,  wherein  the 
speakers  and  writers  had  very  different  notions,  tempers,  customs, 
ornaments,  and  figures  of  speech,  &c.  every  one  of  which  influ- 
enced the  signification  of  their  words  then,  though  to  us  now  they 
are  lost  and  unknown  ;  it  would  become  us  to  be  charitable  one  to 
another  in  our  interpretations  or  misunderstanding  of  those  ancient 
writings  ;  which,  though  of  great  concernment  to  be  understood, 
are  liable  to  the  unavoidable  difficulties  of  speech,  which  (if  we 
except  the  names  of  simple  ideas,  and  some  very  obvious  things) 
is  not  capable,  without  a  constant  defining  the  terms,  of  conveying 
the  sense  and  intention  of  the  speaker,  without  any  manner  of 
doubt  and  uncertainty,  to  the  hearer.  And  in  discourses  of 
religion,  law,  and  morality,  as  they  are  matters  of  the  highest  con- 
cernment, so  there  will  be  the  greatest  difficulty* 

§  23. 

The  volumes  of  interpreters  and  commentators  on  the  old  and 
new  Testament  are  but  too  manifest  proofs  of  this.  Though 
every  thing  said  in  the  text  be  infallibly  true,  yet  the  reader  may 
be.  nay  cannot  choose  but  be,  very  fallible  in  the  understanding 


.h.  X.]  ABUSE   OF    WORDS.  25 

of  it.  Nor  is  it  to  be  wondered,  that  the  will  of  God,  when 
clothed  in  words,  should  be  liable  to  that  doubt  and  uncertainty 
which  unavoidably  attends  that  sort  of  conveyance  ;  when  even 
his  Son,  whilst  clothed  in  flesh,  was  subject  to  all  the  frailties  and 
inconveniences  of  human  nature,  sin  excepted :  and  we  ought  to 
magnify  his  goodness,  that  he  hath  spread  before  all  the  world 
such  legible  characters  of  his  works  and  providence,  and  given  all 
mankind  so  sufficient  a  light  of  reason,  that  they  to  whom  this 
written  word  never  came,  could  not  (whenever  they  set  them- 
selves to  search)  either  doubt  of  the  being  of  a  God,  or  of  the 
obedience  due  to  him.  Since  then  the  precepts  of  natural  reli- 
gion are  plain,  and  very  intelligible  to  all  mankind,  and  seldom 
come  to  be  controverted  ;  and  other  revealed  truths,  which  are 
conveyed  to  us  by  books  and  languages,  are  liable  to  the  com- 
mon and  natural  obscurities  and  difficulties  incident  to  words; 
methinks  it  would  become  us  to  be  more  careful  and  diligent  in 
observing  the  former,  and  less  magisterial,  positive,  and  imperious 
m  imposing  our  own  sense  and  interpretations  of  the  latter. 


CHAPTER  X. 

OF  THE  ABUSE  OF  WORDS. 

§    1.    ABUSE  OF  WORDS. 

Besides  the  imperfection  that  is  naturally  in  language,  and  the 
obscurity  and  confusion  that  is  so  hard  to  be  avoided  in  the  use 
of  words,  there  are  several  wilful  faults  and  neglects  which  men 
are  guilty  of  in  this  way  of  communication,  whereby  they  render 
these  signs  less  clear  and  distinct  in  their  signification  than  natu- 
rally they  need  to  be. 

§  2.    FIRST,  WORDS  WITHOUT   AMY,  OR  WITHOUT  CLEAR  IDF. AS. 

First,  in  this  kind,  the  first  and  most  palpable  abuse  is,  the 
using  of  words  without  clear  and  distinct  ideas;  or,  which  is 
worse,  signs  without  any  thing  signified.  Of  these  there  are  two 
sorts. 

I.  One  may  observe,  in  all  languages,  certain  words,  that,  it 
they  be  examined,  will  be  found,  in  their  first  original  and  their 
appropriated  use,  not  to  stand  for  any  clear  and  distinct  idea-. 
These  for  the  most  part,  the  several  sects  of  philosophy  and  reli- 
gion have  introduced.  For  their  authors  or  promoters,  either 
affecting  something  singular  and  out  of  the  way  of  common 
apprehension,  or  to  support  some  strange  opinions,  or  cover  some 
weakness  of  their  hypothesis,  seldom  fail  to  coin  new  words,  and 


iG  ABUSE  OF  WORDS.  [BOOK  HI. 

such  as,  when  they  come  to  be  examined,  may  justly  be  called 
insignificant  terms.  For  having  either  had  no  determinate  col- 
lection of  ideas  annexed  to  them,  when  they  were  first  invented, 
or  at  least,  such  as,  if  well  examined,  will  be  found  inconsistent ;  it 
is  no  wonder  if  afterward,  in  the  vulgar  use  of  the  same  party, 
they  remain  empty  sounds,  with  little  or  no  signification,  among 
those  who  think  it  enough  to  have  them  often  in  their  mouths, 
as  the  distinguishing  characters  of  their  church,  or  school,  with- 
out much  troubling  their  heads  to  examine  what  are  the  precise 
ideas  they  stand  for.  1  shall  not  need  here  to  heap  up  instances  5 
every  man's  reading  and  conversation  will  sufficiently  furnish 
him  :  or  if  he  wants  to  be  better  stored,  the  great  mint-masters 
of  this  kind  of  terms,  I  mean  the  schoolmen  and  metaphysicians, 
(under  which,  I  think,  the  disputing  natural  and  moral  philoso- 
phers of  these  latter  ages  may  be  comprehended)  have  where- 
withal abundantly  to  content  him. 

§3. 

II.  Others  there  be  who  extend  this  abuse  yet  farther ;  who 
take  so  little  care  to  lay  by  words,  which,  in  their  primary  nota- 
tion, have  scarce  any  clear  and  distinct  ideas  which  they  are 
annexed  to  ;  that,  by  an  unpardonable  negligence,  they  familiarly 
use  words,  which  the  propriety  of  language  has  affixed  to  very 
important  ideas,  without  any  distinct  meaning  at  all.  Wisdom, 
glory,  grace,  &c.  are  words  frequent  enough  in  every  man's 
mouth  ;  but  if  a  great  many  of  those  who  use  them  should  be 
asked  what  they  mean  by  them,  they  would  be  at  a  stand,  and 
not  know  what  to  answer  :  a  plain  proof,  that  though  they  have 
learned  those  sounds,  and  have  them  ready  at  their  tongues'  end, 
yet  there  are  no  determined  ideas  laid  up  in  their  minds,  which 
are  to  be  expressed  to  others  by  them. 

§  4.    OCCASIONED    BY    LEARNING    NAMES  BEFORE  THE  IDEAS  THEY 
BELONG  TO. 

Men  having  been  accustomed  from  their  cradles  to  learn  words, 
which  are  easily  got  and  retained,  before  they  knew  or  had  framed 
the  complex  ideas  to  which  they  were  annexed,  or  which  were 
to  be  found  in  the  things  they  were  thought  to  stand  for ;  they 
usually  continue  to  do  so  all  their  lives  ;  and,  without  taking  the 
pains  necessary  to  settle  in  their  minds  determined  ideas,  they  use 
their  words  for  such  unsteady  and  confused  notions  as  they  have, 
contenting  themselves  with  the  same  words  other  people  use :  as 
if  their  very  sound  necessarily  carried  with  it  constantly  the  same 
meaning.  This,  though  men  make  a  shift  with,  in  the  ordinary 
occurrences  of  life,  where  they  find  it  necessary  to  be  understood, 
and  therefore  they  make  signs  till  they  are  so  ;  yet  this  insignifi- 
cancy in  their  words,  when  they  come  to  reason  concerning  either 
their  tenets  or  interest,  manifestlv  fills  their  discourse  with  abun* 


i  [|.   s.j  ABUSE  OF  WORns.  2', 

dance  of  empty  unintelligible  noise  and  jargon;  especially  in 
moral  matters,  where  the  words  for  the  most  part  standing  for 
arbitrary  and  numerous  collections  of  ideas,  not  regularly  and 
permanently  united  in  nature,  their  bare  sounds  are  often  only 
thought  on,  or  at  least  very  obscure  and  uncertain  notions  annexed 
to  them.  Men  take  the  words  they  (ind  in  use  among  their  neigh- 
bours; and  that  they  may  not  seem  ignorant  what  they  stand  for, 
use  them  confidently,  without  much  troubling  their  heads  about 
a  certain  fixed  meaning :  whereby,  besides  the  ease  of  it,  they 
obtain  this  advantage  ;  that  as  in  such  discourses  they  seldom  are 
in  the  right,  so  they  are  as  seldom  to  be  convinced  that  they  are 
in  the  wrong  ;  it  being  all  one  to  go  about  to  draw  those  men  out 
of  their  mistakes,  who  have  no  settled  notions,  as  to  dispossess 
a  vagrant  of  his  habitation,  who  has  no  settled  abode.  This  I 
guess  to  be  so  ;  and  every  one  may  observe  in  himself  and  others 
-whether  it  be  or  no. 

§  5.    UNSTEADY  APPLICATION  OF  THEM. 

Secondly,  another  great  abuse  of  words  is  inconstancy  in  the 
use  of  them.  It  is  hard  to  find  a  discourse  written  of  any  subject, 
especially  of  controversy,  wherein  one  shall  not  observe,  if  he 
read  with  attention,  the  same  words  (and  those  commonly  the 
most  material  in  the  discourse,  and  upon  which  the  argument 
turns)  used  sometimes  for  one  collection  of  simple  ideas,  and 
sometimes  for  another ;  which  is  a  perfect  abuse  of  language. 
Words  being  intended  for  signs  of  my  ideas,  to  make  them  known 
to  others,  not  by  any  natural  signification,  but  by  a  voluntary 
imposition — it  is  plain  cheat  and  abuse,  when  1  make  them  stand 
sometimes  for  one  thing  and  sometimes  for  another  ;  the  wilful 
doing  whereof  can  be  imputed  to  nothing  but  great  folly,  or 
greater  dishonesty :  and  a  man,  in  his  accounts  with  another, 
may,  with  as  much  fairness,  make  the  characters  of  numbers  stand 
sometimes  for  one  and  sometimes  for  another  collection  of  units. 
(v.g.  this  character  3  stands  sometimes  for  three,  sometimes  for 
four,  and  sometimes  for  eight)  as  in  his  discourse,  or  reasoning, 
make  the  same  words  stand  for  different  collections  of  simple 
ideas.  If  men  should  do  so  in  their  reckonings,  I  wonder  who 
would  have  to  do  with  them  ?  One  who  would  speak  thus,  in  the 
affairs  and  business  of  the  world,  and  call  eight  sometimes  seven, 
and  sometimes  nine,  as  best  served  his  advantage,  would  pre- 
sently have  clapped  upon  him  one  of  the  two  names  men  are 
commonly  disgusted  with :  and  yet  in  arguings  and  learned 
contests,  the  same  sort  of  proceedings  passes  commonly  for  wit 
and  learning:  but  to  me  it  appears  a  greater  dishonesty  than  the 
misplacing  of  counters  in  the  casting  up  a  debt ;  and  the  cheat 
the  greater,  by  how  much  truth  is  of  greater  concernment,  and 
\alue  than  money. 


ABUSE  OF  WORDS.  [BOOK  Iif^ 

§  6.    AFFECTED  OBSCURITY  BY  WRONG  APPLICATION. 

Thirdly,  another  abuse  of  language  is  an  affected  obscurity, 
by  either  applying  old  words  to  new  and  unusual  significations, 
or  introducing  new  and  ambiguous  terms,  without  defining  either  : 
or  else  putting  them  so  together,  as  may  confound  their  ordinary 
meaning.  Though  the  Peripatetic  philosophy  has  been  most 
eminent  in  this  way,  yet  other  sects  have  not  been  wholly  clear 
of  it.  There  are  scarce  any  of  them  that  are  not  cumbered 
with  some  difficulties  (such  is  the  imperfection  of  human  know- 
ledge) which  they  have  been  fain  to  cover  with  obscurity  of 
terms,  and  to  confound  the  signification  of  words,  which,  like 
a  mist  before  people's  eyes,  might  hinder  their  weak  parts 
from  being  discovered.  That  body  and  extension,  in  common 
use,  stand  for  two  distinct  ideas,  is  plain  to  any  one  that  will 
but  reflect  a  little  :  for  were  their  signification  precisely  the 
same,  it  would  be  proper,  and  as  intelligible  to  say,  the  body  of 
an  extension,  as  the  extension  of  a  body:  and  yet  there  are  those 
who  find  it  necessary  to  confound  their  signification.  To  this 
abuse,  and  the  mischiefs  of  confounding  the  signification  of  words, 
logic  and  the  liberal  sciences,  as  they  have  been  handled  in  the 
schools,  have  given  reputation  ;  and  the  admired  art  of  disputing 
hath  added  much  to  the  natural  imperfection  of  languages,  whilst 
it  has  been  made  use  of  and  fitted  to  perplex  the  signification 
of  words,  more  than  to  discover  the  knowledge  and  truth  of 
things  :  and  he  that  will  look  into  that  sort  of  learned  wri- 
tings, will  find  the  words  there  much  more  obscure,  uncertain, 
and  undetermined  in  their  meaning  than  they  are  in  ordinary 
conversation. 

§  7.    LOGIC  AND  DISPUTE  HAVE  MUCH  CONTRIBUTED  TO  THIS. 

This  is  unavoidably  to  be  so,  where  men's  parts  and  learning 
are  estimated  by  their  skill  in  disputing.  And  if  reputation  and 
reward  shall  attend  these  conquests,  which  depend  mostly  on  the 
fineness  and  niceties  of  words,  it  is  no  wonder  if  the  wit  of  man, 
so  employed,  should  perplex,  involve,  and  subtilize  the  significa- 
tion of  sounds,  so  as  never  to  want  something  to  say,  in  opposing 
or  defending  any  question  ;  the  victory  being  adjudged  not  to 
him  who  had  truth  on  his  side,  but  the  last  word  in  the  dispute. 

§   8.    CALLING   IT   SUBTILTY. 

This,  though  a  very  useless  skill,  and  that  which  I  think  in- 
direct opposite  to  the  ways  of  knowledge,  hath  yet  passed  hitherto 
under  the  laudable  and  esteemed  names  of  subtilty  and  acute- 
ness  ;  and  has  had  the  applause  of  the  schools,  and  encourage- 
ment of  one  part  of  the  learned  men  of  the  world.  And  no 
wonder;  since  the  philosophers  of  old  (the  disputing  and  wran- 
gling philosophers  I  mean,  such  as  Lucian  wittily  and  with  reason 
taxes)and  the  schoolmen  since,  aiming  at  glory  and  esteem  for  their 
great  and  universal  knowledge,  (easier  a  great  deal  to  be  pre ^ 


j.«.  X.j  ABUSE  OF  WORDS.  29 

tended  to  than  really  acquired)  found  this  a  good  expedient  to 
cover  their  ignorance  with  a  curious  and  inexplicable  web  of 
perplexed  words,  and  procure  to  themselves  the  admiration  of 
others  by  unintelligible  terms,  the  apter  to  produce  wonder, 
because  they  could  not  be  understood :  whilst  it  appears  in  all 
history,  that  these  profound  doctors  were  no  wiser,  nor  more 
useful",  than  their  neighbours  ;  and  brought  but  small  advantage 
to  human  life,  or  the  societies  wherein  they  lived ;  unless 
the  coining  of  new  words,  where  they  produced  no  new  things 
to  apply  them  to,  or  the  perplexing  or  obscuring  the  signification 
of  old  ones,  and  so  bringing  all  things  into  question  and  dispute, 
were  a  thing  profitable  to  the  life  of  man,  or  worthy  commenda- 
tion and  reward. 

§  9.    THIS  LEARNING  VERY   LITTLE  BENEFITS  SOCIETY. 

For  notwithstanding  these  learned  disputants,  these  all-knowing 
doctors,  it  was  to  the  unscholastic  statesman  that  the  govern- 
ments of  the  world  owed  their  peace,  defence,  and  liberties;  and 
from  the  illiterate  and  contemned  mechanic  (a  name  of  disgrace) 
that  they  received  the  improvements  of  useful  arts.  Neverthe- 
less, this  artificial  ignorance  and  learned  gibberish  prevailed 
mightily  in  these  last  ages,  by  the  interest  and  artifice  of  those 
who  found  no  easier  way  to  that  pitch  of  authority  and  dominion 
they  have  attained,  than  by  amusing  the  men  of  business  and 
ignorant  with  hard  words,  or  employing  the  ingenious  and  idle  in 
intricate  disputes  about  unintelligible  terms,  and  holding  them 
perpetually  entangled  in  that  endless  labyrinth.  Besides,  there 
is  no  such  way  to  gain  admittance,  or  give  defence  to  strange  and 
absurd  doctrines,  as  to  guard  them  round  about  with  legions  of 
obscure,  doubtful,  and  undefined  words  :  which  yet  make  these 
retreats  more  like  the  dens  of  robbers,  or  holes  of  foxes,  than 
the  fortresses  of  fair  warriors  ;  which,  if  it  be  hard  to  get  them 
out  of,  it  is  not  for  the  strength  that  is  in  them,  but  the  briers  and 
thorns,  and  the  obscurity  of  the  thickets  they  are  beset  with. 
For  untruth  being  unacceptable  to  the  mind  of  man,  there  is  no 
other  defence  left  for  absurdity  but  obscurity. 

§  10.    BUT  DESTROYS  THE  INSTJLUMEKTS  OF  KNOWLEDCE  AND  COMMUNI- 
CATION. 

Thus  learned  ignorance,  and  this  art  of  keeping,  even  inquisi- 
tive men,  from  true  knowledge,  hath  been  propagated  in  the 
world,  and  hath  much  perplexed,  whilst  it  pretended  to  inform 
the  understanding.  For  we  see  that  other  well-meaning  and  wise 
men,  whose  education  and  parts  had  not  acquired  that  acuteness, 
could  intelligibly  express  themselves  to  one  another  ;  and  in  its 
plain  use  make  a  benefit  of  language.  But  though  unlearned 
men  well  enough  understood  the  words  white  and  black,  &C  and 
had  constant  notions  of  the  ideas  signified  by  those  words  ;  \et 
<hcre  were  philosophers  found,  who  JVid  learning  and  ffutftilty 

Vab.  IF. 


oU  ABUSE   Of    VfOKp&m  [HOOK   III. 

enough  to  prove,  that  snow  was  black ;  i.  e,  to  prove  that  white 
was  black.  Whereby  they  had  the  advantage  to  destroy  the 
instruments  and  means  of  discourse,  conversation,  instruction, 
and  society ;  whilst  with  great  art  and  subtilty  they  did  no 
more  but  perplex  and  confound  the  signification  of  words ;  and 
thereby  render  language  less  useful  than  the  real  defects  of  it  had 
made  it ;  a  gift,  which  the  illiterate  had  not  attained  to. 

§11.  AS  USEFUL  AS  TO  CONFOUND  THE  SOUND  OF  THE  LETTERS. 

These  learned  men  did  equally  instruct  men's  understandings, 
and  profit  their  lives,  as  he  who  should  alter  the  signification  of 
known  characters,  and  by  a  subtle  device  of  learning,  far  sur- 
passing the  capacity  of  the  illiterate,  dull,  and  vulgar,  should,  in 
his  writing,  show  that  he  could  put  A  for  B,  and  D  for  E,  &c.  to 
the  no  small  admiration  and  benefit  of  his  reader  :  it  being  as 
senseless  to  put  black,  which  is  a  word  agreed  on  to  stand  for  one 
sensible  idea,  to  put  it,  1  say,  for  another,  or  the  contrary  idea, 
i.  e.  to  call  snow  black,  as  to  put  this  mark  A,  which  is  a  charac- 
ter agreed  on  to  stand  for  one  modification  of  sound,  made  by  a 
certain  motion  of  the  organs  of  speech,  for  B ;  which  is  agreed 
on  to  stand  for  another  modification  of  sound,  made  by  another 
certain  mode  of  the  organs  of  speech. 

§   12.  THIS  ART  HAS  PERPLEXED  RELIGION  AND  JUSTICE. 

Nor  hath  this  mischief  stopped  in  logical  niceties,  or  curious 
empty  speculations  ;  it  hath  invaded  the  great  concernments  of 
human  life  and  society,  obscured  and  perplexed  the  material 
truths  of  law  and  divinity  ;  brought  confusion,  disorder,  and 
uncertainty  into  the  affairs  of  mankind ;  and  if  not  destroyed, 
yet  in  a  great  measure  rendered  useless,  these  two  great  rules, 
religion  and  justice.  What  have  the  greatest  part  of  the  com- 
ments and  disputes  upon  the  laws  of  God  and  man  served  for, 
but  to  make  the  meaning  more  doubtful,  and  perplex  the  sense  ? 
What  have  been  the  effect  of  those  multiplied  curious  distinctions 
and  acute  niceties,  but  obscurity  and  uncertainty,  leaving  the 
words  more  unintelligible,  and  the  reader  more  at  a  loss  ?  How 
else  comes  it  to  pass  that  princes,  speaking  or  writing  to  their 
servants,  in  their  ordinary  commands,  are  easily  understood ; 
speaking  to  their  people,  in  their  laws,  are  not  so  ?  And,  as  I 
remarked  before,  doth  it  not  often  happen,  that  a  man  of  an 
ordinary  capacity  very  well  understands  a  text  or  a  law  that 
he  reads,  till  he  consults  an  expositor,  or  goes  to  counsel ;  who, 
by  that  time  he  hath  done  explaining  them,  makes  the  words  sig- 
nify either  nothing  at  all,  or  what  he  pleases. 

§  13.  AND  OUGHT  NOT  TO  PASS  FOR  LEARNING. 

Whether  any  by-interests  of  these  professions  have  occasioned 
this,  I  will  not  here  examine  ;  but  1  leave  it  to  be  considered, 
whether  it  would  not  be  well  for  mankind?  whose  concernment 


t  H.  X.J  ABUSE    O.F    WORHfr.  ,j  I 

it  is  to  know  things  as  they  are,  and  to  do  what  they  ought,  and 
not  to  spend  their  lives  in  talking  about  them,  or  tossing  words  to 
and  fro  ;  whether  it  would  not  be  well,  1  say,  that  the  use  of 
words  were  made  plain  and  direct,  and  that  language,  which  was 
given  us  for  the  improvement  of  knowledge  and  bond  of  society, 
should  not  be  employed  to  darken  truth,  and  unsettle  people's 
rights ;  to  raise  mists,  and  render  unintelligible  both  morality  and 
religion  ?  Or  that,  at  least,  if  this  will  happen,  it  should  not  be 
thought  learning  or  knowledge  to  do  so  ? 

§   14.    TAKING  THEM  FOH  THINGS. 

Fourthly,  another  great  abuse  of  words  is  the  taking  them  for 
things.  This,  though  it  in  some  degree  concerns  all  names  in 
general,  yet  more  particularly  affects  those  of  substances.  To 
this  abuse  those  men  are  most  subject  who  most  confine  their 
thoughts  to  any  one  system,  and  give  themselves  up  into  a  firm 
belief  of  the  perfection  of  any  received  hypothesis  ;  whereby 
they  come  to  be  persuaded,  that  the  terms  of  that  sect  are  so 
suited  to  the  nature  of  things,  that  they  perfectly  correspond  with 
their  real  existence.  Who  is  there,  that  has  been  bred  up  in 
the  Peripatetic  philosophy,  who  does  not  think  the  ten  names, 
under  which  are  ranked  the  ten  predicaments,  to  be  exactly  con- 
formable to  the  nature  of  things?  Who  is  there  of  that  school 
that  is  not  persuaded,  that  substantial  forms,  vegetative  souls, 
abhorrence  of  a  vacuum,  intentional  species,  &c.  are  something 
real  ?  These  words  men  have  learned  from  their  very  entrance 
upon  knowledge,  and  have  found  their  masters  and  systems  lay 
great  stress  upon  them  ;  and  therefore  they  cannot  quit  the 
opinion,  that  they  are  conformable  to  nature,  and  are  the  repre- 
sentations of  something  that  really  exists.  The  Platonists  have 
their  soul  of  the  world,  and  the  Epicureans  their  endeavour 
towards  motion  in  their  atoms,  when  at  rest.  There  is  scarce 
any  sect  in  philosophy  has  not  a  distinct  set  of  terms,  that  others 
understand  not ;  but  yet  this  gibberish,  which,  in  the  weakness* 
of  human  understanding,  serves  so  well  to  palliate  men's  igno- 
rance, and  cover  their  errors,  comes,  by  familiar  use  among 
those  of  the  same  tribe,  to  seem  the  most  important  part  of 
language,  and  of  all  the  other  terms  the  most  significant.  And 
should  aerial  and  a?,therial  vehicles  come  once,  by  the  preva- 
lency  of  that  doctrine,  to  be  generally  received  any  where,  no 
doubt  those  terms  would  make  impressions  on  men's  minds,  so 
as  to  establish  them  in  the  persuasion  of  the  reality  of  such  things, 
ns  much  as  Peripatetic  forms  and  intentional  species  have  here- 
tofore done. 

-  1- 

v)  Id.  instance,  in  matter. 

How  much  names  taken  for  things  are  apt  to  mislead  the  under- 
standing, the  attentive  reading  of  philosophical  writers  would 
abundantly  discover:  and  that,  perhaps,  in  words  little  suspected 


#2  ABU&E  O'F1  WOHDv  [BOOK  Ui. 

of  any  such  misuse.  I  shall  instance  in  one  only,  and  that  a 
very  familiar  one  :  how  many  intricate  disputes  have  there  been 
about  matter,  as  if  there  were  some  such  thing  really  in  nature, 
distinct  from  body  ;  as  it  is  evident  the  word  matter  stands  for 
an  idea  distinct  from  the  idea  of  body  !  For  if  the  ideas  these 
two  terms  stood  for  were  precisely  the  same,  they  might  indiffer- 
ently, in  all  places,  be  put  for  one  another.  But  we  see,  that 
though  it  be  proper  to  say,  there  is  one  matter  of  all  bodies,  one 
cannot  say  there  is  one  body  of  all  matters  :  we  familiarly  say, 
one  body  is  bigger  than  another ;  but  it  sounds  harsh  (and  I 
think  is  never  used)  to  say,  one  matter  is  bigger  than  another. 
Whence  comes  this  then  ?  viz.  from  hence,  that  though  matter 
and  body  be  not  really  distinct,  but  wherever  there  is  the  one 
there  is  the  other  ;  yet  matter  and  body  stand  for  two  different 
conceptions,  whereof  the  one  is  incomplete,  and  but  a  part  of 
the  other.  For  body  stands  for  a  solid  extended  figured  substance, 
whereof  matter  is  but  a  partial  and  more  confused  conception, 
it  seeming  to  me  to  be  used  for  the  substance  and  solidity  of 
body,  without  taking  in  its  extension  and  figure  :  and  therefore  it 
is  that,  speaking  of  matter,  we  speak  of  it  always  as  one,  because 
in  truth  it  expressly  contains  nothing  but  the  idea  of  a  solid  sub- 
stance, which  is  every  where  the  same,  every  where  uniform. 
This  being  our  idea  of  matteF,  we  no  more  conceive  or  speak  of 
different  matters  in  the  world  than  we  do  of  different  solidities  ; 
though  we  both  conceive  and  speak  of  different  bodies,  because 
extension  and  figure  are  capable  of  variation.  But  since  solidity 
cannot  exist  without  extension  and  figure,  the  taking  matter  to  be 
the  name  of  something  really  existing  under  that  precision  has 
no  doubt  produced  those  obscure  and  unintelligible  discourses 
and  disputes,  which  have  filled  the  heads  and  books  of  philoso- 
phers, concerning  materia  prima  ;  which  imperfection  or  abuse, 
how  far  it  may  concern  a  great  many  other  general  terms,  I  leave 
to  be  considered.  This,  I  think,  1  may  at  least  say,  that  we 
should  have  a  great  many  fewer  disputes  in  the  world,  if  words 
were  taken  for  what  they  are,  the  signs  of  our  ideas  only,  and  not 
for  things  themselves.  For  when  we  argue  about  matter,  or  any 
the  like  term,  we  truly  argue  only  about  the  idea  we  express  by 
lhat  sound,  whether  that  precise  idea  agree  to  any  thing  really 
existing  in  nature  or  no.  And  if  men  would  tell  what  ideas 
they  make  their  words  stand  for,  there  could  not  be  half  that 
obscurity  or  wrangling,  in  the  search  or  support  of  truth,  that 
there  is. 

^   16.    THIS  MAKES  ERRORS   LASTING. 

But  whatever  inconvenience  follows  from  this  mistake  of 
words,  this  I  am  sure,  that  by  constant  and  familiar  use  they 
charm  men  into  notions  far  remote  from  the  truth  of  things.  It 
would  be  a  hard  matter  to  persuade  any  one  that  the  words  which 
his  father  or  school rpaster,  file  parson  of  the  parish,  or  such  a 


-.11.  \'.j  AfiUSE   OF    WORDS..  33 

reverend  doctor  used,  signified  nothing  that  really  existed  in 
nature  ;  which,  perhaps,  is  none  of  the  least  causes  that  men 
are  so  hardly  drawn  to  quit  their  mistakes,  even  in  opinions  purely 
philosophical,  and  where  they  have  no  other  interest  but  truth. 
For  the  words  they  have  a  long  time  been  used  to,  remaining  firm 
in  their  minds,  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  wrong  notions  annexed 
to  them  should  not  be  removed. 

§   17.     SETTING  THEM   FOR  WHAT  THEY  CANNOT  SIGNIFY. 

Fifthly,  another  abuse  of  words,  is  the  setting  them  in  the 
place  of  things  which  they  do  or  can  by  no  means  signify.  We 
may  observe,  that  in  the  general  names  of  substances,  whereof 
the  nominal  essences  are  only  known  to  us,  when  we  put  them 
into  propositions,  and  affirm  or  deny  any  thing  about  them,  we 
do  most  commonly  tacitly  suppose,  or  intend  they  should  stand 
for  the  real  essence  of  a  certain  sort  of  substances.  For  when 
a  man  says  gold  is  malleable,  he  means  and  would  insinuate 
something  more  than  this,  that  what  1  call  gold  is  malleable, 
(though  truly  it  amounts  to  no  more)  .  but  would  have  this 
understood,  viz.  that  gold,  i.  e.  what  has  the  real  essence  of 
gold,  is  malleable ;  which  amounts  to  thus  much,  that  malleable- 
ness  depends  on,  and  is  inseparable  from,  the  real  essence  of 
gold.  But  a  man  not  knowing  wherein  that  real  essence  consists, 
the  connexion  in  his  mind  of  malleableness  is  not  truly  with  an 
essence  he  knows  not,  but  only  with  the  sound  gold  he  puts  for 
it.  Thus  when  we  say,  that  animal  rationale  is,  ana  animal 
implume  bipes  lads  unguibas  is  not  a  good  definition  of  a  man; 
it  is  plain,  we  suppose  the  name  man  in  this  case  to  stand  for 
the  real  essence  of  a  species,  and  would  signify,  that  a  rational 
animal  better  described  that  real  essence,  than  a  two-legged 
animal  with  broad  nails,  and  without  feathers.  For  else,  why 
might  not  Plato  as  properly  make  the  word  «v%wwo?,  or  man, 
stand  for  his  complex  idea,  made  up  of  the  idea  of  a  body,  dis- 
tinguished from  others  by  a  certain  shape  and  other  outward 
appearances,  as  Aristotle  make  the  complex  idea,  to  which  he 
gave  the  name  uv$gairoq,  or  man,  of  body  and  the  faculty  of  rea- 
soning joined  together,  unless  the  name  ZLvfyoTros,  or  man,  were 
supposed  to  stand  for  something  else  than  what  it  signifies  ;  and 
and  to  be  put  in  the  place  of  some  other  thing  than  the  idea  a 
man  professes  he  would  express  by  it  ? 

§  18.  V.  g.  PUTTING  THEM  FOR  THE  REAL  ESSENCES  OF  SUBSTANCES. 

It  is  true,  the  names  of  substances  would  be  much  more 
useful,  and  propositions  made  in  them  much  more  certain,  were 
the  real  essences  of  substances  the  ideas  in  our  minds  which 
those  words  signified.  And  it  is  for  want  of  those  real  essences 
that  our  words  convey  so  little  knowledge  or  certainty  in  our 
discourses  about  them:  and  therefore  the  mind,  to  remove  that 
imperfection  as  much  as  it  can,  makes  them,  by  a  secret  supposi- 


34  ABUSE   OF   WORDS.  [BOOK  III,. 

tion,  to  stand  for  a  thing,  having  that  real  essence,  as  if  thereby 
it  made  some  nearer  approaches  to  it.  For  though  the  word  man 
or  gold  signify  nothing  truly  but  a  complex  idea  of  properties 
united  together  in  one  sort  of  substances;  yet  there  is  scarce  any 
body  in  the  use  of  these  words,  but  often  supposes  each  of  those 
names  to  stand  for  a  thing  having  the  real  essence,  on  which 
these  properties  depend.  Which  is  so  far  from  diminishing  the 
imperfection  of  our  words,  that  by  a  plain  abuse  it  adds  to  it, 
when  we  would  make  them  stand  for  something,  which,  not 
being  in  our  complex  idea,  the  name  we  use  can  no  ways  be  the 
sign  of. 

§   19.    HENCE  WE  THINK  EVERY  CHANGE  OF  OUR  IDEA  IN  SUBSTANCES 
NOT  TO  CHANGE  THE  SPECIES. 

This  shows  us  the  reason  why  in  mixed  modes  any  of  the  ideas 
that  make  the  composition  of  the  complex  one,  being  left  out  or 
changed,  it  is  allowed  to  be  another  thing,  i.  e.  to  be  of  another 
species  :  it  is  plain  in  chance-medley,  man-slaughter,  murder, 
parricide,  &c.  The  reason  whereof  is,  because  the  complex 
idea  signified  by  that  name  is  the  real  as  well  as  nominal  essence  ; 
and  there  is  no  secret  reference  of  that  name  to  any  other  essence 
but  that.  But  in  substances  it  is  not  so.  For  though  in  that 
called  gold  one  puts  into  his  complex  idea  what  another  leaves 
out,  and  vice  versa  ;  yet  men  do  not  usually  think  that  therefore 
the  species  is  changed :  because  they  secretly  in  their  minds  refer 
that  name,  and  suppose  it  annexed  to  a  real  immutable  essence 
of  a  thing  existing,  on  which  those  properties  depend.  He  that 
adds  to  his  complex  idea  of  gold  that  of  fixedness  and  solubility  in 
aq.  regia,  which  he  put  not  in  it  before,  is  not  thought  to  have 
changed  the  species ;  but  only  to  have  a  more  perfect  idea, 
by  adding  another  simple  idea,  which  is  always  in  fact  joined 
with  those  other,  of  which  his  former  complex  idea  consisted. 
But  this  reference  of  the  name  to  a  thing,  whereof  we  had  not 
the  idea,  is  so  far  from  helping  at  all,  that  it  only  serves  the  more 
to  involve  us  in  difficulties.  For  by  this  tacit  reference  to  the 
real  essence  of  that  species  of  bodies,  the  word  gold  (which,  by 
standing  for  a  more  or  less  perfect  collection  of  simple  ideas, 
serves  to  design  that  sort  of  body  well  enough  in  civil  discourse) 
comes  to  have  no  signification  at  all,  being  put  for  somewhat, 
whereof  we  have  no  idea  at  all,  and  so  can  signify  nothing  at  all, 
when  the  body  itself  is  away.  For  however  it  may  be  thought 
all  one  ;  yet,  if  well  considered,  it  will  be  found  a  quite  different 
thing  to  argue  about  gold  in  name,  and  about  a  parcel  in  the 
body  itself,  v.  g.  a  piece  of  leaf-gold  laid  before  us  ;  though  in 
discourse  we  are  fain  to  substitute  the  name  for  the  thing. 


cH.  X.j  ABU6E  OP  WOEbi.  35 

§  20.    THE  CAUSE  OF'  THE  ABUSE,  A  SUPPOSITION  OP  NATURE?S  WORKING 
ALWAYS  REGULARLY. 

That  which  I  think  very  much  disposes  men  to  substitute  their 
names  for  the  real  essences  of  species,  is  the  supposition  before- 
mentioned,  that  nature  works  regularly  in  the  production  of 
things,  and  sets  the  boundaries  to  each  of  those  species,  by  giving 
exactly  the  same  real  internal  constitution  to  each  individual, 
which  we  rank  under  one  general  name.  W  hereas  any  one  who 
observes  their  different  qualities  can  hardly  doubt,  that  many  of 
the  individuals  called  by  the  same  name,  are,  in  theii  internal 
constitution,  as  different  one  from  another  as  several  of  those 
which  are  ranked  under  different  specific  names.  This  suppo- 
sition, however,  that  the  same  precise  and  internal  constitution 
goes  always  with  the  same  specific  name,  makt  s  men  forward  to 
take  those  names  for  the  representatives  of  those  real  essences, 
though  indeed  they  signify  nothing  but  the  complex  ideas  they 
have  in  their  minds  when  they  use  them.  So  that,  if  I  may  so 
say,  signifying  o^e  thing,  and  being  supposed  for,  or  put  in  the 
place  of  another,  they  cannot  but,  in  such  a  kind  of  use,  cause  a 
great  deal  of  uncertainty  in  men's  discourses  ;  especially  in  those 
who  have  thoroughly  imbibed  the  doctrine  of  substantial  forms, 
whereby  they  firmly  imagine  the  several  species  of  things  to  be 
determined  and  distinguished. 

§  21.    THIS  ABUSE  CONTAINS  TWO  FALSE  SUPPOSITIONS. 

But  however  preposterous  and  absurd  it  be  to  make  our  names 
stand  for  ideas  we  have  not,  or  (which  is  all  one)  essences  that 
we  know  not,  it  being  in  effect  to  make  our  words  the  signs  of 
nothing ;  yet  it  is  evident  to  any  one,  who  ever  so  little  reflects  on 
the  use  men  make  of  their  words,  that  there  is  nothing  more  fa- 
miliar. When  a  man  asks  whether  this  or  that  tiling  he  sees,  let 
it  be  a  drill,  or  a  monstrous  foetus,  be  a  man  or  no  ;  it  is  evident, 
the  question  is  not,  whether  that  particular  thing  agree  to  his 
complex  idea,  expressed  by  the  name  man  ;  but  whether  it  has  in 
it  the  real  essence  of  a  species  of  things,  which  he  supposes  his 
name  man  to  stand  for.  In  which  way  of  using  the  names  of 
substances  there  are  these  false  suppositions  contained. 

First,  there  are  certain  precise  essences,  according  to  which 
nature  makes  all  particular  things,  and  by  which  they  are  distin- 
guished into  species.  That  every  thing  has  a  real  constitution, 
whereby  it  is  what  it  is,  and  on  which  its  sensible  qualities  de- 
pend, is  past  doubt ;  but  I  think  it  has  been  proved,  that  this 
makes  not  the  distinction  of  species,  as  we  rank  them,  nor  the 
boundaries  of  their  names. 

Secondly,  this  tacitly  also  insinuates,  as  if  we  had  ideas  of 
these  proposed  essences.  For  to  what  purpose  else  is  it  to  inquire 
whether  this  or  that  thing  have  the  real  essence  of  the  species 
man,  if  we  did  not  suppose  that  there  were  such  a  specific  essence 
known?  which  yet  is  utterly  false:  and  therefore  =uch  application 


oG  ABbSii  OF  WOEUiJ.  [BOOK  III. 

of  names,  as  would  make  them  stand  for  ideas  which  we  have  not. 
must  needs  cause  great  disorder  in  discourses  and  reasonings 
about  them,  and  be  a  great  inconvenience  in  our  communication 
by  words. 

§  22.     A  SUPPOSITION  THAT  WORDS  HAVE  A  CERTAIN    AND  EVIDENT 
SIGNIFICATION. 

Sixthly,  there  remains  yet  another  more  general,  though  per- 
haps less  observed,  abuse  of  words  ;  and  that  is,  that  men  having 
by  a  long  and  familiar  use  annexed  to  them  certain  ideas,  they 
are  apt  to  imagine  so  near  and  necessary  a  connexion  between 
the  names  and  the  signification  they  use  them  in,  that  they 
forwardly  suppose  one  cannot  but  understand  what  their 
meaning  is ;  and  therefore  one  ought  to  acquiesce  in  the 
words  delivered,  as  if  it  were  past  doubt,  that,  in  the  use  of 
those  common  received  sounds,  the  speaker  and  hearer  had 
necessarily  the  same  precise  ideas.  Whence  presuming,  that 
when  they  have  in  discourse  used  any  term,  they  have  thereby, 
as  it  were,  set  before  others  the  very  thing  they  talk  of;  and  so 
likewise  taking  the  words  of  others  as  naturally  standing 
for  just  what  they  themselves  have  been  accustomed  to  apply 
them  to,  they  never  trouble  themselves  to  explain  their  own,  or 
understand  clearly  others'  meaning.  From  whence  commonly 
proceed  noise  and  wrangling,  without  improvement  or  informa- 
tion ;  whilst  men  take  words  to  be  the  constant  regular  marks  of 
agreed  notions,  which  in  truth  are  no  more  but  the  voluntary  and 
unsteady  signs  of  their  own  ideas.  And  yet  men  think  it  strange, 
if,  in  discourse,  or  (where  it  is  often  absolutely  necessary)  in  dis- 
pute, one  sometimes  asks  the  meaning  of  their  terms  :  though 
the  arguings  one  may  every  day  observe  in  conversation  make  it 
evident,  that  there  are  few  names  of  complex  ideas  which  any  two 
men  use  for  the  same  just  precise  collection.  It  is  hard  to  name 
a  word  which  will  not  be  a  clear  instance  of  this.  Life  is  a  term, 
none  more  familiar.  Any  one  almost  would  take  it  for  an  affront 
to  be  asked  what  he  meant  by  it.  And  yet  if  it  comes  in  question, 
whether  a  plant,  that  lies  ready  formed  in  the  seed,  have  life ; 
whether  the  embryo  in  an  egg  before  incubation,  or  a  man  in  a 
swoon  without  sense  or  motion,  be  alive  or  no  ;  it  is  easy  to  per- 
ceive that  a  clear,  distinct,  settled  idea  does  not  always  accom- 
pany the  use  of  so  known  a  word  as  that  of  life  is.  Some  gross 
and  confused  conceptions  men  indeed  ordinarily  have,  to  which 
they  apply  the  common  words  of  their  language  ;  and  such  a 
loose  use  of  their  words  serves  them  well  enough  in  their  ordi- 
nary discourses  or  affairs.  But  this  is  not  sufficient  for  philoso- 
phical inquiries.  Knowledge  and  reasoning  require  precise 
determinate  ideas.  And  though  men  will  not  be  so  importunately 
dull,  as  not  to  understand  what  others  say  without  demanding  an 
explication  of  their  terms ;  nor  so  troublesomely  critical,  as  to 
correct  others  in  the  use  of  the  words  thev  receive  from  them  : 


CH.   X.J  ABUSE   OF    VVOHDi.  37 

yet  where  truth  and  knowledge  are  concerned  in  the  case,  I  know 
not  what  fault  it  can  be  to  desire  the  explication  of  words  whose 
sense  seems  dubious  ;  or  why  a  man  should  be  ashamed  to  own 
his  ignorance  in  what  sense  another  man  uses  his  words,  since  he 
has  no  other  way  of  certainly  knowing  it  but  by  being  informed. 
This  abuse  of  taking  words  upon  trust  has  nowhere  spread  90  far, 
nor  with  so  ill  effects,  as  among  men  of  letters.  The  multipli- 
cation and  obstinacy  of  disputes,  which  have  so  laid  waste  the 
intellectual  world,  is  owing  to  nothing  more  than  to  this  ill  use  of 
words.  For  though  it  be  generally  believed  that  there  is  great 
diversity  of  opinions  in  the  volumes  and  variety  of  controversies 
the  world  is  distracted  with,  yet  the  most  I  can  find  that  the  con- 
tending learned  men  of  different  parties  do,  in  their  arguings  one 
with  another,  is,  that  they  speak  different  languages.  For  1  am 
apt  to  imagine,  that  when  any  of  them,  quitting  terms,  think  upon 
things,  and  know  what  they  think,  they  think  all  the  same ; 
though  perhaps  what  they  would  have,  be  different, 

6  23.  THE  ENDS  OF  LANGUAGE  :  1 .  TO  CONVEY  OUR  IDEAS. 

To  conclude  this  consideration  of  the  imperfection  and  abus6 
of  language ;  the  ends  of  language  in  our  discourse  with  others 
being  chiefly  these  three:  first,  to  make  known  one  man's  thoughts 
or  ideas  to  another  ;  secondly,  to  do  it  with  as  much  ease  and 
quickness  as  possible ;  and,  thirdly,  thereby  to  convey  the  know- 
ledge of  things :  language  is  either  abused  or  deficient  when  it 
fails  of  any  of  these  three. 

First,  words  fail  in  the  first  of  these  ends,  and  lay  not  open  one 
man's  ideas  to  another's  view  :  1.  When  men  have  names  in  their 
mouths  without  any  determinate  ideas  iu  their  minds,  whereof 
they  are  the  signs ;  or,  2.  When  they  apply  the  common  received 
names  of  any  language  to  ideas,  to  which  the  common  use  of  that 
language  does  not  apply  them  :  or,  3.  When  they  apply  them 
very  unsteadily,  making  them  stand  now  for  one,  and  by  and  by 
for  another  idea. 

§  24.    2.    TO  DO  IT  WITH  QUICKNESS. 

Secondly,  men  fail  of  conveying  their  thoughts  with  all  the 
quickness  and  ease  that  may  be,  when  they  have  complex  ideas 
without  having  any  distinct  names  for  them.  This  is  sometimes 
the  fault  of  the  language  itself,  which  has  not  in  it  a  sound  yet 
applied  to  such  a  signification;  and  sometimes  the  fault  of  the  man 
who  has  not  yet  learned  the  name  for  that  idea  he  would  show 
another. 

0  25.    3.    THEREWITH  TO  CONVEY  THE  KNOWLEDGE  OF  THINGS. 

Thirdly,  there  is  no  knowledge  of  things  conveyed  by  men's 
words,  when  their  ideas  agree  not  to  the  reality  of  things.  Though 
it  be  a  defect,  that  has  its  original  in  our  ideas,  which  are  not  so 
conformable  to  the  nature  of  things,  as  attention,  stndv.  awl  at?- 

Vol.  II,  G 


oo  abuse!1  of  xvobds.  [book  iii- 

plication  might  make  them  ;  yet  it  fails  not  to  extend  itself  to  our 
words  too,  when  we  use  them  as  signs  of  real  beings,  which  yet 
never  had  any  reality  or  existence. 

§  26.  how  men's  words  fail  in  all  these. 
First,  he  that  hath  words  of  any  language,  without  distinct  ideas 
in  his  mind  to  which  he  applies  them,  does,  so  far  as  he  uses  them 
in  discourse,  only  make  a  noise  without  any  sense  or  signification; 
and  how  learned  soever  he  may  seem  by  the  use  of  hard  words  or 
learned  terms,  is  not  much  more  advanced  thereby  in  knowledge 
than  he  would  be  in  learning,  who  had  nothing  in  his  study  but 
the  bare  titles  of  books,  without  possessing  the  contents  of  them. 
For  all  such  words,  however  put  into  discourse,  according  to  the 
right  construction  of  grammatical  rules,  or  the  harmony  of  well- 
turned  periods,  do  yet  amount  to  nothing  but  bare  sounds,  and 
nothing  else. 

§  27. 
Secondly,  he  that  has  complex  ideas,  without  particular  names 
for  them,  would  be  in  no  better  case  than  a  bookseller,  who  had 
in  his  warehouse  volumes  that  lay  there  unbound,  and  without 
titles  ;  which  he  could  therefore  make  known  to  others  only  by 
showing  the  loose  sheets,  and  communicate  them  only  by  tale. 
This  man  is  hindered  in  his  discourse  for, want  of  words  to  com- 
municatehis  complex  ideas,  which  he  is  therefore  forced  to  make 
known  by  an  enumeration  of  the  simple  ones  that  compose  them; 
and  so  is  fain  often  to  use  twenty  words,  to  express  what  another 
man  signifies  in  one. 

§28. 

Thirdly,  he  that  puts  not  constantly  the  same  sign  for  the  same 
idea,  but  uses  the  same  words  sometimes  in  one,  and  sometimes 
in  another  signification,  ought  to  pass  in  the  schools  and  conver- 
sation for  as  fair  a  man,  as  he  does  in  the  market  and  exchange, 
who  sells  several  things  under  the  same  name. 

§29. 

Fourthly,  he  that  applies  the  words  of  any  language  to  ideas 
different  from  those  to  which  the  common  use  of  that  country 
applies  them,  however  his  own  understanding  may  be  rilled  with 
truth  and  light,  will  not  by  such  words  be  able  to  convey  much  of 
it  to  others,  without  defining  his  terms.  For  however  the  sounds 
are  such  as  are  familiarly  known,  and  easily  enter  the  ears  of 
those  who  are  accustomed  to  them  ;  yet  standing  for  other  ideas 
than  those  they  usually  are  annexed  to,  and  are  wont  to  excite  in 
the  mind  of  the  hearers,  they  cannot  make  known  the  thoughts  of 
him  who  thus  uses  them. 


<  H.  X.]  VliUSE  OF  WORDS-  39 

§30. 
Fifthly,  he  that  imagined  to  himself  substances  such  as  never 
have  been,  and  filled  his  head  with  ideas  which  have  not  any  cor- 
respondence with  the  real  nature  of  things,  to  which  yet  he  gives 
settled  and  defined  names,  may  fill  his  discourse,  and  perhaps 
another  man's  head,  with  the  fantastical  imaginations  of  his  own 
brain,  but  will  be  very  far  from  advancing  thereby  one  jot  in 
real  and  true  knowledge. 

§31. 

He  that  hath  names  without  ideas,  wants  meaning  in  his  words, 
and  speaks  only  empty  sounds.  He  that  hath  complex  ideas 
without  names  for  them,  wants  liberty  and  despatch  in  his  ex- 
pressions, and  is  necessitated  to  use  periphrases.  He  that  uses 
his  words  loosely  and  unsteadily,  will  either  be  not  minded,  or 
not  understood.  He  that  applies  his  names  to  ideas  different 
from  their  common  use,  wants  propriety  in  his  language,  and 
speaks  gibberish.  And  he  that  hath,  the  ideas  of  substances  disa- 
greeing with  the  real  existence  of  things,  so  far  wants  the  mate- 
rials of  true  knowledge  in  his  understanding,  and  hath  instead 
thereof  chimeras. 

§  32.  HOW  IN   SUBSTANCES. 

In  our  notions  concerning  substances,  we  are  liable  to  all  the 
former  inconveniences  :  v.  g.  he  that  uses  the  word  tarantula, 
without  having  any  imagination  or  idea  of  what  it  stands  for,  pro- 
nounces a  good  word  ;  but  so  long  means  nothing  at  all  by  it.  2. 
He  that  in  a  new  discovered  country  shall  see  several  sorts  of 
animals  and  vegetables,  unknown  to  him  before,  may  have  as  true 
ideas  of  them  as  of  a  horse  or  a  stag  ;  but  can  speak  of  them  only 
by  a  description,  till  he  shall  either  take  the  names  the  natives 
call  them  by,  or  give  them  names  himself.  3.  He  that  uses  the 
word  body  sometimes  for  pure  extension,  and  sometimes  for  ex- 
tension and  solidity  together,  will  talk  very  fallaciously.  4.  Pic 
that  gives  the  name  horse  to  that  idea,  which  common  usage  calls 
mule,  talks  improperly,  and  will  not  be  understood.  5.  He  that 
thinks  the  name  centaur  stands  for  some  real  being,  imposes  on 
himself,  and  mistakes  words  for  things. 

§  33.    HOW  IN  MODES  AND  RELATIONS. 

In  modes  and  relations  generally  we  are  liable  only  to  the  lour 
first  of  these  inconveniences  ;  viz.  1.  I  may  have  in  my  memory 
the  names  of  modes,  as  gratitude  or  charity,  and  yet  not  have  any 
precise  ideas  annexed  in  my  thoughts  to  those  names.  2.  I  may 
have  ideas,  and  not  know  the  names  that  belong  to  them  ;  v.  g. 
I  may  have  the  idea  of  a  man's  drinking  till  his  colour  and 
humour  be  altered,  till  his  tongue  trips,  and  his  eyes  look  red.  and 
his  feet  fail  him  ;  and  yet  not  know,  that  it  is  to  be  called  drunk- 
enness.    3.  I  may  have  the  ideas  of  virtue-;  ok  virp«.  and  name? 


,lU  ABfSEOF  WOEOs.  [BOOK  III. 

also,  but  apply  them  amiss  :  v.  g.  when  I  apply  the  name  fruga- 
lity to  that  idea  which  others  call  and  signify  by  this  sound,  co- 
vetousncss.  4.  1  may  use  any  of  those  names  with  inconstancy. 
3.  But,  in  modes  and  relations,  I  cannot  have  ideas  disagreeing 
to  the  existence  of  things:  for  modes  being  complex  ideas  made  by 
the  mind  at  pleasure  ;  and  relation  being  but  by  way  of  consider- 
ing or  comparing  two  things  together,  and  so  also  an  idea  of  my 
own  making  ;  these  ideas  can  scarce  be  found  to  disagree  with 
any  thing  existing,  since  they  are  not  in  the  mind  as  the  copies 
of  things  regularly  made  by  nature,  nor  as  properties  inseparably 
flowing  from  the  internal  constitution  or  essence  of  any  sub- 
stance ;  but  as  it  were  patterns  lodged  in  my  memory,  with  names 
annexed  to  them,  to  denominate  actions  and  relations  by,  as  they 
come  to  exist.  But  the  mistake  is  commonly  in  my  giving  a 
wrong  name  to  my  conceptions ;  and  so  using  words  in  a  differ- 
ent sense  from  other  people,  I  am  not  understood,  but  am  thought 
to  have  wrong  ideas  of  them,  when  I  give  wrong  names  to  them. 
Only  if  I  put  in  my  ideas  of  mixed  modes  or  relations  any  incon- 
sistent ideas  together,  I  fill  my  head  also  with  chimeras ;  since 
such  ideas,  if  well  examined,  cannot  so  much  as  exist  in  the  mind, 
much  less  any  real  being  ever  be  denominated  from  them. 

§  34.    7.    FIGURATIVE  SPEECH  ALSO  AN  ABUSE  OF  LANGUAGE. 

Since  wit  and  fancy  find  easier  entertainment  in  the  world  than 
dry  truth  and  real  knowledge,  figurative  speeches  and  allusion  in 
language  will  hardly  be  admitted  as  an  imperfection  or  abuse  of 
it.  I  confess  in  discourses  where  we  seek  rather  pleasure  and 
delight  than  information  and  improvement,  such  ornaments  as 
are  borrowed  from  them  can  scarce  pass  for  faults.  But  yet  if 
we  would  speak  of  things  as  they  are,  we  must  allow  that  all  the 
art  of  rhetoric,  besides  order  and  clearness,  all  the  artificial  and 
figurative  application  of  words  eloquence  hath  invented,  are  for 
nothing  else  but  to  insinuate  wrong  ideas,  move  the  passions,  and 
thereby  mislead  the  judgment,  and  so  indeed  are  perfect  cheats, 
and  therefore,  however  laudable  or  allowable  oratory  may  render 
them  in  harangues  and  popular  addresses,  they  are  certainly,  in 
all  discourses  that  pretend  to  inform  or  instruct,  wholly  to  be 
avoided;  and  where  truth  and  knowledge  are  concerned,  cannot 
but  be  thought  a  great  fault,  either  of  the  language  or  person  that 
makes  use  of  them.  What,  and  how  various  they  are,  will  be 
superfluous  here  to  take  notice  ;  the  books  of  rhetoric  which 
abound  in  the  world  will  instruct  those  who  want  to  be  informed: 
only  1  cannot  but  observe  how  little  the  preservation  and  im- 
provement of  truth  and  knowledge  is  the  care  and  concern  of 
mankind  ;  since  the  arts  of  fallacy  are  endowed  and  preferred.  It 
is  evident  how  much  men  love  to  deceive  and  be  deceived,  since 
rhetoric,  that  powerful  instrument  of  error  and  deceit,  has  its  es- 
tablished professors,  is  publicly  taught,  and  has  always  been  had 
In  gueat  repirtation  ;  and,  I  doubt  not.  but  it  will  be  thought  great 


CH.  xi.]  abuse  os  word*.  41 

boldness,  if  not  brutality  in  me,  to  have  said  thus  much  against  it. 
Eloquence,  like  the  fair  sex,  has  too  prevailing  beauties  in  it  to 
suffer  itself  ever  to  be  spoken  against.  And  it  is  in  vain  to  find 
fault  with  those  arts  of  deceiving  wherein  men  find  pleasure  to  be 
deceived. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


OF  THE  REMEDIES  OF  THE  FOREGOING    IMPERFECTIONS  AND 

ABUSES. 

<§   1.    THEY  ARE  WORTH   SEEKING. 

The  natural  and  improved  imperfections  of  languages  we  have 
seen  above  at  large  ;  and  speech  being  the  great  bond  that  holds 
society  together,  and  the  common  conduit  whereby  the  improve- 
ments of  knowledge  are  conveyed  from  one  man,  and  one  gene- 
ration, to  another;  it  would  well  deserve  our  most  serious  thoughts 
to  consider  what  remedies  are  to  be  found  for  the  inconveniencies 
above  mentioned. 

§  2.    ARE  NOT  EASY. 

I  am  not  so  vain  to  think,  that  any  one  can  pretend  to  attempt 
the  perfect  reforming  the  languages  of  the  world,  no,  not  so  much 
as  of  his  own  country,  without  rendering  himself  ridiculous.  To 
require  that  men  should  use  their  words  constantly  in  the  same 
sense,  and  for  none  but  determined  and  uniform  ideas,  would  be 
to  think  that  all  men  should  have  the  same  notions,  and  should 
talk  of  nothing  but  what  they  have  clear  and  distinct  ideas  of; 
which  is  not  to  be  expected  by  any  one,  who  hath  not  vanity 
enough  to  imagine  he  can  prevail  with  men  to  be  very  know- 
ing or  very  silent.  And  he  must  be  very  little  skilled  in  the 
world,  who  thinks  that  a  voluble  tongue  shall  accompany  only  a 
good  understanding;  or  that  men's  talking  much  or  little  should 
hold  proportion  only  to  their  knowledge, 

§  3.  BUT  VET  NECESSARY  TO  PHILOSOPHY. 

But  though  the  market  and  exchange  must  be  left  to  their  own 
ways  of  talking,  and  gossipings  not  be  robbed  of  their  ancient 
privilege;  though  the  schools  and  men  of  argument  would  per- 
haps take  it  amiss  to  have  any  thing  offered  to  abate  the  length, 
or  lessen  the  number,  of  their  disputes :  yet  methinks  those  who 
pretend  seriously  to  search  after  or  maintain  truth,  should  think 
themselves  obliged  to  study  how  they  might  deliver  themselves 
without  obscurity,  doubtfulness,  or  equivocation,  to  which  men*- 
words  are  naturally  liable,  if  care  be  not  taken. 


REMEDIES  01'  THE  IMPERFEC  ITuX  [BOOK  III. 

§  4.    MISUSE  OF  WORDS  THE  GREAT  CAUSE  OP  ERRORS. 

For  he  that  shall  well  consider  the  errors  and  obscurity,  the 
mistakes  and  confusion,  that  are  spread  in  the  world  by  an  ill  use 
of  words,  will  find  some  reason  to  doubt  whether  language,  as  it 
has  been  employed,  has  contributed  more  to  the  improvement  or 
hinderance  of  knowledge  among  mankind.  How  many  are  there 
that,  when  they  would  think  on  things,  fix  their  thoughts  only  on 
words,  especially  when  they  would  apply  their  minds  to  moral 
matters  ?  And  who  then  can  wonder,  if  the  result  of  such  con- 
templations and  reasonings,  about  little  more  than  sounds,  whilst 
the  ideas  they  annexed  to  them  are  very  confused  and  very 
unsteady,  or  perhaps  none  at  all, — who  can  wonder,  I  say,  that 
such  thoughts  and  reasonings  end  in  nothing  but  obscurity  and 
mistake,  without  any  clear  judgment  or  knowledge  ? 

§  5.    OBSTINACY. 

This  inconvenience,  in  an  ill  use  of  words,  men  suffer  in  their 
own  private  meditations  :  but  much  more  manifest  are  the  dis- 
orders which  follow  from  it,  in  conversation,  discourse,  and 
arguings  with  others.  For  language  being  the  great  conduit 
whereby  men  convey  their  discoveries,  reasonings,  and  know- 
ledge, from  one  to  another ;  he  that  makes  an  ill  use  of  it,  though 
he  does  not  corrupt  the  fountains  of  knowledge,  which  are  in 
things  themselves  ;  yet  he  does,  as  much  as  in  him  lies,  break  or 
stop  the  pipes,  whereby  it  is  distributed  to  the  public  use  and 
advantage  of  mankind.  He  that  uses  words  without  any  clear 
and  steady  meaning,  what  does  he  but  lead  himself  and  others 
into  errors  ?  And  he  that  designedly  does  it,  ought  to  be  looked 
on  as  an  enemy  to  truth  and  knowledge.  And  yet  who  can  won- 
der that  all  the  sciences  and  parts  of  knowledge  have  been  so 
overcharged  with  obscure  and  equivocal  terms,  and  insignificant 
and  doubtful  expressions,  capable  to  make  the  most  attentive  or 
quick-sighted  very  little  or  not  at  all  the  more  knowing  or  ortho- 
dox ;  since  subtilty,  in  those  who  make  profession  to  teach  or 
defend  truth,  hath  passed  so  much  for  a  virtue  :  a  virtue,  indeed, 
which,  consisting  for  the  most  part  in  nothing  but  the  fallacious 
and  illusory  use  of  obscure  or  deceitful  terms,  is  only  fit  to  make 
men  more  conceited  in  their  ignorance,  and  more  obstinate  in 
their  errors. 

§  6.    AND  WRANGLING. 

Let  us  look  into  the  books  of  controversy  of  any  kind  ;  there 
we  shall  see,  that  the  effect  of  obscure,  unsteady,  or  equivocal 
terms,  is  nothing  but  noise  and  wrangling  about  sounds,  without 
convincing  or  bettering  a  man's  understanding.  For  if  the  idea 
be  not  agreed  on  betwixt  the  speaker  and  hearer,  for  which 
the  words  stand,  the  argument  is  not  about  things,  but  names. 
As  often  as  such  a  word,  whose  signification  is  not  ascertained 
betwixt  them,  comes  in  use.  their  understandings  have  no  other 


CU»  XI.]  AHUSE    Ot<    WORUs.  4o 

object  wherein  they  agree,  but  barely  the  sound  ;  the  things  that 
they  think  on  at  that  time,  as  expressed  by  that  word,  being  quite 
different. 

§  7.    INSTANCE,  BAT  AND  BIRD. 

Whether  a  bat  be  a  bird  or  no,  is  not  a  question  ;  whether  a 
bat  be  another  thing  than  indeed  it  is,  or  have  o  her  qualities  than 
indeed  it  has,  for  that  would  be  extremely  absurd  to  doubt  of: 
but  the  question  is,  1.  Either  between  those  that  acknowledge 
themselves  to  have  but  imperfect  ideas  of  one  or  both  of  this 
sort  of  things,  for  which  these  names  are  supposed  to  stand ;  and 
then  it  is  a  real  inquiry  concerning  the  name  of  a  bird  or  a  bat, 
to  make  their  yet  imperfect  idt  as  of  it  more  complete,  by  exa- 
mining whether  all  the  simple  ideas,  to  which,  combined  together, 
they  both  give  the  name  bird,  be  all  to  be  found  in  a  bat:  but  this 
is  a  question  only  of  inquirers  (not  disputers,)  who  neither  affirm 
nor  deny,  but  examine.  Or,  2.  It  is  a  question  hetween  dispu- 
tants, whereof  trie  one  affirms,  and  the  other  denies,  that  a  bat  is 
a  bird.  And  then  the  question  is  barely  about  the  signification 
of  one  or  both  these  words  ;  in  that  they  not  having  both  the 
same  complex  ideas,  to  which  they  give  these  two  names,  one 
holds,  and  the  other  denies,  that  these  two  names  may  be  affirmed 
one  of  another.  Were  they  agreed  in  the  signification  of  these 
two  names,  it  were  impossible  they  should  dispute  about  them  : 
for  they  would  presently  and  clearly  see  (were  that  adjusted 
between  them)  whether  all  the  simple  ideas,  of  the  more  general 
name  bird,  were  found  in  the  complex  idea  of  a  bat,  or  no  ;  and  so 
there  could  be  no  doubt,  whether  a  bat  were  a  bird  or  no.  And 
here  I  desire  it  may  be  considered,  and  carefully  examined,  whe- 
ther the  greatest  part  of  the  disputes  in  the  world  are  not  merely 
verbal,  and  about  the  signification  of  words;  and  whether,  if 
the  terms  they  are  made  in  were  defined,  and  reduced  in  their 
signification  (as  they  must  be  where  they  signify  any  thing)  to 
determined  collections  of  the  simple  ideas  they  do  or  should 
stand  for,  those  disputes  would  not  end  of  themselves,  and 
immediately  vanish.  I  leave  it  then  to  be  considered,  what  the 
learning  of  disputation  is,  and  how  well  they  are  employed  for 
the  advantage  of  themselves  or  others,  whose  business  is  only 
the  vain  ostentation  of  sounds ;  i.  e.  those  who  spend  their  lives 
in  disputes  and  controversies.  When  I  shall  see  any  of  those 
combatants  strip  all  his  terms  of  ambiguity  and  obscurity  (which 
every  one  may  do  in  the  words  he  uses  himself)  1  shall  think 
him  a  champion  for  knowledge,  truth,  and  peace,  and  not  the 
slave  of  vainglory,  ambition,  or  a  party. 

§8. 
To  remedy  the  defects  of  speech  before  mentioned  to  some 
degree,  and  to  prevent  the  inconveniencics  that  follow  from 
thenv,  I  imagine  the  observation  of  these  following  rules  may  be 


44  REMEDIES  OP  THE  IMPERFECTION  [BOOK  III. 

of  use,  till  somebody  better  able  shall  judge  it  worth  his  while  to 
think  more  maturely  on  this  matter,  and  oblige  the  world  with 
his  thoughts  on  it. 

1.    REMEDY,  TO  USE  NO  WORD  WITHOUT  AN  IDEA. 

First,  a  man  shall  take  care  to  use  no  word  without  a  significa- 
tion, no  name  without  an  idea  for  which  he  makes  it  stand.  This 
rule  will  not  seem  altogether  neediess  to  any  one  who  shall  take 
the  pains  to  recollect  how  often  he  has  met  with  such  words,  as 
instinct,  sympathy,  and  antipathy,  &c.  in  the  discourse  of  others, 
so  made  use  of,  as  he  might  easily  conclude,  that  those  that  used 
them  had  no  ideas  in  their  minds  to  which  they  applied  them  ; 
but  spoke  them  only  as  sounds,  which  usually  served  instead  of 
reasons  on  the  like  occasions.  Not  but  that  these  words,  and 
the  like,  have  very  proper  significations  in  which  they  may  be 
used  ;  but  there  being  no  natural  connexion  between  any  words 
and  any  ideas,  these,  and  any  other,  may  be  learned  by  rote,  and 
pronounced  or  writ  by  men  who  have  no  ideas  in  their  minds  to 
which  they  have  annexed  them,  and  for  which  they  make  them 
stand  ;  which  is  necessary  they  should,  if  men  would  speak  intel- 
ligibly even  to  themselves  alone. 

§  9.    2.  TO  HAVE  DISTINCT    IDEAS  ANNEXED   TO  THEM  IN  MODES. 

Secondly,  it  is  not  enough  a  man  u*es  his  words  as  signs  of 
some  ideas  :  those  he  annexes  them  to,  if  they  be  simple,  must 
be  clear  and  distinct ;  if  complex,  must  be  determinate,  i.  e.  the 
precise  collection  of  simple  ideas  settled  in  the  mind,  with  that 
sound  annexed  to  it,  as  the  sign  of  that  precise  determined  col- 
lection, and  no  other.  This  is  very  necessary  in  names  of  modes, 
and  especially  moral  words  ;  which  having  no  settled  objects  in 
nature,  from  whence  their  ideas  are  taken,  as  from  their  original, 
are  apt  to  be  very  confuserj.  Justice  is  a  word  in  every  man's 
mouth,  but  most  commonly  with  a  very  undetermined  loose  sig- 
nification :  which  will  always  be  so,  unless  a  man  has  in  his  mind 
a  distinct  comprehension  of  the  component  parts  that  complex 
idea  consists  of:  and  if  it  be  decompounded,  must  be  able  to 
resolve  it  still  on,  till  he  at  last  comes  to  the  simple  ideas  that 
make  it  up  :  and  unless  this  be  done,  a  man  makes  an  ill  use  of 
the  word,  let  it  be  justice,  for  example,  or  any  other.  I  do  not 
say,  a  man  need  stand  to  recollect,  and  make  this  analysis  at 
large,  every  time  the  word  justice  comes  in  his  way  :  but  this  at 
least  is  necessary,  that  he  have  so  examined  the  signification  of 
that  name,  and  settled  the  idea  of  all  its  parts  in  his  mind,  that 
he  can  do  it  when  he  pleases.  If  one,  who  makes  his  complex 
idea  of  justice  to  be  such  a  treatment  of  the  person  or  goods  of 
another  as  is  according  to  law,  hath  not  a  clear  and  distinct  idea 
what  law  is,  which  makes  a  part  of  his  complex  idea  of  justice, 
it  is  plain  his  idea  of  justice  itself  will  be  confused  and  imper- 
fect.    This  exactness  will,  perhaps,  be  judged  very  troublesome  : 


CH.  XI. j  IBUSE  OF  WORDS.  lj 

and  therefore  most  men  will  think  they  may  be  excused  from 
settling  the  complex  ideas  of  mixed  modes  so  precisely  in  their 
minds.  But  yet  I  must  say,  till  this  be  done,  it  must  not  be  won- 
dered that  they  have  a  great  deal  of  obscurity  and  confusion  in 
their  own  minds,  and  a  great  deal  of  wrangling  in  their  discourse 
with  others. 

§  10.   AND  DISTINCT  AND  CONFORMABLE  IN  SUBSTANCES. 

In  the  names  of  substances,  for  a  right  use  of  them,  something 
more  is  required  than  barely  determined  ideas.  In  these  the 
names  must  also  be  conformable  to  things  as  they  exist  :  but  of 
this  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  more  at  large  by  and  by.  This 
exactness  is  absolutely  necessary  in  inquiries  after  philosophical 
knowledge,  and  in  controversies  about  truth.  And  though  it 
would  be  well  too  if  it  extended  itself  to  common  conversation, 
and  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life ;  yet  I  think  that  is  scarce  to  be 
expected.  Vulgar  notions  suit  vulgar  discourses  ;  and  both, 
though  confused  enough,  yet  serve  pretty  well  the  market  and 
the  wake.  Merchants  and  lovers,  cooks  and  tailors,  have  words 
wherewithal  to  despatch  their  ordinary  affairs  ;  and  so,  I  think, 
might  philosophers  and  disputants  too,  if  they  had  a  mind  to 
understand,  and  to  be  clearly  understood. 

§  11.  3.  PROPRIETY. 

Thirdly,  it  is  not  enough  that  men  have  ideas,  determined  ideas, 
for  which  they  make  these  signs  stand  :  but  they  must  also 
take  care  to  apply  their  words,  as  near  as  may  be,  to  such  ideas 
as  common  use  has  annexed  them  to.  For  words,  especially  of 
languages  already  framed,  being  no  man's  private  possession,  but 
the  common  measure  of  commerce  and  communication,  it  is  not 
for  any  one,  at  pleasure,  to  change  the  stamp  they  are  current  in, 
nor  alter  the  ideas  they  are  affixed  to  ;  or,  at  least,  when  there  is 
a  necessity  to  do  so,  he  is  bound  to  give  notice  of  it.  Men's 
intentions  in  speaking  are,  or  at  least  should  be,  to  be  under- 
stood ;  which  cannot  be  without  frequent  explanations,  demands, 
and  other  the  like  incommodious  interruptions,  where  men  do 
not  follow  common  use.  Propriety  of  speech  is  that  which 
gives  our  thoughts  entrance  into  other  men's  minds  with  the 
greatest  ease  and  advantage ;  and  therefore  deserves  some  part 
of  our  care  and  study,  especially  in  the  names  of  moral  words. 
The  proper  signification  and  use  of  terms  is  best  to  be 
learned  from  those  who  in  their  writings  and  discourses 
appear  to  have  had  the  clearest  notions,  and  applied  to  them 
their  terms  with  the  exactcst  choice  and  fitness.  This  way 
of  using  a  man's  words,  according  to  the  propriety  of  the  lan- 
guage, though  it  have  not  always  the  good  fortune  to  be  under- 
stood, yet  most  commonly  leaves  the  blame  of  it  on  him,  who  is 
so  unskilful  in  the  language  he  speaks,  as  not  to  understand  it. 
when  made  use  of  as  it  ought  to  be. 

Vor,.  IT. 


.1,  REMEDIES  OF  THE  IMPERFECTION1  [BOOK  111. 

§  12.     4.     TO  MAKE  KNOWN  THEIR  MEANING. 

Fourthly,  but  because  common  use  has  not  so  visibly  annexed 
any  signification  to  words,  as  to  make  men  know  always  certainly 
what  they  precisely  stand  for  ;  and  because  men,  in  the  improve- 
ment of  their  knowledge,  come  to  have  ideas  different  from  the 
vulgar  and  ordinary  received  ones,  for  which  they  must  either 
make  new  words  (which  men  seldom  venture  to  do,  for  fear  of 
being  thought  guilty  of  affectation  or  novelty)  or  else  must  use 
old  ones  in  a  new  signification :  therefore,  after  the  observation 
of  the  foregoing  rules,  it  is  sometimes  necessary,  for  the  ascer- 
taining the  signification  of  words,  to  declare  their  meaning  •, 
where  either  common  use  has  left  it  uncertain  and  loose  (as  it  has 
in  most  names  of  very  complex  ideas)  or  where  the  term,  being 
very  material  in  the  discourse,  and  that  upon  which  it  chiefly  turns. 
is  liable  to  any  doubtfulness  or  mistake. 

§  13.    AND  THAT  THREE  WAYS. 

As  the  ideas  men's  words  stand  for  are  of  different  sorts  ;  so 
the  way  of  making  known  the  ideas  they  stand  for,  when  there  is 
occasion,  is  also  different.  For  though  defining  be  thought  the 
proper  way  to  make  known  the  proper  signification  of  words,  yet 
there  are  some  words  that  will  not  be  defined,  as  there  are  others, 
whose  precise  meaning  cannot  be  made  known  but  by  definition  ; 
and  perhaps  a  third,  which  partake  somewhat  of  both  the  other, 
as  we  shall  see  in  the  names  of  simple  ideas,  modes,  and  sub- 
stances. 

§  14.     1.    IN  SIMPLE  IDEAS,  BY  SYNONYMOUS  TERMS,  OR  SHOWING. 

First,  when  a  man  makes  use  of  the  name  of  any  simple  idea, 
which  he  perceives  is  not  understood,  or  is  in  danger  to  be  mis- 
taken, he  is  obliged  by  the  laws  of  ingenuity,  and  the  end  of 
speech,  to  declare  his  meaning,  and  make  known  what  idea  he 
makes  it  stand  for.  This,  as  has  been  shown,  cannot  be  done  by 
definition  ;  and  therefore,  when  a  synonymous  word  fails  to  do  it, 
there  is  but  one  of  these  ways  left.  First,  sometimes  the  naming 
the  subject,  wherein  that  simple  idea  is  to  be  found,  will  make  its 
name  to  be  understood  by  those  who  are  acquainted  with  that  sub- 
ject, and  know  it  by  that  name.  So  to  make  a  countryman  un- 
derstand what  "  feuille-morte"  colour  signifies,  it  may  suffice  to 
tell  him,  it  is  the  colour  of  withered  leaves  falling  in  autumn. 
Secondly,  but  the  only  sure  way  of  making  known  the  significa- 
tion of  the  name  of  any  simple  idea  is  by  presenting  to  his  senses 
that  subject  which  may  produce  it  in  his  mind,  and  make  him  ac- 
tually have  the  idea  that  word  stands  for. 

§   15.    2.  IN  MIXED  MODES,  BY  DEFINITION. 

Secondly,  mixed  modes,  especially  those  belonging  to  morality, 
being  most  of  them  such  combinations  of  ideas  as  the  mind  puts 
together  of  its  own  choice,  and  whereof  there  are.  not  alwa*  * 


,.  H.   XI. J  AND  ABUSE  OF  WORD.-. 

standing  patterns  to  be  found  existing;  the  signification  of  their 
names  cannot  be  made  known,  as  those  of  simple  ideas,  by  any 
showing;  but,  in  recompense  thereof,  may  be  perfectly  and 
exactly  defined.  For  they  being  combinations  of  several  ideas, 
that  the  mind  of  man  has  arbitrarily  put  together,  without  refer- 
ence to  any  archetypes,  men  may,  if  they  please,  exactly  know 
the  ideas  that  go  to  each  composition,  and  so  both  use  these 
words  in  a  certain  and  undoubted  signification,  and  perfectly 
declare,  when  there  is  occasion,  what  they  stand  for.  This,  if  well 
considered,  would  lay  great  blame  on  those  who  make  not  their 
discourses  about  moral  things  very  clear  and  distinct.  For  since 
the  precise  signification  of  the  names  of  mixed  modes,  or,  which 
is  all  one,  the  real  essenee  of  each  species  is  to  be  known,  they 
being  notof  nature's  but  man's  making,  itis  a  great  negligence  and 
perverseness  to  discourse  of  moral  things  with  uncertainty  and 
obscurity  ;  which  is  more  pardonable  in  treating  of  natural  sub- 
stances, where  doubtful  terms  are  hardly  to  be  avoided,  for  a 
quite  contrary  reason,  as  we  shall  see  by  and  by. 

§   16.    MORALITY  CAPABLE  OF  DEMONSTRATION. 

Upon  this  ground  it  is,  that  I  am  bold  to  think  that  morality  i- 
capable  of  demonstration,  as  well  as  mathematics  ;  since  the 
precise  real  essence  of  the  things  moral  words  stand  for  may  be 
perfectly  known  ;  and  so  the  congruity  and  incongruity  of  the 
things  themselves  be  certainly  discovered  ;  in  which  consists 
perfect  knowledge.  Nor  let  any  one  object,  that  the  names  of 
substances  are  often  to  be  made  use  of  in  morality,  as  well  as 
those  of  modes,  from  which  will  arise  obscurity.  For  as  to  sub- 
stances, when  concerned  in  moral  discourses,  their  divers  natures 
are  not  so  much  inquired  into  as  supposed  ;  v.  g.  when  we  say 
that  man  is  subject  to  law,  we  mean  nothing  by  man  but  a  cor- 
poreal rational  creature  :  what  the  real  essence  or  other  qualities 
of  that  creature  are,  in  this  case,  is  noway  considered.  And 
therefore,  whether  a  child  or  changeling  be  a  man  in  a  physical 
sense,  may  among  the  naturalists  be  as  disputable  as  it  will,  it 
concerns  not  at  all  the  moral  man,  as  I  may  call  him,  which  is 
this  immoveable  unchangeable  idea,  a  corporeal  rational  being. 
For  were  there  a  monkey,  or  any  other  creature,  to  be  found,  that 
has  the  use  of  reason  to  such  a  degree  as  to  be  able  to  understand 
general  signs,  and  to  deduce  consequences  about  general  idea^.  he 
would  no  doubt  be  subject  to  law,  and  in  that  sense  be  a  man. 
how  much  soever  he  differed  in  shape  from  others  of  that  name. 
The  names  of  substances,  if  they  be  used  in  them  as  they  should, 
can  no  more  disturb  moral  than  they  do  mathematical  dis- 
courses :  where,  if  the  mathematician  speaks  of  a  cube  or  globe 
of  gold,  or  any  other  body,  he  has  his  clear  settled  idea  whirl* 
varies  not,  though  it  may  by  mistake  be  applied  to  a  particular 
body  to  which  it  belongs  not. 


4o  REMEDIED  OF  THE  IMPERFECTION  [bOOKHI. 

§   17.    DEFINITIONS  CAN  MAKE  MORAL  DISCOURSES  CLEAR; 

This  I  have  here  mentioned  by  the  by,  to  show  of  what  conse- 
quence it  is  for  men,  in  their  names  of  mixed  modes,  and  conse- 
quently in  all  their  moral  discourses,  to  define  their  words  when 
there  is  occasion  :  since  thereby  moral  knowledge  may  be  brought 
to  so  great  clearness  and  certainty.  And  it  must  be  great  want 
of  ingenuity  (to  say  no  worse  of  it)  to  refuse  to  do  it :  since  a  de- 
finition is  the  only  way  whereby  the  precipe  meaning  of  moral 
words  can  be  known  ;  and  yet  a  way  whereby  their  meaning  may 
be  known  certainly,  and  without  leaving  any  room  for  any  con- 
test about  it.  And  therefore  the  negligence  or  perverseness  of 
mankind  cannot  be  excused,  if  their  discourses  in  morality  be  not 
much  more  clear  than  those  in  natural  philosophy  ;  since  they  are 
about  ideas  in  the  mind,  which  are  none  of  them  false  or  dispro- 
portionate :  they  having  no  external  beings  for  the  archetypes 
which  they  are  referred  to,  and  must  correspond  with.  It  is  far 
easier  for  men  to  frame  in  their  minds  an  idea  which  shall  be  the 
standard  to  which  they  will  give  the  name  justice,  with  which.pat- 
tern,  so  made,  all  actions  that  agree  shall  pass  under  that  denomi- 
nation ;  than,  having  seen  Aristides,  to  frame  an  idea  that  shall  in 
all  things  be  exactly  like  him  :  who  is  as  he  is,  let  men  make  what 
idea  they  please  of  him.  For  the  one,  they  need  but  know  the 
combination  of  ideas  that  are  put  together  in  their  own  minds  ; 
for  the  other,  they  must  inquire  into  the  whole  nature,  and  abstruse- 
hidden  constitution,  and  various  qualities  of  a  thing  existing  with- 
out them. 

§    18.    AND  IS  THE  ONLY  WAY. 

Another  reason  that  makes  the  defining  of  mixed  modes  so 
necessary,  especially  of  moral  words,  is  what  I  mentioned  a  little 
before,  viz.  that  it  is  the  only  way  whereby  the  signification  of 
the  most  of  them  can  be  known  with  certainty.  For  the  ideas 
they  stand  for  being  for  the  most  part  such  whose  component 
parts  nowhere  exist  together,  but  scattered  and  mingled  with 
others,  it  is  the  mind  alone  that  collects  them,  and  gives  them  the 
union  of  one  idea:  and  it  is  only  by  words,  enumerating  the  several 
simple  ideas  which  the  mind  has  united,  that  we  can  make 
known  to  others  what  their  names  stand  for  ;  the  assistance  of  the 
senses  in  this  case  not  helping  us,  by  the  proposal  of  sensible 
objects,  to  show  the  ideas  which  our  names  of  this  kind  stand  for, 
as  it  does  often  in  the  names  of  sensible  simple  ideas,  and  also  to 
some  degree  in  those  of  substances. 

§   19.    3.    IN  SUBSTANCES,  BY   SHOWING   AND  DEFINING. 

Thirdly,  for  the  explaining  the  signification  of  the  names  of 
substances,  as  they  stand  for  the  ideas  we  have  of  their  distinct 
species,  both  the  fore-mentioned  ways,  viz.  of  showing  and  defi- 
ning, are  requisite  in  many  cases  to  be  made  use  of.  For  there 
being  ordinarily  in  each  sort  some  leading  qualities,  to  which  we 


CH.  XI.]  AND  ABUSE  OF  WORDS.  & 

suppose  the  other  ideas,  which  make  up  our  complex  idea  of  that 
species,  annexed ;  we  forwardly  give  the  specific  name  to  that 
thing,  wherein  that  characteristical  mark  is  found,  which  we  take 
to  be  the  most  distinguishing  idea  of  that  species.  These  leading 
or  characteristical  (as  1  may  call  them)  ideas,  in  the  sorts  of 
animals  and  vegetables,  are  (as  has  been  before  remarked,  ch.  vi. 
§29.  and  ch.  ix.  §  16.)  mostly  figure,  and  in  inanimate  bodies 
colour,  and  in  some  both  together.     Now, 

§  20.    IDEAS  OF  THE  LEADING   QUALITIES    OF  SUBSTANCES  ARE  BEST 
GOT    BY   SHOWING. 

Theseleading  sensible  qualities  are  those  which  make  the  chief 
ingredients  of  our  specific  ideas,  and  consequently  the  most 
observable  and  invariable  part  in  the  definitions  of  our  specific 
names,  as  attributed  to  sorts  of  substances  coming  under  our 
knowledge.  For  though  the  sound  man,  in  its  own  nature,  be 
as  apt  to  signify  a  complex  idea,  made  up  of  animality  and  ration- 
ality, united  in  the  same  subject,  as  to  signify  any  other  combina- 
tion ;  yet  used  as  a  mark  to  stand  for  a  sort  of  creatures  we  count 
of  our  own  kind,  perhaps,  the  outward  shape  is  as  necessary  to  be 
taken  into  our  complex  idea,  signified  by  the  word  man,  as  any 
other  we  find  in  it :  and  therefore  why  Plato's  "  animal  implume 
bipes  lalis  unguibus''''  should  not  be  a  good  definition  of  the  name 
man,  standing  for  that  sort  of  creatures,  will  not  be  easy  to  show : 
for  it  is  the  shape,  as  the  leading  quality,  that  seems  more  to 
determine  that  species  than  a  faculty  of  reasoning,  which  appears 
not  at  first,  and  in  some  never.  And  if  this  be  not  allowed  to  be 
so,  I  do  not  know  how  they  can  be  excused  from  murder  who 
kill  monstrous  births,  (as  we  call  them;  because  of  an  unordinary 
shape,  without  knowing  whether  they  have  a  rational  soul  or  no  ; 
which  can  be  no  more  discerned  in  a  well-formed  than  ill-shaped 
infant,  as  soon  as  born.  And  who  is  it  has  informed  us,  that  a 
rational  soul  can  inhabit  no  tenement,  unless  it  has  just  such  a 
sort  of  frontispiece  ;  or  can  join  itself  to,  and  inform  no  sort  of 
body  but  one  that  is  just  of  such  an  outward  structure  ? 

§21. 

Now  these  leading  qualities  are  best  made  known  by  showing, 
and  can  hardly  be  made  known  otherwise.  For  the  shape  of  an 
horse,  or  cassiowary,will  be  but  rudely  and  imperfectly  imprinted 
on  the  mind  by  words  ;  the  sight  of  the  animals  doth  it  a  thousand 
times  better:  and  the  idea  of  the  particular  colour  of  gold  is  not 
to  be  got  by  any  description  of  it,  but  only  by  the  frequent  exer- 
cise of  the  eyes  about  it,  as  is  evident  in  those  who  are  used  to 
this  metal,  who  will  frequently  distinguish  true  from  counterfeit, 
pure  from  adulterate,  by  the  sight ;  where  others  (who  have  as 
good  eyes,  but  yet  by  use  have  not  got  the  precise  nice  idea  of 
that  peculiar  yellow)  shall  not  perceive  any  difference.  The 
like  may  be  said  of  those  other  simple  ideas,  peculiar  in  their 
kind  to  any  substance,  for  which  precise  ideas  there  are  no  pecu* 


00  REMEDIES  OF  THE  IMPERFECTION  f  BOOK  IH, 

liar  names.  The  particular  ringing  sound  there  is  in  gold,  distinct 
from  the  sound  of  other  bodies,  has  no  particular  name  annexed 
to  it,  no  more  than  the  particular  yellow  that  belongs  to  that 
metal. 

§  22.    THE  IDEAS  OF  THEIR  POWERS  BEST  BY  DEFINITION. 

But  because  many  of  the  simple  ideas  that  make  up  our  specific 
ideas  of  substances  are  powers  which  lie  not  obvious  to  our 
senses  in  the  things  as  they  ordinarily  appear ;  therefore  in  the 
signification  of  our  names  of  substances,  some  part  of  the  signifi- 
cation will  be  better  made  known  by  enumerating  those  simple 
ideas  than  by  showing  the  substance  itself.  For  he  that  to  the 
yellow  shining  colour  of  gold  got  by  sight,  shall,  from  my  enume- 
rating them,  have  the  ideas  of  great  ductility,  fusibility,  fixedness, 
and  solubility  in  aq.  regia,  will  have  a  perfecter  idea  of  gold  than 
he  can  have  by  seeing  a  piece  of  gold,  and  thereby  imprinting  in 
his  mind  only  its  obvious  qualities.  But  if  the  formal  constitution 
of  this  shining,  heavy,  ductile  thing  (from  whence  all  these  its 
properties  flow)  lay  open  to  our  senses,  as  the  formal  constitution 
or  essence  of  a  triangle  does,  the  signification  of  the  word  gold 
might  as  easily  be  ascertained  as  that  of  triangle. 

§  23.    A  REFLECTION  ON  THE  KNOWLEDGE  OF  SPIRITS. 

Hence  we  may  take  notice  how  much  the  foundation  of  all 
our  knowledge  of  corporeal  things  lies  in  our  senses.  For  how 
spirits,  separate  from  bodies  (whose  knowledge  and  ideas  of  these 
things  are  certainly  much  more  perfect  than  ours)  know  them,  we 
have  no  notion,  no  idea  at  all.  The  whole  extent  of  our  know- 
ledge or  imagination  reaches  not  beyond  our  own  ideas  limited 
to  our  ways  of  perception.  Though  yet  it  be  not  to  be  doubted 
that  spirits  of  a  higher  rank  than  those  immersed  in  flesh  may 
have  as  clear  ideas  of  the  radical  constitution  of  substances,  as 
we  have  of  a  triangle,  and  so  perceive  how  all  their  properties 
and  operations  flow  from  thence  :  but  the  manner  how  they  come 
by  that  knowledge  exceeds  our  conceptions. 

§  24.  4.  IDEAS  ALSO  OF  SUBSTANCES  MUST  BE  CONFORMABLE  TO  THINGS. 

But  though  definitions  will  serve  to  explain  the  names  of  sub- 
stances as  they  stand  for  our  ideas  ;  yet  they  leave  them  not  with- 
out great  imperfection  as  they  stand  for  things.  For  our  names 
of  substances  being  not  put  barely  for  our  ideas,  but  being  made 
use  of  ultimately  to  represent  things,  and  so  are  put  in  their 
place  ;  their  signification  must  agree  with  the  truth  of  things  as 
well  as  with  men's  ideas.  And  therefore  in  substances  we  are 
not  always  to  rest  in  the  ordinary  complex  idea,  commonly  re- 
ceived as  the  signification  of  that  word,  but  must  go  a  little  farther, 
and  inquire  into  the  nature  and  properties  of  the  things  them- 
selves, and  thereby  perfect,  as  much  as  we  can,  our  ideas  of  their 
distinct  species ;  or  else  learn  them  from  such  as  are  used  to  that 


H.  XI. J  AND  ABUSE  OF  WOKD^.  61 

sort  of  things,  and  arc  experienced  in  them.  For  since  it  is  in- 
tended their  names  should  stand  for  such  collections  of  simple 
ideas  as  do  really  exist  in  things  themselves,  as  well  as  for  the 
complex  idea  in  other  men's  minds,  which  in  their  ordinary 
acceptation  they  stand  for  :  therefore  to  define  their  names  right, 
natural  history  is  to  be  inquired  into  ;  and  their  properties  are, 
with  care  and  examination,  to  be  found  out.  For  it  is  not  enough, 
for  the  avoiding  inconveniences  in  discourse  and  arguings  about 
natural  bodies  and  substantial  things,  to  have  learned,  from  the 
propriety  of  the  language,  the  common,  but  confused,  or  very 
imperfect  idea,  to  which  each  word  is  applied,  and  to  keep  them 
to  that  idea  in  our  use  of  them  ;  but  we  must,  by  acquainting  our- 
selves with  the  history  of  that  sort  of  things,  rectify  and  settle  our 
complex  idea  belonging  to  each  specific  name  ;  and  in  discourse 
with  others,  (if  we  find  them  mistake  us)  we  ought  to  tell  what 
the  complex  idea  is,  that  we  make  such  a  name  stand  for.  This 
is  the  more  necessary  to  be  done  by  all  those  who  search  after 
knowledge  and  philosophical  verity,  in  that  children,  being  taught 
words  whilst  they  have  but  imperfect  notions  of  things,  apply 
them  at  random,  and  without  much  thinking,  and  seldom  frame 
determined  ideas  to  be  signified  by  them.  Which  custom  (it 
being  easy,  and  serving  well  enough  for  the  ordinary  affairs  of 
life  and  conversation)  they  are  apt  to  continue  when  they  are 
men :  and  so  begin  at  the  wrong  end,  learning  words  first  and 
perfectly,  but  make  the  notions  to  which  they  apply  those  words 
afterward  very  overtly.  By  this  means  it  comes  to  pass,  that 
men  speaking  the  proper  language  of  their  country,  i.  e.  accord- 
ing to  grammar  rules  of  that  language,  do  yet  speak  very  impro- 
perly of  things  themselves  ;  and,  by  their  arguing  one  with  ano- 
ther, make  but  small  progress  in  the  discoveries  of  useful  truths, 
and  the  knowledge  of  things,  as  they  are  to  be  found  in  them- 
selves, and  not  in  our  imaginations ;  and  it  matters  not  much,  for 
the  improvement  of  our  knowledge,  how  they  are  called. 

§  25.  NOT  EASY  TO  BE  MADE  SO. 

It  were  therefore  to  be  wished,  that  men,  versed  in  physical 
inquiries,  and  acquainted  with  the  several  sorts  of  natural  bodies, 
would  set  down  those  simple  ideas,  wherein  they  observe  the 
individuals  of  each  sort,  constantly  to  agree.  This  would  remedy 
a  great  deal  of  that  confusion  which  comes  from  several  persons 
applying  the  same  name  to  a  collection  of  a  smaller  or  greater 
number  of  sensible  qualities,  proportionably  as  they  have  been 
more  or  less  acquainted  with,  or  accurate  in  examining  the 
qualities  of  any  sort  of  things  which  come  under  one  denomi- 
nation. But  a  dictionary  of  this  sort  containing,  as  it  were, 
a  natural  history,  requires  too  many  hands,  as  well  as  too  much 
time,  cost,  pains,  and  sagacity,  ever  to  be  hoped  for;  and  till  that 
be  done,  we  must  content  ourselves  with  such  definitions  of  the 
names  of  substances  as  explain  the  sense  men  use  them  in.     And 


REMEDIES    OF    THE    IMPERFECTION  [BOOK  ItJ*s 

it  would  be  well,  where  there  is  occasion,  if  they  would  afford 
us  so  much.  This  yet  is  not  usually  done ;  but  men  talk  to  one 
another,  and  dispute  in  words,  whose  meaning  is  not  agreed 
between  them,  out  of  a  mistake,  that  the  significations  of  common 
words  are  certainly  established,  and  the  precise  ideas  they  stand 
for  perfectly  known  ;  and  that  it  is  a  shame  to  be  ignorant  of 
them.  Both  which  suppositions  are  false  :  no  names  of  com- 
plex ideas  having  so  settled  determined  significations,  that  they 
are  constantly  used  for  the  same  precise  ideas.  Nor  is  it  a  shame 
for  a  man  not  to  have  a  certain  knowledge  of  any  thing,  but  by 
the  necessary  ways  of  attaining  it  ;  and  so  it  is  no  discredit  not 
to  know  what  precise  idea  any  sound  stands  for  in  another  man's 
mind,  without  he  declare  it  to  me  by  some  other  way  than  barely 
using  that  sound  ;  there  being  no  other  way,  without  such  a  decla- 
ration, certainly  to  know  it.  Indeed,  the  necessity  of  communi- 
cation by  language  brings  men  to  an  agreement  in  the  signification 
of  common  words,  within  some  tolerable  latitude,  that  may  serve 
for  ordinary  conversation :  and  so  a  man  cannot  be  supposed 
wholly  ignorant  of  the  ideas  which  are  annexed  to  words  by 
common  use,  in  a  language  familiar  to  him.  But  common  use, 
being  but  a  very  uncertain  rule,  which  reduces  itself  at  last  to 
the  ideas  of  particular  men,  proves  often  but  a  very  variable  stan- 
dard. But  though  such  a  dictionary,  as  I  have  above  mentioned, 
will  require  too  much  time,  cost,  and  pains,  to  be  hoped  for  in 
this  age ;  yet  methinks  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  propose,  that 
words  standing  for  things,  which  are  known  and  distinguished  by 
their  outward  shapes,  should  be  expressed  by  little  draughts  and 
prints  made  of  them.  A  vocabulary  made  after  this  fashion 
would,  perhaps,  with  more  ease,  and  in  less  time,  teach  the  true 
signification  of  many  terms,  especially  in  languages  of  remote 
countries  or  ages,  and  settle  truer  ideas  in  men's  minds  of  several 
things,  whereof  we  read  the  names  in  ancient  authors,  than  all 
the  large  and  laborious  comments  of  learned  critics.  Natura- 
lists, that  treat  of  plants  and  animals,  have  found  the  benefit  of 
this  way:  and  he  that  has  had  occasion  to  consult  them,  will  have 
reason  to  confess,  that  he  has  a  clearer  idea  of  apium  or  ihex, 
from  a  little  print  of  that  herb  or  beast,  than  he  could  have  from 
a  long  definition  of  the  names  of  either  of  them.  And  so  no 
doubt  he  would  have  of  strigil  and  sistrum,  if,  instead  of  curry- 
comb and  cymbal,  which  are  the  English  names  dictionaries  ren- 
der them  by,  he  could  see  stamped  in  the  margin  small  pictures 
of  these  instruments,  as  they  were  in  use  among  the  ancients. 
"  Toga,  tunica,  pallium,"  are  words  easily  translated  by  gown, 
coat,  and  cloak  ;  but  we  have  thereby  no  more  true  ideas  of  the 
fashion  of  those  habits  among  the  Romans  that  we  have  of  the 
faces  of  the  tailors  who  made  them.  Such  things  as  these, 
which  the  eye  distinguishes  by  their  shapes,  would  be  best 
let  into  the  mind  by  draughts  made  of  them,  and  more  deter- 
mine the  signification   of   such   words   than  any  other  words 


CH.  XI.]  ABUSE  OP  WORDS.  yj 

set  for  them,  or  made  use  of  to  define  them.     But  this  only  by 
the  by. 

§  26.    5.    BY  CONSTANCY  IN  THEIH  SIGNIFICATION. 

Fifthly,  if  men  will  not  be  at  the  pains  to  declare  the  mean- 
ing of  their  words,  and  definitions  of  their  terms  are  not  to  be 
had  ;  yet  this  is  the  least  that  can  be  expected,  that  in  all  dis- 
courses, wherein  one  man  pretends  to  instruct  or  convince 
another,  he  should  use  the  same  word  constantly  in  the  same 
sense:  if  this  were  done  (which  nobody  can  refuse  without  great 
disingenuity,)  many  of  the  books  extant  might  be  spared  ;  many 
of  the  controversies  in  dispute  would  be  at  an  end ;  several 
of  those  great  volumes,  swoln  with  ambiguous  words,  now  used 
in  one  sense,  and  by  and  by  in  another,  would  shrink  into  a 
very  narrow  compass  ;  and  many  of  the  philosophers'  (to  mention 
no  other)  as  well  as  poets'  works,  might  be  contained  in  a  nut- 
shell. 

§  27.    WHEN  THE  VARIATION  IS  TO  BE  EXPLAINED. 

But  after  all,  the  provision  of  words  is  so  scanty  in  respect  oi" 
that  infinite  variety  of  thoughts,  that  men,  wanting  terms  to  suit 
their  precise  notions,  will,  notwithstanding  their  utmost  caution, 
be  forced  often  to  use  the  same  word  in  somewhat  different 
senses.  And  though  in  the  continuation  of  a  discourse,  or  the 
pursuit  of  an  argument,  there  can  be  hardly  room  to  digress  into 
a  particular  definition,  as  often  as  a  man  varies  the  signification 
of  any  term  ;  yet  the  import  of  the  discourse  will,  for  the  most 
part,  if  there  be  no  designed  fallacy,  sufficiently  lead  candid  and 
intelligent  readers  into  the  true  meaning  of  it :  but  where  that 
is  not  sufficient  to  guide  the  reader,  there  it  concerns  the  writer 
to  explain  his  meaning,  and  show  in  what  sense  he  there  use? 
that  term. 


Vol .  II. 


5A 


BOOK  rv\ 

QF  KNOWLEDGE  AND  OPINION. 


CHAPTER  T. 

OF  KNOWLEDGE  IN  GENERAL. 


§    i.    OUR  KNOWLEDGE  CONVERSANT  ABOUT  OUR  IDEAS. 

Since  the  mind,  in  all  its  thoughts  and  reasonings,  hath  no  other 
immediate  object  but  its  own  ideas,  which  it  alone  does,  or  can 
contemplate,  it  is  evident,  that  our  knowledge  is  only  conversant 
about  them. 

r 

§  2.    KNOWLEDGE  IS  THE  PERCEPTION  OF  THE  AGREEMENT  OR  DISAGREE- 
MENT OF  TWO  IDEAS. 

Knowledge  then  seems  to  me  to  be  nothing  but  the  perception  of 
the  connexion  or  agreement,  or  disagreement  and  repugnancy  of 
any  of  our  ideas.  In  this  alone  it  consists.  Where  this  perception 
is,  there  is  knowledge  :  and  where  it  is  not,  there,  though  we  may 
fancy,  guess,  or  believe,  yet  we  always  come  short  of  knowledge. 
For  when  we  know  that  white  is  not  black,  what  do  we  else  but 
perceive  that  these  two  ideas  do  not  agree  1  when  we  possess 
ourselves  with  the  utmost  security  of  the  demonstration,  that 
the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal  to  two  right  ones,  what 
do  we  more  but  perceive,  that  equality  to  two  right  ones,  does 
necessarily  agree  to,  and  is  inseparable  from,  the  three  angles  of 
a  triangle  ?  ( 1 ) 

(1)  The  placing  of  certainty,  as  Mr.  Locke  does,  in  the  perception  of  the  agree- 
ment or  disagreement  of  our  ideas,  the  bishop  of  Worcester  suspects  may  be  of 
dangerous  consequence  to  that  article  of  faith  which  he  has  endeavoured  to 
defend  ;  to  which  Mr.  Locke  answers,**  Since  your  lordship  hath  not,  as  I  remem- 
ber, shown,  or  gone  about  to  show,  how  this  proposition,  viz.  that  certainty  con- 
sists in  the  perception  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  two  ideas,  is  opposite 
or  inconsistent  with  that  article  of  faith  which  your  lordship  has  endeavoured  to 
defend ;  it  is  plain,  it  is  but  your  lordship's  fear,  that  it  may  be  of  dangerous  con- 
sequence to  it,  which,  as  I  humbly  conceive,  is  no  proof  that  it  is  any  way  incon- 
sistent with  that  article. 

Nobody,  I  think,  can  blame  your  lordship,  or  any  one  else,  for  being  concerned 
for  any  article  of  the  Christian  fai^-h  :  but  if  that  concern  (as  it  may,  and  as  we 
know  it  has  done)  makes  any  one  apprehend  danger,  where  no  danger  is,'  are 
we,  therefore,  to  give  up  and  condemn  any  proposition,  because  any  one,  though 
of  the  first  rn-nk  and  magnitude,  fears  it  may  be  of  dangerous  consequence  to  any 
n  Tn  K's  sprnnil  Lettpr  m  the  Bishop  of  Worcestrr. 


§  3.  THIS  AGREEMENT  FOURFOLD. 

But  to  understand  a  little  more  distinctly,  wherein  this  agree- 
ment or  disagreement  consists,  1  think  we  may  reduce  it  all  to 
these  four  sorts  : 

truth  of  religion,  without  showing;  that  it  is  so  ?  If  such  fears  be  the  measures 
whereby  to  judge  of  truth  and  falsehood,  the  affirming  that  there  are  antipodes 
would  be  still  a  heresy ;  and  the  doctrine  of  the  motion  of  the  earth  must  be 
rejected,  as  overthrowing  the  truth  of  the  Scripture ;  for  of  that  dangerous  con- 
sequence it  has  been  apprehended  to  be,  by  many  learned  and  pious  divines,  out 
of  their  great  concern  for  religion.  And  yet,  notwithstanding  those  great  appre- 
hensions of  what  dangerous  consequence  it  might  befct  is  now  universally  received 
by  learned  men,  as  an  undoubted  truth ;  and  writ  for  by  some,  whose  belief  of  the 
Scripture  is  not  at  all  questioned  ;  and  particularly,  very  lately,  by  a  divine  of  the 
church  of  England,  with  great  strength  of  reason,  in  his  wonderfully  ingenious 
New  Theory  of  the  Earth. 

The  reason  your  lordship  gives  of^Loar  fears,  that  it  may  be  of  such  dangerous 
consequence  to  that  article  of  fai-*<i  which  your  lordship  endeavours  to  defend, 
though  it  occur  in  more  places  fran  one,  is  only  this,  viz.  That  it  is  made  use  of 
by  ill  men  to  do  mischief,  i.  e.  *>  oppose  that  article  of  faith  which  your  lordship 
hath  endeavoured  to  defend-  But.  my  lord,  if  it  be  a  reason  to  lay  by  any  thing 
as  bad,  because  it  is,  or  m-y  t>G  used  1°  «n  ill  purpose,  I  know  not  what  will  be 
innocent  enough  to  be  k^pt.  Arms,  which  were  made  for  our  defence,  are  some- 
times made  use  of  to  do  mischief ;  and  yet  they  are  not  thought  of  dangerous  con- 
sequence for  all  that.  Nobody  lays  by  his  sword  and  pistols,  or  thinks  them  of 
such  dangerous  consequence  as  to  be  neglected,  or  thrown  away,  because  robbers, 
and  the  worst  of  men,  sometimes  make  use  of  them  to  take  away  honest  men's 
lives  or  goods.  And  the  reason  is,  because  they  were  designed,  and  will  serve  to 
preserve  them.  And  who  knows  but  this  may  be  the  present  case  ?  If  your  lord- 
ship thinks,  that  placing  of  certainty  in  the  perception  of  the  agreement  or  dis- 
agreement of  ideas  be  to  be  rejected  as  false,  because  you  apprehend  it  may  be  of 
dangerous  consequence  to  that  article  of  faith  :  on  the  other  side.,  perhaps  others, 
with  me,  may  think:  it  a  defence  against  error,  and  so  (as  being  of  good  use)  to  be 
received  and  adhered  to. 

I  would  not,  my  lord,  be  hereby  thought  to  set  up  my  own,  or  any  one's  judg- 
ment agahist  your  lordship's.  But  I  have  said  this  only  to  show,  whilst  the  argu- 
ment lies  for  or  against  the  truth  of  any  proposition,  barely  in  an  imagination  that 
it  may  be  of  consequence  to  the  supporting  or  overthrowing  of  any  remote  truth  ; 
it  will  be  impossible,  that  way,  to  determine  of  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  that  pro- 
position. For  imagination  will  be  set  up  against  imagination,  and  the  stronger 
probably  will  be  against  your  lordship  ;  the  strongest  imaginations  being  usually 
in  the  weakest  heads.  The  only  way,  in  this  case,  to  put  it  past  doubt,  is  to  show 
the  inconsistency  of  the  two  propositions;  and  then  it  will  be  seen,  that  one 
overthrows  the  other  ;  the  true,  the  false  one. 

Your  lordship  says,  indeed,  this  is  a  new  method  of  certainty.  I  will  not  say  so 
myself,  for  fear  of  deserving  a  second  reproof  from  your  lordship,  for  being  too  for- 
ward to  assume  to  myself  the  honour  of  being  an  original.  But  this,  I  think,  gives 
me  occasion,  and  will  excuse  me  from  being  thought  impertinent,  if  I  ask  your 
lordship,  whether  there  be  any  other,  or  older  method  of  certainty  ?  and  what 
it  is  ?  For,  if  there  be  no  other,  nor  older  than  this,  either  this  was  always  the 
method  of  certainty,  and  so  mine  is  no  new  one  ;  or  else  the  world  is  obliged  to 
me  for  this  new  one,  after  having  been  so  long  in  the  want  of  so  necessary  a  thin°- 
as  a  method  of  certainty.  If  there  be  an  older,  I  am  sure  your  lordship  cannot  but 
know  it ;  your  condemning  mine  as  new,  as  well  as  your  thorough  insight  into 
antiquity,  cannot  but  satisfy  every  body  that  you  do.  And  therefore  to  set  the 
world  right  in  a  thing  of  that  great  concernment,  and  to  overthrow  mine,  and 
thereby  prevent  the  dangerous  consequence  there  is  in  my  having  unreasonably 
started  it,  will  not,  I  humbly  conceive,  misbecome  your  lordship's  care  of  thai 
article  you  have  endeavoured  to  defend,  nor  the  good  will  you  bear  to  truth  in 
general.  For  1  will  be  answerable  for  myself,  that  I  shall ;  and  I  think  I  may  be 
for  all  other?,  that  tlioy  all  will  give  off  the  placing  of  certainty  ia  the  perception 


D©  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  :  HOOK  HI « 

'J.  Identity,  or  diversity. 

2.  Relation. 

3.  Coexistence,  or  necessary  connexion. 

4.  Real  existence. 

of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  ideas,  if  your  lordship  will  be  pleased  to 
show  that  it  lies  in  any  tiling  else. 

But  truly,  not  to  ascribe  to  myself  an  invention  of  what  has  been  as  old  as  know- 
ledge is  in  the  world,  I  must  own,  I  am  not  guilty  of  what  your  lordship  is  pleased 
to  call  starting  new  methods  of  certainty.  Knowledge,  ever  since  there  has  been 
any  in  the  world,  has  consisted  in  one  particular  action  in  the  mind ;  and  so,  I 
conceive,  will  continue  to  do  <o  the  end  of  it.  And  to  start  new  methods  of 
knowledge,  or  certainty,  (for  they  are  to  me  the  same  thing,)  i.  e.  to  find  out  and 
propose  new  methods  of  attaining  knowledge,  either  with  more  ease  and  quick- 
ness, or  in  things  yet  unknown,  is  what  1  think  nobody  could  blame  :  but  this  is 
not  that  which  your  lordship  here  means,  by  new  methods  of  certainty.  Your 
lordship,  I  think,  means  by  it,  the  placing  of  certainty  in  something,  wherein 
either  it  does  not  consist,  or  else  wherein  it  wa,  not  placed  before  now  ;  if  this  be 
to  be  called  a  new  method  of  certainty.  As  tc  the  latter  of  these,  I  shall  know 
whether  I  am  guilty  or  no,  when  your  lordship  x>m  do  me  the  favour  to  tell  me 
wherein  it  was  placed  before  :  which  your  lordship  knows  I  professed  myself 
ignorant  of,  when  I  writ  my  book,  and  so  I  am  still,  but  if  starting  new  methods 
of  certainty  be  the  placing  of  certainty  in  something  whu-ein  it  does  not  consist ; 
whether  I  have  done  that  or  no,  I  must  appeal  to  the  experience  of  mankind. 

There  are  several  actions  of  men's  minds,  that  they  are  conscious  to  themselves 
of  performing,  as  willing,  believing,  knowing,  &tc.  which  they  V»aVe  so  particular 
sense  of,  that  they  can  distinguish  them  one  from  another  ;  or  else  they  could  not 
say,  when  they  willed,  when  they  believed,  and  when  they  knew  any  thing, 
But  though  these  actions  were  different  enough  from  one  another,  not  to  be  con- 
founded by  those  who  spoke  of  them,  yet  nobody,  that  I  had  met  with,  had,  in 
their  writings,  particularly  set  down  wherein  the  act  of  knowing  precisely 
consisted. 

To  this  reflection  upon  the  actions  of  my  own  mind  the  subject  of  my  Essay 
concerning  Human  Understanding  naturally  led  me  ;  wherein  if  I  have  done  any 
thing  new,  it  has  been  to  describe  to  others,  more  particularly  than  had  been  done 
before,  what  it  is  their  minds  do  when  they  perform  that  action  which  they  call 
knowing  ;  and  if,  upon  examination,  they  observe  I  have  given  a  true  account  of 
that  action  of  their  minds  in  all  the  parts  of  it,  I  suppose  it  will  be  in  vain  to  dis- 
pute against  what  they  find  and  feel  in  themselves.  And  if  I  have  not  told  them 
right  and  exactly  what  they  find  and  feel  in  themselves,  when  their  minds  perform 
the  act  of  knowing,  what  I  have  said  will  be  all  in  vain  ;  men  will  not  be  per- 
suaded against  their  senses.  Knowledge  is  an  internal  perception  of  their  minds  ; 
and  if,  when  they  reflect  on  it,  they  find  it  is  not  what  I  have  said  it  is,  my  ground- 
less conceit  will  not  be  hearkened  to,  but  be  exploded  by  every  body,  and  die  of 
itself:  and  nobody  need  to  be  at  any  pains  to  drive  it  out  of  the  world.  So  impos- 
sible is  it  to  find  out,  or  start  new  methods  of  certainty,  or  to  have  them  received, 
if  any  one  places  it  in  any  thing  but  in  that  wherein  it  really  consists  :  much  less 
can  any  one  be  in  danger  to  be  misled  into  error,  by  any  such  new,  and  to  every  one 
visibly  senseless,  project.  Can  it  be  supposed,  that  any  one  could  start  a  new 
method  of  seeing,  and  persuade  men  thereby  that  they  do  not  see  what  they  do 
see  ?  Is  it  to  be  feared,  that  any  one  can  cast  such  a  mist  over  their  eyes,  that  they 
should  not  know  when  they  see,  and  so  be  led  out  of  their  way  by  it  ? 

Knowledge,  I  find  in  myself,  and  I  conceive  in  others,  consists  in  the  perception 
of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  immediate  objects  of  the  mind  in  think- 
in0-,  which  I  call  ideas  :  but  whether  it  does  so  in  others  or  no,  must  be  determined 
by  their  own  experience,  reflecting  upon  the  action  of  their  mind  hi  knowing ;  for 
that  1  cannot  alter,  nor,  I  think,  they  themselves.  But  whether  they  will  call 
those  immediate  objects  of  their  minds  in  thinking  ideas  or  no,  is  perfectly  in  their 
own  choice.  If  they  dislike  that  name,  they  may  call  them  notions  or  concep- 
tions, or  how  they  please  ;  it  matters  not,  if  they  use  them  so  as  to  avoid  obscurity 
and  confusion.  If  they  are  constantly  used  in  the  same  and  a  known  sense, 
every  one  lias  1he  liberty  to  please  himself  in  his  terms :  there  lies  neither  truth. 


.  H.  I.]  <Ji'  KNOWLEDGE. 

&  4.     1.    OF  IDENTITY  Oil  DIVERSli  i 

First,  As  to  the  first  sort  of  agreement  or  disagreement,  viz. 
identity  or  diversity.  It  is  the  first  act  of  the  mind,  when  it  has 
any  sentiments  or  ideas  at  all,  to  perceive  its  ideas ;  and  so  far  as 
it  perceives  them,  to  know  each  what  it  is,  and  thereby  also  to 
perceive  their  difference,  and  that  one  is  not  another.  This  is 
so  absolutely  necessary,  that  without  it  there  could  be  no  know- 

nor  error,  nor  science,  in  that ;  though  those  that  take  them  for  things,  and  not 
for  what  they  are,  bare  arbitrary  signs  of  our  ideas,  make  a  great  deal  ado  often 
about  them  ;  as  if  some  great  matter  lay  in  the  use  of  this  or  that  sound.  All  that 
I  know  or  can  imagine  of  difference  about  them  is,  that  those  words  are  always 
best,  whose  significations  are  best  known  in  the  sense  they  are  used  ;  and  so  are 
least  apt  to  breed  confusion. 

My  lord,  your  lordship  hath  been  pleased  to  find  fault  with  my  use  of  the  new 
1erm,  ideas,  without  telling  me  a  better  name  for  the  immediate  objects  of  the 
mind  in  thinking.  Your  lordship  also  has  been  pleased  to  find  fault  with  my  defi- 
nition of  knowledge,  without  doing  me  the  favour  to  give  me  a  better.  For  it 
is  ouly  about  my  definition  of  knowledge  that  all  this  stir  concerning  certainty  is 
made.  For,  with  me,  tc  know  and  to  be  certain  is  the  same  thing ;  what  I  know, 
that  I  am  certain  of;  and  what  I  am  certain  of,  that  I  know.  What  reaches  to 
knowledge,  I  think  may  be  called  certainty  ;  and  what  comes  short  of  certainty, 
I  think  cannot  be  called  knowledge  ;  as  your  lordship  could  not  but  observe  in  the 
18th  section  of  chap.  4.  of  my  4th  book,  which  you  have  quoted. 

My  definition  of  knowledge  stands  thus ;  "  knowledge  seems  to  me  to  be 
nothing  but  the  perception  of  the  connexion  and  agreement,  or  disagreement  and 
repugnancy  of  any  of  our  ideas."  This  definition  your  lordship  dislikes,  and  ap- 
prehends it  may  be  of  dangerous  consequence  as  to  that  article  of  Christian  faith 
which  your  lordship  hath  endeavoured  to  defend.  For  this  there  is  a  very  easy 
remedy  :  it  is  but  for  your  lordship  to  set  aside  this  definition  of  knowledge  by 
giving  us  a  better,  and  this  danger  is  over.  But  your  lordship  chooses  rather  to 
have  a  controversy  with  my  book  for  having  it  in  it,  and  to  put  me  upon  the 
defence  of  it :  for  which  I  must  acknowledge  myself  obliged  to  your  lordship  for 
affording  me  so  much  of  your  time,  and  for  allowing  me  the  honour  of  conversing 
so  much  with  one  so  far  above  me  in  all  respects. 

Your  lordship  says,  it  may  be  of  dangerous  consequence  to  that  article  of  Chris- 
tian faith  which  you  have  endeavoured  to  defend.  Though  the  laws  of  disputing 
allow  bare  denial  as  a  sufficient  answer  to  sayings,  without  any  offer  of  a  proof; 
yet,  my  lord,  to  show  how  willing  I  am  to  give  your  lordship  all  satisfaction,  in 
what  you  apprehend  may  be  of  dangerous  consequence  in  my  book,  as  to  that 
article,  I  shall  not  stand  still  sullenly,  and  put  your  lordship  upon  the  difficulty 
of  showing  wherein  that  danger  lies  ;  but  shall,  on  tiie  other  side,  endeavour  to 
show  your  lordship  that  that  definition  of  mine,  whether  true  or  false,  right  or 
wrong,  can  be  of  no  dangerous  consequence  to  that  article  of  faith.  The  reason 
which  I  shall  offer  for  it,  is  this :  because  it  can  be  of  no  consequence  to  it  at  all. 

That  which  your  lordship  is  afraid  it  may  be  dangerous  to,  is  an  article  of 
faith:  that  which  your  lordship  labours  and  is  concerned  for,  is  the  certainty  of 
faith.  Now,  my  lord,  I  humbly  conceive  the  certainty  of  faith,  if  your  lordship 
thinks  fit  to  call  it  so,  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  certainty  of  knowledge.  As  to 
talk  of  the  certainty  of  faith,  seems  all  one  to  me,  as  to  talk  of  tin.'  knowledge  oi 
•ig,  a  way  of  speaking  not  easy  to  me  to  understand. 
Mace  knowledge  in  what  you  will;  start  what  new  methods  of  certainty  you 
please,  that  are  apt  to  leave  men's  minds  more  doubtful  than  before  ;  place  cer- 
tainty on  such  ground  as  will  leave  little  or  no  knowledge  in  the  world  :  (lor  these 
are  the  arguments  your  lordship  uses  against  my  definition  of  knowledge)  this 
shakes  not  at  ail,  nor  in  the  least  concerns  the  assurance  of  faith  ;  that  is  quite  dis- 
tinct from  it,  neither  stands  nor  falls  with  knowledge. 

Faith  stands  by  itself,  and  upon  grounds  of  its  own  ;  nor  can  be  removed  from 
them,  and  placed  on  those  of  knowledge.     Their  grounds  are  so  far  from  being 
the  same,  or  having  any  thing  common,  that  when  iL  is  brought  In  certainty,  faith 
troved  ;  if  is  knowledge  then,  and  faith  no  longer. 


58  OF    KNpAVt/EDGE.  [BOOK  I\  . 

iedge,  no  reasoning,  no  imagination,  no  distinct  thoughts  at  all. 
By  this  the  mind  clearly  and  infallibly  perceives  each  idea  to 
agree  with  itself,  and  to  be  what  it  is ;  and  all  distinct  ideas  to 
disagree,  i.  e.  the  one  not  to  be  the  other;  and  this  it  does  with- 
out pains,  labour,  or  deduction  ;  but  at  first  view,  by  its  natural 
power  of  perception  and  distinction.  And  though  men  of  art 
have  reduced  this  into  those  general  rules,  What  is,  is ;  and  it  is 
impossible  for  the-  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be  ;  for  ready 
application  in  all  cases,  wherein  there  may  be  occasion  to  reflect 
on  it ;  yet  it  is  certain,  that  the  first  exercise  of  this  faculty  is 
about  particular  ideas.  A  man  infallibly  knows,  as  soon  as  ever 
he  has  them  in  his  mind,  that  the  ideas  he  calls  white  and  round, 
are  the  very  ideas  they  are,  and  that  they  are  not  other  ideas 
which  he  calls  red  or  square.  Nor  can  any  maxim  or  proposition 
in  the  world  make  him  know  it  clearer  or  surer  than  he  did 
before,  and  without  any  such  general  rule.  This  then  is  the  first 
agreement  or  disagreement,  which  the  mind  perceives  in  its  ideas: 
which  it  always  perceives  at  first  sight :  and  if  there  ever  happen 
any  doubt  about  it,  it  will  always  be  found  to  be  about  the  names, 
and  not  the  ideas  themselves,  whose  identity  and  diversity  will 
always  be  perceived,  as  soon  and  as  clearly  as  the  ideas  them- 
selves are,  nor  can  it  possibly  be  otherwise. 

§  5.     2    .RELATIVE. 

Secondly,  the  next  sort  of  agreement  or  disagreement  the  mind 
perceives  in  any  of  its  ideas,  may,  1  think,  be  called  relative, 
and  is  nothing  but  the  perception  of  the  relation  between  any 
two  ideas,  of  what  kind  soever,  whether  substances,  modes,  or 
any  other.  For  since  all  distinct  ideas  must  eternally  be  known 
not  to  be  the  same,  and  so  be  universally  and  constantly  denied 
one  of  another,  there  could  be  no  room  for  any  positive  know- 

With  what  assurance  soever  of  believing  I  assent  to  any  article  of  faith,  so  that 
1  steadfastly  venture  my  all  upon  it,  it  is  still  but  believing.  Bring  it  to  certainty, 
and  it  ceasesto  be  faith.  I  believe  that  Jesus  Christ  was  crucified,  dead,  audburied. 
rose  again  the  third  day  from  the  dead,  and  ascended  into  heaven :  let  now  such 
methods  of  knowledge  or  certainty  be  started,  as  leave  men's  minds  more  doubtful 
than  before ;  let  the  grounds  of  knowledge  be  resolved  into  what  any  one  pleases, 
it  touches  not  my  faith  ;  the  foundation  of  that  stands  as  sure  as  before,  and  cannot 
be  at  all  shaken  by  it ;  and  one  may  as  well  say,  that  any  tiling  that  weakens  the 
sight,  or  casts  a  mist  before  the  eyes,  endangers  the  hearing,  as  that  any  thing 
which  alters  the  nature  of  knowledge  (if  that  could  be  done)  should  be  of  danger*- 
ous  consequence  to  an  article  of  faith. 

Whether  then  I  am  or  am  not  mistaken  in  the  placing  certainty  in  the  percep- 
tion of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  ideas, — whether  this  account  ol  know- 
ledge be  true  or  false,  enlarges  or  straiten:-  the  bounds  of  it  more  than  it  should, — 
faith  still  stands  upon  its  own  basis,  which  is  not  all  altered  by  it ;  and  every 
article  of  that  has  just  the  same  unmoved  foundation,  and  the  very  same  cre- 
dibility, that  it  had  before.  So  that,  my  lord,whatever  I  have  said  about  certainty, 
and  how  much  soever  I  may  be  out  in  it,  if  I  am  mistaken,  your  lordship  has  no 
reason  to  apprehend  any  danger  to  any  article  of  faith  from  thence  ;  every  one  oi 
them  stands  upon  the  same  bottom  it  did  before,  out  of  the  reach  of  what  belongs 
to  knowledge  and  certainty.  And  thus  much  of  my  way  of  certainty  by  ideas  ; 
which,  I  hope,  will  satisfy  your  lordship  how  far  it  is  from  bein?  dangerous  to  anv 
article  of  the  Christian  faith  whatsoever 


<.H.  l.j  &B  h,\OW  LEJ3GE* 

ledge  at  all,  ii'  we  could  not  perceive  any  i  elation  between 
our  ideas,  and  find  out  the  agreement  or  disagreement  they  have 
one  with  another,  in  several  ways  the  mind  takes  of  comparing 
them. 

§  6.  3.  OF  COEXISTENCE. 

Thirdly,  The  third  sort  of  agreement,  or  disagreement,  to  be 
found  in  our  ideas,  which  the  perception  of  the  mind  is  em- 
ployed about,  is  coexistence,  or  noncoexistence  in  the  same 
subject;  and  this  belongs  particularly  to  substances.  Thus, 
when  we  pronounce  concerning  gold  that  it  is  fixed,  our  know- 
ledge of  this  truth  amounts  to  no  more  but  this,  that  fixedness, 
or  a  power  to  remain  in  the  fire  unconsumed,  is  an  idea  that 
always  accompanies  and  is  joined  with  that  particular  sort  of 
yellowness,  w eight,  fusibility,  malleableness,  and  solubility  in 
aqua  regia,  which  make  our  complex  idea,  signified  by  the  word 
gold. 

§  7.  4.  OF  REAL  EXISTENCE. 

Fourthly,  the  fourth  and  last  sort  is  that  of  actual,  real  exist- 
ence agreeing  to  any  idea.  Within  these  four  sorts  of  agreement  or 
disagreement  is,  I  suppose,  contained  all  the  knowledge  we  have, 
or  are  capable  of:  for  all  the  inquiries  that  we  can  make  concern- 
ing any  of  our  ideas,  all  that  we  know  or  can  affirm  concerning 
any  of  them,  is,-  That  it  is,  or  is  not,  the  same  with  some  other  ; 
that  it  does,  or  does  not,  always  coexist  with  some  other  idea  in 
the  same  subject,  that  it  has  this  or'  that  relation  to  some  other 
idea ;  or  that  it  has  a  real  existence  without  the  mind.  Thus 
blue  is  not  yellow,  is  of  identity  :  two  triangles  upon  equal  bases 
between  two  parallels  are  equal,-  is  of  relation  :  iron  is  suscepti- 
ble of  magne^tical  impressions,  is  of  coexistence  :  God  is,  is  of 
real  existence.  Though  identity  and  coexistence  are  truly 
nothing  but  relations,  yet  they  are  so  peculiar  ways  of  agreement 
or  disagreement  of  our  ideas,  that  they  deserve  well  to  be  consi- 
dered as  distinct  heads,  and  not  under  relation  in  general ;  since 
they  are  so  different  grounds  of  affirmation  and  negation,  as  will 
easily  appear  to  any  one,  who  will  but  reflection  what  is  said  in 
several  places  of  this  essay.  I  should  now  proceed  to  examine 
the  several  degrees  of  our  knowledge,  but  that  it  is  necessary 
first  to  consider  the  different  acceptations  of  the  word  knowledge. 

§  8.    KNOWLEDGE  ACTUAL  OR    HABITUAL. 

There  are  several  ways  wherein  the  mind  is  possessed  of  truth, 
each  of  which  is  called  knowledge. 

1.  There  is  actual  knowledge,  which  is  the  present  view  the 
mind  has  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  of  its  ideas, 
or  of  the  relation  they  have  one  to  another. 

2.  A  man  is  said  to  know  any  proposition,  which  having  been 
once  laid- before  his  thoughts,  he  evidently  perceived  the  agree- 


bO  OF    KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  III. 

ment  or  disagreement  of  the  ideas  whereof  it  consists  ;  and  so 
lodged  it  in  his  memory,  that  whenever  that  proposition  comes 
again  to  be  reflected  on,  he,  without  doubt  or  hesitation,  embraces 
the  right  side,  assents  to,  and  is  certain  of  the  truth  of  it.  This, 
I  think,  one  may  call  habitual  knowledge  :  and  thus  a  man  may 
be  said  to  know  all  those  truths  which  are  lodged  in  his  memory, 
by  a  foregoing  clear  and  full  perception,  whereof  the  mind  is 
assured  past  doubt,  as  often  as  it  has  occasion  to  reflect  on  them. 
For  our  finite  understandings  being  able  to  think  clearly  and 
distinctly  but  on  one  thing  at  once,  if  men  had  no  knowledge  of 
any  more  than  what  they  actually  thought  on,  they  would  all  be 
very  ignorant;  and  he  that  knew  most  would  know  but  one 
truth,  that  being  all  he  was  able  to  think  on  at  one  time. 

§  9.    HABITUAL  KNOWLEDGE  TWOFOLD. 

Of  habitual  knowledge,  there  are  also,  vulgarly  speaking,  two 
degrees : 

First,  the  one  is  of  such  truths  laid  up  in  the  memory,  as,  when- 
ever they  occur  to  the  mind,  it  actually  perceives  the  relation  is 
between  those  ideas.  And  this  is  in  all  those  truths  whereof  we 
have  an  intuitive  knowledge  ;  where  the  ideas  themselves,  by  an 
immediate  view,  discover  their  agreement  or  disagreement  one 
with  another. 

Secondly,  the  other  is  of  such  truths,  whereof  the  mind  having 
been  convinced,  it  retains  the  memory  of  the  conviction,  without 
the  proofs.  Thus  a  man  that  remembers  certainly  that  he  once 
perceived  the  demonstration,  that  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle 
are  equal  to  two  right  ones,  is  certain  that  he  knows  it,  because 
he  cannot  doubt  the  truth  of  it.  In  his  adherence  to  a  truth, 
where  the  demonstration  by  which  it  was  at  first  known  is  forgot, 
though  a  man  may  be  thought  rather  to  believe  his  memory  than 
really  to  know,  and  this  way  of  entertaining  a  truth  seemed  for- 
merly to  me  like  something  between  opinion  and  knowledge ;  a 
sort  of  assurance  which  exceeds  bare  belief,  for  that  relies  on  the 
testimony  of  another  :  yet  upon  a  due  examination  I  find  it  comes 
not  short  of  perfect  certainty,  and  is  in  effect  true  knowledge. 
That  which  is  apt  to  mislead  our  first  thoughts  into  a  mistake  in 
this  matter  is,  that  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  ideas  in 
this  case  is  not  perceived,  as  it  was  at  first,  by  an  actual  view  of 
all  the  intermediate  ideas,  whereby  the  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment of  those  in  the  proposition  was  at  first  perceived  ;  but  by 
other  intermediate  ideas,  that  show  the  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment of  the  ideas  contained  in  the  proposition  whose  certainty  we 
remember.  For  example,  in  this  proposition,  that  the  three 
angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal  to  two  right  ones,  one  who  has  seen 
and  clearly  perceived  the  demonstration  of  this  truth  knows  it  to 
be  true,  when  that  demonstration  is  gone  out  of  his  mind  ;  so 
that  at  present  it  is  not  actually  in  view,  and  possibly  cannot  be 
recollected  :  fttffc  be  knows  it  jn  a  different  way  from  what  he  did 


v,H.  I.J  KNOWLEDGE.  61 

before.     The  agreement  of  the  two  ideas  joined  in  that  proposi- 
tion is  perceived,  bat  it  is  by  the  intervention  of  other  ideas  than 
those  which  at  first  produced  that  perception.     He  remembers, 
L  e.  he  knows  (for  remembrance  is  but  the  reviving  of  some  past 
knowledge)  that  he  was  once  certain  of  the  truth  of  this  proposi- 
tion, that  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  equal  to  two  right  ones. 
The  immutability  of  the  same  relations  between  the  same  immu- 
table things,  is  now  the  idea  that  shows  him  that  if  the  three  angles 
of  a  triangle  were  once  equal  to  two  right  ones,  they  will  always 
be  equal  to  two  right  ones.     And  hence  he  comes  to  be  certain, 
that  what  was  once  true  in  the  case,  is  always  true:  what  ideas 
once  agreed,  will  always  agree ;  and  consequently  what  he  once 
knew  to  be  true,  he  will  always  know  to  be  true,  as  long  as  he  can 
remember  that  he  once  knew  it.     Upon  this  ground  it  is,  that 
particular  demonstrations  in  mathematics  afford  general  know- 
ledge.    If  then  the  perception  that  the  same  ideas  will  eternally 
have  the  same  habitudes  and  relations,  be  not  a  sufficient  ground 
of  knowledge,  there  could  be  no  knowledge  of  general  proposi- 
tions in  mathematics ;  for  no  mathematical  demonstration  would 
be  any  other  than  particular:  and  when  a  man  had  demonstrated 
any  proposition  concerning  one  triangle  or  circle,  his  knowledge 
would  not  reach  beyond  that  particular  diagram.     If  he  would 
extend  it  further,  he  must  renew  his  demonstration  in  another 
instance,  before  he  could  know  it  to  be  true  in  another  like  tri- 
angle, and  so  on:  by  which  means  one  could  never  come  to  the 
knowledge  of  any  general  propositions.     Nobody,  I  think,  can 
deny  that  Mr.  Newton  certainly  knows  any  proposition,  that  he 
now  at  any  time  reads  in  his  book,  to  be  true  ;  though  he  has  not 
in  actual  view  that  admirable  chain  of  intermediate  ideas,  whereby 
he  at  first  discovered  it  to  be  true.     Such  a  memory  as  that,  able 
to  retain  such  a  train  of  particulars,  may  be  well  thought  beyond 
the  reach  of  human  faculties  ;  when  the  very  discovery,  percep- 
tion, and  laying  together  that  wonderful  connexion  of  ideas,  is 
found  to  surpass  most  readers'  comprehension.    But  yet  it  is  evi- 
dent, the  author  himself  knows  the  proposition  to  be  true,  remem- 
bering he  once  saw  the  connexion  of  those  ideas,  as  certainly  as 
he  knows  such  a  man  wounded  another,  remembering  that  he  saw 
him  run  him  through.     But  because  the  memory  is  not  always 
so  clear  as  actual  perception,  and  does  in  all  men  more  or  lees 
decay  in  length  of  time,  this  among  other  differences  is  one, 
which  shows  that  demonstrative  knowledge  is  much  more  imper* 
feet  than  intuitive,  as  we  shall  see  in  the  following  chapter. 


Vol.  II. 


ti'lJ  DEGREES  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV. 

CHAPTER  II. 

OF  THE  DEGREES  OF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE. 

§    1.    INTUITIVE. 

All  our  knowledge  consisting,  as  I  have  said,  in  the  view  the 
mind  has  of  its  own  ideas,  which  is  the  utmost  light  and  greatest 
certainty  we,  with  our  faculties,  and  in  our  way  of  knowledge,  are 
capahle  of ;  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  consider  a  little  the  degrees 
of  its  evidence.    The  different  clearness  of  our  knowledge  seems 
to  me  to  lie  in  the  different  way  of  perception  the  mind  has   of 
the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  of  its  ideas.  For  if  we  will 
reflect  on  our  OAvn  ways  of  thinking,  we  shall  find  that  sometimes 
the  mind  perceives  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  two  ideas 
immediately  by  themselves,  without  the  intervention  of  any  other: 
and  this,  1  think,  we  may  call  intuitive  knowledge.     For  in  this 
the  mind  is  at  no  pains  of  proving  or  examining,  but  perceives 
the  truth,  as  the  eye  doth  light,  only  by  being  directed  toward  it. 
Thus  the  mind  perceives,  that  white  is  not  black,  that  a  circle  is 
not  a  triangle,  that  three  are  more  than  two,  and  equal  to  one 
and  two.     Such  kind  of  truths  the  mind  perceives  at  the  first 
sight  of  the  ideas  together,  by  bare  intuition,  without  the  inter- 
vention of  any  other  idea  ;  and  this  kind  of  knowledge  is  the 
clearest  and  most  certain  that  human  frailty  is  capable  of.     This 
part  of  knoAvledge  is  irresistible,  and  like  bright  sunskine  forces 
itself  immediately  to  be  perceived,  as  soon  as  ever  the  mind  turns 
its  view  that  way  ;  and  leaves  no  room  for  hesitation,  doubt,  or 
examination,  but  the  mind  is  presently  filled  with  the  clear  light 
of  it.     It  is  on  this  intuition  that  depends  all  the  certainty  and 
evidence  of  all  our  knowledge ;  which  certainty  every  one  finds  to 
be  so  great,  that  he  cannot  imagine,  and  therefore  not  require  a 
greater  :  for  a  man  cannot  conceive  himself  capable  of  a  greater 
certainty,  than  to  know  that  any  idea  in  his  mind  is  such  as  he 
perceives  it  to  be  ;  and  that  two  ideas,  wherein  he  perceives  a 
dilierence,  are  different,  and  not  precisely  the  same.     He  that 
demands  a  greater  certainty  than  this,  demands  he  knows  not 
what,  and  shows  only  that  he  has  a  mind  to  be  a  sceptic,  without 
being  able  to  be  so.     Certainty  depends  so  wholly  on  this  intui- 
tion, that  in  the  next  degree  of  knowledge,  which  I  call  demon- 
strative, this  intuition  is  necessary  in  all  the  connexions  of  the  in- 
termediate ideas,  without  which  we  cannot  attain  knowledge  and 
certainty. 

§  2.    DEMONSTRATIVE. 

The  next  degree  of  knowledge  is,  where  the  mind  perceives  the 
agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  ideas,  but  not  immediately. 
Though  wherever  the  mind  perceives  the  agreement  or  disagree 


•  If.  II. j  DEGREES  OF  KNOWLEDGE,  63 

inent  of  any  of  its  ideas,  there  be  certain  knowledge ;  yet  it  does 
not  always  happen  that  the  mind  sees  that  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment which  there  is  between  them,  even  where  it  is  discoverable: 
and  in  that  case  remains  in  ignorance,  and  at  most  gets  no  farther 
than  a  probable  conjecture.  The  reason  why  the  mind  cannot 
always  perceive  presently  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  two 
ideas  is,  because  those  ideas,  concerning  whose  agreement  or 
disagreement  the  inquiry  is  made,  cannot  by  the  mind  be  so  put 
together  as  to  show  it.  In  this  case  then,  when  the  mind  cannot 
so  bring  its  ideas  together,  as  by  their  immediate  comparison,  and 
as  it  were  juxtaposition  or  application  one  to  another,  to  per- 
ceive their  agreement  or  disagreement,  it  is  fain,  by  the  interven- 
tion of  other  ideas  (one  or  more,  as  it  happens)  to  discover  the 
agreement  or  disagreement  which  it  searches;  and  this  is  that 
which  we  call  reasoning.  Thus  the  mind  being  willing  to  know 
the  agreement  or  disagreement  in  bigness,  between  the  three 
angles  of  a  triangle  and  two  right  ones,  cannot  by  an  immediate 
view  and  comparing  them  do  it :  because  the  three  angles  of  a 
triangle  cannot  be  brought  at  once,  and  be  compared  with  any 
one  or  two  angles  ;  and  so  of  this  the  mind  has  no  immediate,  no 
intuitive  knowledge.  In  this  case  the  mind  is  fain  to  find  out  some 
other  angles,  to  which  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  have  an 
equality  ;  and,  finding  those  equal  to  two  right  ones,  comes  to 
know  their  equality  to  two  right  ones. 

§  3.  DEPENDS  ON  TROOFS. 

Those  intervening  ideas  which  serve  to  show  the  agreement  of 
any  two  others,  are  called  proofs  ;  and  where  the  agreement  and 
disagreement  is  by  this  means  plainly  and  clearly  perceived,  it  is 
called  demonstration,  it  being  shown  to  the  understanding,  and  the 
mind  made  to  see  that  it  is  so.  A  quickness  in  the  mind  to  find 
out  these  intermediate  ideas  (that  shall  discover  the  agreement  or 
disagreement  of  any  other)  and  to  apply  them  right,  is,  I  suppose, 
that  which  is  called  sagacity. 

§  4.    BUT  NOT  SO  EASY. 

This  knowledge  by  intervening  proofs,  though  it  be  certain,yet 
the  evidence  of  it  is  not  altogether  so  clear  and  bright,  nor  the 
assent  so  ready,  as  in  intuitive  knowledge.  For  though,  in 
demonstration,  the  mind  does  at  last  perceive  the  agreement  or 
disagreement  of  the  ideas  it  considers;  yet  it  is  not  Without  pains 
and  attention :  there  must  be  more  than  one  transient  view  to 
find  it.  A  steady  application  and  pursuit  are  required  to  this  dis- 
covery :  and  there  must  be  a  progression  by  steps  and  degrees, 
before  the  mind  can  in  this  way  arrive  at  certainty,  and  come  to 
perceive  the  agreement  or  repugnancy  between  two  ideas  that 
need  proofs  and  the  use  of  reason  to  show  i^ 


b'<l  DEGREES  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV- 

§  5.    NOT  WITHOUT  PRECEDENT  DOUBT. 

Another  difference  between  intuitive  and  demonstrative  know- 
ledge is,  that  though  in  the  latter  all  doubt  be  removed,  when  by 
the  intervention  of  the  intermediate  ideas  the  agreement  or  disa- 
greement is  perceived  ;  yet  before  the  demonstration  there  was 
a  doubt,  which  in  intuitive  knowledge  cannot  happen  to  the 
mind,  that  has  its  faculty  of  perception  left  to  a  degree  capable  of 
distinct  ideas,  no  more  than  it  can  be  a  doubt  to  the  eye  (that  can 
distinctly  see  white  and  black)  whether  this  ink  and  this  paper  be 
all  of  a  colour.  If  there  be  sight  in  the  eyes,  it  will  at  first 
glimpse,  without  hesitation,  perceive  the  words  printed  on  this 
paper  different  from  the  colour  of  the  paper:  and  so  if  the  mind 
have  the  faculty  of  distinct  perceptions,  it  will  perceive  the 
agreement  or  disagreement  of  those  ideas  that  produce  intuitive 
knowledge.  If  the  eyes  have  lost  the  faculty  of  seeing,  or  the 
mind  of  perceiving,  we  in  vain  inquire  after  the  quickness  of  sight 
in  one,  or  clearness  of  perception  in  the  other. 

§  6.    NOT  SO  CLEAR. 

It  is  true,  the  perception  produced  by  demonstration  is  also 
very  clear,  yet  it  is  often  with  a  great  abatement  of  that  evident 
lustre  and  full  assuranee  that  always  accompany  that  which  I  call 
intuitive ;  like  a  face  reflected  by  several  mirrors  one  to  another, 
where  as  long  as  it  retains  the  similitude  and  agreement  with  the 
object,  it  produces  a  knowledge  5  but  it  is  still  in  every  successive 
reflection  with  a  lessening  of  that  perfect  clearness  and  distinct- 
ness which  is  in  the  first,  till  at  last,  after  many  removes,  it  has  a 
great  mixture  of  dimness,  and  is  not  at  first  sight  so  knowable, 
especially  to  weak  eyes.  Thus  it  is  with  knowledge  made  out 
by  a  long  train  of  proof. 

§  7.    EACH  STEP  MUST  HAVE  INTUITIVE  EVIDENCE. 

Now  in  every  step  reason  makes  in  demonstrative  knowledge, 
there  is  an  intuitive  knowledge  of  that  agreement  or  disagreement 
it  seeks  with  the  next  intermediate  idea,  which  it  uses  as  a  proof: 
for  if  it  were  not  so,  that  yet  would  need  a  proof;  since  without 
the  perception  of  such  agreement  or  disagreement,  there  is  no 
knowledge  produced.  If  it  be  perceived  by  itself,  it  is  intui- 
tive knowledge :  if  it  cannot  be  perceived  by  itself,  there  is  need 
of  some  intervening  idea,  as  a  common  measure  to  show  their 
agreement  or  disagreement.  By  which  it  is  plain,  that  every 
step  in  reasoning  that  produces  knowledge  has  intuitive  certainty; 
which  when  the  mind  perceives,  there  is  no  more  required,  but 
to  remember  it  to  make  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the 
ideas,  concerning  which  we  inquire,  visible  and  certain.  So  that 
to  make  any  thing  a  demonstration,  it  is  necessary  to  perceive 
the  immediate  agreement  of  the  intervening  ideas,  whereby  the 
agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  two  ideas  under  examination 
(whereof  the  one  is  always  the  first,  and  the  other  the  last  in  the 
account)  is  found.     This  intuitive  perception  of  the  agreement 


(II.  II.]  DEGREES  OP  KNOWLEDGE. 

or  disagreement  of  the  intermediate  ideas,  in  each  step  and 
progression  of  the  demonstration,  must  also  be  carried  ex- 
actly in  the  mind,  and  a  man  must  be  sure  that  no  part  is  left  out ; 
which  because  in  long  deductions,  and  the  use  of  many  proofs, 
the  memory  does  not  always  so  readily  and  exactly  retain ; 
therefore  it  comes  to  pass,  that  this  is  more  imperfect  than  intuitive 
knowledge,  and  men  embrace  often  falsehood  for  demonstrations. 

§  8.    HENCE  THE  MISTAKE  "  EX  PRiECOGNITIS  ET  PR.ECONCESSIS." 

The  necessity  of  this  intuitive  knowledge,  in  each  step  of  sci- 
entifical  or  demonstrative  reasoning,  gave  occasion,  I  imagine,  to 
that  mistaken  axiom,  that  all  reasoning  was  "  ex  praecognitis  et 
praaconcessis j"  which  how  far  it  is  mistaken,  1  shall  have  occa* 
sion  to  show  more  at  large,  when  I  come  to  consider  propositions, 
and  particularly  those  propositions  which  are  called  maxims  ; 
and  to  show  that  it  is  by  a  mistake  that  they  are  supposed  to  be 
the  foundations  of  all  our  knowledge  and  reasonings. 

§  9.  DEMONSTRATION  NOT  LIMITED  TO  QUANTITY. 

It  has  been  generally  taken  for  granted,  that  mathematics 
alone  are  capable  of  demonstrative  certainty  :  but  to  have  such 
an  agreement  or  disagreement,  as  may  intuitively  be  perceived, 
being,  as  I  imagine,  not  the  privilege  of  the  ideas  of  number,  ex- 
tension, and  figure  alone,  it  may  possibly  be  the  want  of  due 
method  and  application  in  us,  and  not  of  sufficient  evidence  in 
things,  that  demonstration  has  been  thought  to  have  so  little  to 
do  in  other  parts  of  knowledge,  and  been  scarce  so  much  as 
aimed  at  by  any  but  mathematicians.  For  whatever  ideas  we 
have,  wherein  the  mind  can  perceive  the  immediate  agreement 
or  disagreement  that  is  between  them,  there  the  mind  is  capable 
of  intuitive  knowledge  ;  and  where  it  can  perceive  the  agreement 
or  disagreement  of  any  two  ideas,  by  an  intuitive  perception  of 
the  agreement  or  disagreement  they  have  with  any  intermediate 
ideas,  there  the  mind  is  capable  of  demonstration,  which  is  not 
limited  to  ideas  of  extension,  figure,  number,  and  their  modes. 

§  10.    WHY  IT  HAS  BEEN  SO  THOUGHT. 

The  reason  why  it  has  been  generally  sought  for,  and  supposed 
to  be  only  in  those,  I  imagine  has  been  not  only  the  general  useful- 
ness of  those  sciences ;  but  because,  in  comparing  their  equality  or 
excess,  the  modes  of  numbers  have  every  the  least  dirlerencc 
very  clear  and  perceivable  :  and  though  in  extension  every  the 
least  excess  it  not  so  perceptible,  yet  the  mind  has  found  out 
ways  to  examine  and  discover  demonstratively  the  just  equality 
of  two  angles,  or  extensions,  or  figures :  and  both  these,  i.  c. 
numbers  and  figures,  can  be  set  down  by  \  ir-iblc  and  lasting  marks, 
wherein  the  ideas  under  consideration  are  perfectly  determined  ; 
which  for  the  most  part  they  are  not.  where  they  are  marked 
only  by  names  and  words. 


66  DEGREES    OP    KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV. 

§    11. 

But  in  other  simple  ideas,  whose  modes  and  differences  are 
made  and  counted  by  degrees,  and  not  quantity,  we  have  not  so 
nice  and  accurate  a  distinction  of  their  differences,  as  to  per- 
ceive and  find  ways  to  measure  their  just  equality,  or  the  least 
differences.  For  those  other  simple  ideas,  being  appearances 
of  sensations,  produced  in  us  by  the  size,  figure,  number,  and 
motion  of  minute  corpuscles  singly  insensible;  their  different 
degrees  also  depend  upon  the  variation  of  some  or  of  all  those 
causes  :  which  since  it  cannot  be  observed  by  us  in  particles  of 
matter,  whereof  each  is  too  subtile  to  be  perceived,  it  is  impos- 
sible for  us  to  have  any  exact  measures  of  the  different  degrees 
of  these  simple  ideas.  For  supposing  the  sensation  or  idea  we 
name  whiteness  be  produced  in  us  by  a  certain  number  of  glo- 
bules, which,  having  a  verticity  about  their  own  centres,  strike 
upon  the  retina  of  the  eye  with  a  certain  degree  of  rotation,  as 
well  as  progressive  swiftness  ;  it  will  hence  easily  follow,  that  the 
more  the  superficial  parts  of  any  body  are  so  ordered,  as  to  reflect 
thegreater  number  of  globules  of  light,  and  to  give  them  the  proper 
rotation,  which  is  fit  to  produce  this  sensation  of  white  in  us,  the 
more  white  will  that  body  appear,  that  irom  an  equal  space  sends 
to  the  retina  the  greater  number  of  such  corpuscles,  with  that 
peculiar  sort  of  motion.  I  do  not  say,  that  the  nature  of  light 
consists  in  very  small  round  globules,  nor  of  whiteness  in  such  a 
texture  of  parts  as  gives  a  certain  rotation  to  these  globules, 
when  it  reflects  them  ;  for  1  am  not  now  treating  physically  of 
light  'or  colours  :  but  this,  I  think,  I  may  say,  that  1  caunot  (and  I 
would  be  glad  any  one  would  make  intelligible  that  he  did)  con- 
ceive how  bodies  without  us  can  any  ways  affect  our  senses,  but 
by  the  immediate  contact  of  the  sensible  bodies  themselves, 
as  in  tasting  and  feeling,  or  the  impulse  of  some  insensible 
particles  coming  from  them,  as  in  seeing,  hearing,  and  smelling; 
by  the  different  impulse  of  which  parts,  caused  by  their  different 
size,  figure,  and  motion,  the  variety  of  sensations  is  produced 
in  ns. 

§  12- 
Whether  then  they  be  globules,  or  no, — or  whether  they  have 
a  verticity  about  their  own  centres  that  produces  the  idea  of 
whiteness  in  us, — this  is  certain,  that  the  more  particles  of  light 
are  reflected  from  a  body,  fitted  to  give  them  that  peculiar  motion, 
which  produces  the  sensation  of  whiteness  in  us, — and  possibly 
too,  the  quicker  that  peculiar  motion  is, — the  whiter  does  the 
body  appear  from  which  the  greater  number  are  reflected,  as  is 
evident  in  the  same  piece  of  paper  put  in  the  sunbeams,  in  the 
shade,  a. id  i:;  a  dark  hole  ;  in  each  of  which  it  will  produce  in 
us  <be  idea  of  whiteness  in  far  different  degrees. 


CH.  1I.J  DEGREES    OF    KNOWLEDGE.  67 

§13. 

Not  knowing  therefore  what  number  of  particles,  nor  what 
motion  of  them  is  fit  to  produce  any  precise  degree  of  whiteness, 
we  cannot  demonstrate  the  certain  equality  of  any  two  degrees 
of  whiteness,  because  we  have  no  certain  standard  to  measure 
them  by,  nor  means  to  distinguish  every  the  least  real  difference, 
the  only  help  we  have  being  from  our  senses,  which  in  this  point 
fail  us.  But  where  the  difference  is  so  great  as  to  produce  in  the 
mind  clearly  distinct  ideas,  whose  differences  can  be  perfectly 
retained,  there  these  ideas  or  colours,  as  we  see  in  different  kinds, 
as  blue  and  red,  are  as  capable  of  demonstration  as  ideas  of 
number  and  extension.  What  I  have  here  said  of  whiteness  and 
colours,  1  think,  holds  true  in  all  secondary  qualities,  and  theiv 
modes. 

§   14.    SENSITIVE  KNOWLEDGE  OF  PARTICULAR  EXISTENCE. 

These  two,  viz.  intuition  and  demonstration,  are  the  degrees 
of  our  knowledge  ;  whatever  comes  short  of  one  of  these,  with 
what  assurance  soever  embraced,  is  but  faith,  or  opinion,  but  not 
knowledge,  at  least  in  all  general  truths.  There  is,  indeed, 
another  perception  of  the  mind,  employed  about  the  particular 
existence  of  finite  beings  without  us  ;  which  going  beyond  bare 
probability,  and  yet  not  reaching  perfectly  to  either  of  the  fore- 
going degrees  of  certainty,  passes  under  the  name  of  knowledge. 
There  can  be  nothing  more  certain  than  that  the  idea  we  receive 
from  an  external  object  is  in  our  minds  ;  this  is  intuitive  know- 
ledge. But  whether  there  be  any  thing  more  than  barely  that 
idea  in  our  minds,  whether  we  can  thence  certainly  infer  the 
existence  of  any  thing  without  us,  which  corresponds  to  that  idea, 
is  that  whereof  some  men  think  there  may  be  a  question  made  ; 
because  men  may  have  such  ideas  in  their  minds,  when  no  such 
thing  exists,  no  such  object  affects  their  senses.  But  yet  here,  I 
think,  we  are  provided  with  an  evidence,  that  puts  us  past  doubt- 
ing :  for  I  ask  any  one,  whether  he  be  not  invincibly  conscious 
to  himself  of  a  different  perception,  when  he  looks  on  the  sun 
by  day,  and  thinks  on  it  by  night  -%  when  he  actually  tastes  worm- 
wood, or  smells  a  rose,  or  only  thinks  on  that  savour  or  odour  ? 
We  as  plainly  find  the  difference  there  is  between  an  idea  revived 
in  our  minds  by  our  own  memory,  and  actually  coming  into 
our  minds  by  our  senses,  as  we  do  between  any  two  distinct 
ideas.  If  any  one  say,  a  dream  may  do  the  same  thing,  and  all 
these  ideas  may  be  produced  in  us  without  any  external  objects  : 
he  may  please  to  dream  that  1  make  him  this  answer  ;  1 .  That  it 
is  no  great  matter,  whether  1  remove  this  scruple  or  no  :  where 
all  is  but  dream,  reasoning  and  arguments  are  of  no  use,  truth 
and  knowledge  nothing.  2.  That  I  believe  he  will  allow  a  very 
manifest  difference  between  dreaming  of  being  in  the  fire,  and 
being  actually  in  it.  But  yet  if  he  be  resolved  to  appear  so 
sceptical  as  to  maintain,  that  what  I  call  beins  actually  in  the 


68  DEGREES    OF    KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV. 

fire  is  nothing  but  a  dream,  and  we  cannot  thereby  certainly 
know  that  any  such  thing  as  fire  actually  exists  without  us ;  I 
answer,  that  we  certainly  finding  that  pleasure  or  pain  follows 
upon  the  application  of  certain  objects  to  us,  whose  existence 
we  perceive,  or  dream  that  we  perceive,  by  our  senses ;  this 
certainty  is  as  great  as  our  happiness  or  misery,  beyond  which 
we  have  no  concernment  to  know,  or  to  be.  So  that,  I  think,  we 
may  add  to  the  two  former  sorts  of  knowledge  this  also  of  the 
existence  of  particular  external  objects,  by  that  perception  and 
consciousness  we  have  of  the  actual  entrance  of  ideas  from  them, 
and  allow  these  three  degrees  of  know-edge,  viz.  intuitive, 
demonstrative,  and  sensitive :  in  each  of  which  there  are  different 
degrees  and  ways  of  evidence  and  certainty. 

§   15.     KNOWLEDGE  NOT    ALWAYS  CLEAR,  WHERE  THE  IDEAS  ARE  SO. 

But  since  our  knowledge  is  founded  on,  and  employed  about, 
our  ideas  only,  will  it  not  follow  from  thence,  that  it  is  conform- 
able to  our  ideas  ;  and  that  where  our  ideas  are  clear  and  dis- 
tinct, or  obscure  and  confused,  our  knowledge  will  be  so  too  ? 
To  which  I  answer,  no  :  for  our  knowledge  consisting  in  the  per- 
ception of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  two  ideas,  its 
clearness  or  obscurity  consists  in  the  clearness  or  obscurity  of 
that  perception,  and  not  in  the  clearness  or  obscurity  of  the  ideas 
themselves ;  v.  g.  a  man  that  has  as  clear  ideas  of  the  angles  of 
a  triangle,  and  of  equality  to  two  right  ones,  as  any  mathemati- 
cian in  the  world,  may  yet  have  but  a  very  obscure  perception  of 
their  agreement,  and  so  have  but  a  very  obscure  knowledge  of  it. 
But  ideas,  which  by  reason  of  their  obscurity  or  otherwise  are 
confused,  cannot  produce  any  clear  or  distinct  knowledge  ;  be- 
cause as  far  as  any  ideas  are  confused,  so  far  the  mind  cannot 
perceive  clearly,  whether  they  agree  or  disagree.  Or  to  express 
the  same  thing  in  a  way  less  apt  to  be  misunderstood  ;  he  that 
hath  not  determined  ideas  to  the  words  he  uses,  cannot  make 
propositions  of  them,  of  whose  truth  he  can  be  certain. 


69 


CHAPTER  111 
01   THE  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE. 

§  * 

Knowledge,  as  has  been  said,  lying  in  the  perception  of  the 
;igreement  or  disagreement  of  any  of  our  ideas,  it  follows  from 
hence,  that, 

1.    NO  FARTHER  THAN  WE  HAVE  IDEAS. 

First,  we  can  have  knowledge  no  farther  than  we  have  idea*. 

§  2.  2.  NO  FARTHER  THAN'  VPE  CAN  PERCEIVE  THEIR  AGREEMENT  OR  DIS- 
AGREEMENT. 

Secondly,  that  we  can  have  no  knowledge  farther  than  we  can 
have  perception  of,  their  agreement  or  disagreement.  Which 
perception  being,  1 .  Either  by  intuition,  or  the  immediate  com- 
paring any  two  ideas  ;  or,  2.  By  reason,  examining  the  agree- 
ment or  disagreement  of  two  ideas,  by  the  intervention  of  some 
others;  or,  5.  By  sensation,  perceiving  the  existence  of  particu- 
lar things  :  hence  it  also  follows, 

£  3.  3,  INTUITIVE  KNOWLEDGE  EXTENDS  ITSELF  NOT  TO  ALL  THE  RELA- 
TIONS  OF   ALL   OUR  IDEAS. 

Thirdly,  that  we  cannot  have  an  intuitive  knowledge  that  shall 
extend  itself  to  all  our  ideas,  and  all  that  we  would  know  about 
them;  because  we  cannot  examine  and  perceive  all  the  relations 
they  have  one  to  another,  by  juxtaposition,  or  an  immediate 
comparison  one  with  another.  Thus  having  the  ideas  of  an 
obtuse  and  an  acute  angled  triangle,  both  drawn  from  equal  bases, 
and  between  parallels,  I  can,  by  intuitive  knowledge,  perceive 
the  one  not  to  be  the  other,  but  cannot  that  way  know  whether 
they  be  equal  or  no  :  because  their  agreement  or  disagreement 
inequality  can  never  be  perceived  by  an  immediate  comparing 
them  :  the  difference  of  figure  makes  their  parts  incapable  of  an 
exact  immediate  application  ;  and  therefore  there  is  need  of  some 
intervening  qualities  to  measure  them  by,  which  is  demonstration, 
or  rational  knowledge. 

§4.  4.  NOR  DEMONSTRATIVE  KNOWLEDGE. 

Fourthly,  it  follows  alsQ,  from  what  is  above  observed,  that  our- 
rational  knowledge  canobf  reach  (o  the  whole  extent  of  our 
ideas  ;  because  between  two  different  ideas  we  would  examine, 
we  cannot  always  find  such  mediums,  as  we  can  connect  one  to 
another  with  an  intuit tve  knowledge,  in  all  the  parts  of  the 
deduction  ;  and  wherever  that  fails,  we  come  short  of  knowledge 
and  demonstration. 

Vol,  II.  10 


70  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  [k06K.  IV. 

5  5.    5.     SENSITIVE  KNOWLEDGE  NARROWER  THAN  EITHER.    . 

Fifthly,  sensitive  knowledge  reaching  no  farther  than  the  exist- 
ence of  things  actually  present  to  our  senses,  is  yet  much  nar- 
rower than  either  of  the  former. 

$  6.    6.     OUR  KNOWLEDGE  THEREFORE  NARROWER  THAN  OUR  IDEAS. 

From  all  which  it  is  evident,  that  the  extent  of  our  knowledge 
comes  not  only  short  of  the  reality  of  things,  but  even  of  the 
extent  of  our  own  ideas.     Though  our  knowledge  be  limited  to 
our  ideas,  and  cannot  exceed  them  either  in  extent  or  perfection  ; 
and  though  these  be  very  narrow  bounds,  in  respect  of  the  extent 
of  all  being,  and  far  short  of  what  we  may  justly  imagine  to  be 
in  some  even  created  understandings,  not  tied  down  to  the  dull 
and  narrow  information  which  is  to  be  received  from  some  few, 
and  not  very  acute  ways  of  perception,  such  as  are  our  senses ; 
vet  it  would  be  well  with  us  if  our  knowledge  were  but  as  large 
as  our  ideas,  and  there  were  not  many  doubts  and  inquiries  con- 
cerning the  ideas  we  have,  whereof  we  are  not,  nor  I  believe  ever 
shall  be,  in  this  world,  resolved.     Nevertheless,  I  do  not  question 
but  that  human  knowledge,  under  the  present  circumstances  of 
our  beings  and  constitutions,  may  be  carried  much  farther  than  it 
hitherto  has  been,  if  men  would  sincerely,  and  with  freedom  of 
mind,  employ  all  that  industry  and  labour  of  thought,  in  impro- 
ving the  means  of  discovering  truth,  which  they  do   for  the 
colouring  or  support  of  falsehood,  to  maintain  a  system,  interest, 
or  party,  they  are  once  engaged  in.     But  yet  after  all,  I  think  I 
may  without  injury  to  human  perfection,  be  confident,  that  our 
knowledge  would  never  reach  to  all  we  might  desire  to  know 
concerning  those  ideas  we  have ;  nor  be  able  to  surmount  all 
the  difficulties,  and  resolve  all  the  questions  that  might  arise 
concerning  any  of  them.     We  have   the  ideas  of  a  square,  a 
circle,  and  equality  ;  and  yet,  perhaps,  shall  never  be  able  to 
iind  a  circle  equal  to  a  square,  and  certainly  know  that  it  is  so. 
We  have  the  ideas  of  matter  and  thinking,  (1)  but  possibly  shall 
never  be  able  to  know,  whether  any  mere  material  being  thinks, 

(1.)  Against  that  assertion  of  Mr.  Locke,  that  possibly  we  shall  never  be  able  to 
know  whether  any  mere  material  being  thinks  or  no,  &c.  the  bishop  of  Worces- 
ter argues  thus  :  If  this  be  true,  then,  for  all  that  wc  can  know  by  our  ideas  of 
matter  and  thinking,  matter  may  have  a  power  of  thinking  :  and,  if  this  hold,  then 
it  is  impossible  to  prove  a  spiritual  substance  in  us  from  the  idea  of  thinking  :  for 
how  can  we  be  assured  by  our  ideas,  that  God  hath  not  given  such  a  power  of 
thinkin0-  to  matter  so  disposed  as  our  bodies  are  ?  especially  since  it  is  said,* 
"  That,  in  respect  of  our  notions,  it  is  not  much  more  remote  from  our  compre- 
hension to  conceive  that  God  can,  if  lie  pleases,  superadd  to  our  idea  ot  matter  o. 
fucully  of  thinking,  than  that  he  should  supperadd  to  it  another  substance,  with  a 
faculty  of  thinking."'  Whoever  asserts  this  can  never  prove  a  spiritual  substance 
in  us  from  a  faculty  of  thinkin;;'.  because  he  cannot  know,  from  the  idea  of  matter 
and  flunking,  that  matter  so  disposed  cannot  think  :  and  he  cannot  be  certain.  ih;< 
<  »o'l  hUih  not  framed  the  matter  of  our  bodies  so  as  to  be  captfble  of  i' 

*  JEswn  ol'  Hiftnatti  '  iniJmatitnng.B.  4,0.8     • . 


■  Ai.  III. J  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGES.  71 

or  no  ;  it  being  impossible  for  us,  by  the  contemplation  of  our 
own  ideas  without  relation,  to  discover,  whether  omnipotency 
has  not  given  to  some  systems  of  matter,  (itly  disposed,  a  power 
to  perceive  and  think,  or  else  joined  and  fixed  to  matter  so  dis- 

To  which  Mr.  Locke  answers  thus  :*  Here  your  lordship  argues,  that  upon  my 
principles  it  cannot  be  proved  that  there  is  a  spiritual  substance  iri  us.  To  which 
give  me  leave,  with  submission,  to  say,  that  I  think  it  may  be  proved  from  my 
principles,  and  I  think  I  have  done  it;  and  the  proof  in  my  book  stands  thus  : 
First,  we  experiment  in  ourselves  thinking.     The  idea  of  this  action  or  mode  of 
thinking  is  inconsistent  with  the  idea  of  self-subsistence,  and  therefore  has  a 
necessary  connexion  with  a  support  or  subject  of  inhesion  :  the  idea  of  that  sup- 
port is  what  we  call  substance;   and  so  from  thinking  experimented  inns,  we 
have  a  proof  of  a  thinking  substance  in  us,  which  in  my  sense  is  a  spirit.    Against 
this  your  lordship  will  argue,  that,  by  what  I  have  said  of  the  possibility  that  God 
may,  if  he  pleases,  superadd  to  matter  a  faculty  of  thinking,  it  can  never  be  proved 
that  there  is  a  spiritual  substance  in  us,  because,  upon  that  supposition,  it  is 
possible  it  may  be  a  material  substance   that  thinks  in  us.     I  grant  it ;  but  add 
that  the  general  idea  of  substance  being  the  same  every  where,  the  modification 
of  thinking,  or  the  power  of  thinking,  joined  to  it,  makes  it  a  spirit,  without  con- 
sidering what  other  modifications  it  has,  as,  whether  it  has  the  modification  of  so- 
lidity, or  no.  As,  on  the  other  side,  substance,  that  has  the  modification  of  soliditv, 
is  matter,  whether  it  has  the  modification  of  thinking  or  no.     Ami  therefore  if 
your  lordship  means  by  a  spiritual,  an  immaterial  substance,  I  grant  1  have  noi 
proved,  nor  upon  my  principles  can  it  be  proved,  (your  lordship  meaning1,  as  I 
think  you  do,  demonstratively  proved)  that  there  is  an  immaterial  substance  in  us 
that  thinks.     Though  I  presume,  from  what  I  have  said  about  this  supposition  of 
a.  system  of  matter,  thinkingt  (which  there  demonstrates  that  God  is  immaterial) 
will  prove  it  in  the  highest  degree  probable,  that  the  thinking  substance  in  us  is 
immaterial.     But  your  lordship  thinks  not  probability  enough,  and  by  charging 
the  want  of  demonstration  upon  my  principle,  that  the  thinking  thing  in  us  is  im- 
material, your  lordship  seems  to  conclude  it  demonstrable  from  principles  of  phi- 
losophy.    That  demonstration  I  should  with  joy  receive  from  your  lordship,  or 
any  one.     For  though  all  the  great  ends  of  morality  and  religion  are  well  enough 
secured  without  it,  as  I  have  shown.J  yet  it  would  be  a  great  advance  of  our  know- 
ledge in  nature  and  philosophy. 

To  what  I  have  said  in  my  book,  to  show  that  all  the  great  emls  of  religion  and 
morality  are  secured  barely  by  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  without  a  necessary 
supposition  that  the  soul  is  immaterial,  I  crave  leave  to  add,  that  immortality  may 
and  shall  be  annexed  to  that,  which  in  its  own  nature  is  neither  immaterial  nor  h'-°~ 
mortal,  as  the  apostle  expressly  declares  in  these  words,}  For  this  corruptible 
must  put  on  incorruption,  and  this  mortal  must  put  on  immortality. 

Perhaps  my  using  the  word  spirit  for  a  thinking  substance,  without  excluding 
materiality  out  of  it,  will  be  thought  too  great  a  liberty,  and  such  as  deserves  ccn* 
sure,  because  I  leave  immateriality  out  of  the  idea  I  make  it  a  sign  of.  I  readily 
own,  that  words  should  be  sparingly  ventured  on  in  a  sense  wholly  new  ;  and  no- 
thing but  absolute  necessity  can  excuse  the  boldness  of  using  any  term  in  a  sense 
whereof  we  can  produce  no  example.  But,  in  the  present°casc,  I  think  I  have 
great  authorities  to  justify  me.  The  soul  is  agreed,  on  all  hands,  to  be  that  in  u* 
which  thinks.  And  he  that  will  look  into  the  first  book  of  Cicero's  Tusculan 
Questions,  and  into  the  sixth  book  of  Virgil's  tfhieid,  will  find,  that  these  two 
great  men,  who  of  all  the  Romans  best  understood  philosophy,  thought,  or  at  least 
did  not  deny,  the  soul  to  be  a  subtile  matter,  which  might  come  under  the  name  of 
aura,  or  ignis,  or  aether,  and  this  soul  they  both  of  them  called  spirifus  :  in  the  no- 
tion of  which,  it  is  plain,  they  included  only  thought  and  active  motion,  without 
the  total  exclusion  of  matter.  Whether  they  thought  right  in  this,  I  do  not  say  • 
that  is  not  Uie  question  ;  but  whether  they  spoke  properly,  when  they  called  an' 
active,  thinking,  subtile  substance,  out  of  which  they  excluded  only  gross  and  pal- 
pable matter,  spintus,  spirit.     I  think  that  nobody  will  deny,  that  if  any  among t\\o 

In  hi<  first  lelter  to  the  Bishop  of  WorceMri  V    4.  C.  it         . 

>!   *.C  3  (JOT  xv.  581 


"i  i  EXTENT  OP  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV- 

posed,  a  thinking  immaterial  substance  :  it  being,  in  respect  of 
our  notions,  not  much  more  remote  from  our  comprehension  to 
conceive,  that  God  can,  if  he  pleases,  superadd  to  matter  a 
faculty  of  thinking,  than  that  he  should  superadd  to  it  another 

Romans  can  be  allowed  to  speak  properly,  Tully  and  Virgil  are  the  two  who  may 
most  securely  be  depended  on  for  it  :  and  on."  of  them  speaking  of  the  soul,  says, 
Dumspiritus  hos  regetartns;  and  the  other,  Vita  continetur  corpore  et  spiritu. 
Where  it  is  plain,  by  corpus,  he  means  (as  generally  every  where)  only  gross 
matter  that  may  be  felt  and  handled,  as  appears  by  these  words,  Si  cor,  aut  san- 
guis, aut  cerebrum  est  animus  ;  certe,  quoniam  est  corpus,  interibit  cum  reliquo 
corpore  ;  si  anima  est,  forte  dissipabitur  ;  si  ignis,  exi  inguetur,  Tusc.  Quaest.  1. 1. 
c.  11 .  Here  Cicero  opposes  corpus  to  ignis  and  anima,  i.  e.  aura,  or  breath.  And, 
the  foundation  of  that  his  distinction  of  the  soul,  from  that  which  he  calls  corpus, 
or  body,  he  gives  a  little  lower  in  these  words,  Tanta  ejus  tenuitas  ut  fugiat  aciem, 
ib.  c.  22.  Nor  was  it  the  heathen  world  alone  that  had  this  notion  of  spirit ;  the 
most  enlightened  of  all  the  ancient  people  of  God,  Solomon  himself,  speaks  after 
the  same  manner,*  that  which  befalleth  the  sons  of  men,  befalleth  beasts,  even  one 
thing  befalleth  them  ;  as  the  one  dieth,  so  dieth  the  other,  yea,  they  have  all  one 
spirit.  So  I  translate  the  Hebrew  word  j-p-j  here,  for  so  I  find  it  translated  the 
■very  next  verse  but  one  :t  who  knoweth  the  spirit  of  man  that  goeth  upward,  and 
the  spirit  of  the  beast  that  goeth  down  to  the  earth  ?  In  which  places  it  is  plain 
that  Solomon  applies  the  word  ;-p"b  an(l  onr  translators  of  him  the  word  spirit,  to 
a  substance,  out  of  which  materiality  was  not  wholly  excluded,  unless  the  spirit  of 
a  beast  that  goeth  downwards  to  the  earth  be  immaterial.  Nor  did  the  way  of 
speaking  in  our  Saviour's  time  vary  from  this  :  St.  Luke  tells  us,|  that  when  our 
Saviour,  after  his  resurrection,  stood  in  the  midst  of  them,  they  were  affrighted, 
and  supposed  they  had  seen  Ttrvwua,  the.  Greek  word  which  always  answers  to 
spirit  in  English  ;  and  so  the  translators  of  the  Bible  render  it  here,  They  supposed 
that  they  had  seen  a  spirit.  But  our  Saviour  says  to  them,  Behold  my  hands  and 
my  feet,  that  it  is  I  myself;  handle  me  and  see  ;  for  a  spirit  hath  not  flesh  and  bones 
:is  you  see  me  have.  Which  words  of  our  Saviour  put  the  same  distinction  be- 
I  ween  body  and  spirit,  that  Cicero  did  in  the  place  above  cited,  viz.  That  the  one 
was  a  gross  compages  that  could  be  felt  and  handled  ;  and  the  other,  such  a«  Virgil 
describes  the  ghost  or  soul  of  Anchises. 

Ter  conatus  ibi  collo*  dare  brachia  circum, 
Ter  frustra  comprensa  manus  effugit  imago, 
Par  levibus  ventis  volucrique  simillima  somno.J 

I  would  not  be  thought  hereby  to  say,  that  spirit  never  does  signify  a  purely  im- 
material substance.  In  that  sense  the  Scripture,  I  take  it,  speaks,  when  it  savs 
God  is  a  spirit ;  and  in  that  sense  I  have  used  it ;  and  in  that  sense  I  have  proved 
from  my  principles  that  there  is  a  spiritual  substance  ;  and  am  certain  that  there  is 
a  spiritual  immaterial  substance  :  which  is,  I  humbly  conceive,  a  direct  answer  to 
your  lordship's  question  in  the  beginning  of  this  argument,  viz.  How  we  come  to 
lie  certain  that  there  are  spiritual  substances,  supposing  this  principle  to  be  true, 
that  the  simple  ideas  by  sensation  and  reflection  are  the  sole  matter  and  founda- 
tion of  all  our  reasoning  ?  But  this  hinders  not,  but  that  if  God,  that  infinite,  om- 
nipotent, arid  perfectly  immaterial  Spirit,  should  please  to  give  to  a  system  of  very 
subtile  matter,  sensd  and  motion,  it  might  with  propriety  of  speech  be  called  spi- 
rit, though  materiality  were  not  excluded  out  of  its  complex  idea.  Your  lordship 
proceeds,  It  is  said  indeed  elsewhere, ||  that  it  is  repugnant  to  the  idea  of  senseless 
matter,  that  it  should  put  into  itself  sense,  perception,  and  knowledge.  But  this 
doth  not  reach  the  present  case  ;  which  is  not  what  matter  can  do  of  itself,  but 
what  matter  prepared  by  an  omnipotent  hand  can  do.  And  what  certainty  can 
we  have  that  he  hath  not  done  it  ?  We  can  have  none  from  the  ideas,  for  those 
are  given  up  in  this  case,  and  consequently  we  can  have  no  certainty,  upon  these 
principles,  whether  we  have  any  spiritual  substance  within  us  or  not. 

Your  loFdship  in  this  paragraph  proves,  that,  from  what  I  say,  we  can  have  ti: 

*  Krcl.  iii.  13.  tEcclViii.  21.  ;  Cliaa.  s\iv.  r^r- 

1  Lib.  vi.  P.  4.C  10.  Wi 


'H.  Iir.J  EXTENT  OP  HUftAN  KNOWLEDGE.  73 

substance,  with  a  faculty  of  thinking ;  since  we  know  not  wherein 
thinking  consists,  nor  to  what  sort  of  substances  the  Almighty  has 
been  pleased  to  give  that  power,  which  cannot  be  in  any  created 
being,  but  merely  by  the  good  pleasure  and  bounty  of  the  Crea- 

certainty  whether  we  have  any  spiritual  substance  in  us  or  not.  If  by  spiritual 
substance  your  lordship  means  an  immaterial  substance  in  us,  as  you  speak,  I 
grant  what  your  lordship  says  is  true,  that  it  cannot  upon  these  principles  be  de- 
monstrated. But  I  must  crave  leave  to  say  at  the  same  time,  that  upon  these 
principles  it  can  be  proved,  to  the  highest  degree  of  probability.  If  by  spiritual 
substance  your  lordship  means  a  thinking  substance,  I  must  dissent  from  your 
lordship,  and  say,  that  we  can  have  a  certainty,  upon  my  principles,  that  there  is 
a  spiritual  substance  in  us.  In  short,  my  lord,  upon  my  principles,  i.  e.  from  the 
idea  of  thinking,  wc  can  have  a  certainty  that  there  is  a  thinking  substance  in  us  ; 
from  hence  we  have  a  certainty  that  there  is  an  eternal  thinking  substance.  This 
thinking  substance,  which  has  been  from  eternity,  1  have  proved  to  be  immaterial. 
This  eternal,  immaterial,  thinking  substance,  has  put  into  us  a  thinking  substance, 
which,  whether  it  be  a  material  or  immaterial  substance,  cannot  be  infallibly 
demonstrated  from  our  ideas  :  though  from  them  it  may  be  proved,  that  it  is  to  the 
highest  degree  probable  that  it  is  immaterial. 

Again,  the  bishop  of  Worcester  undertakes  to  prove  from  Mr.  Locke's  princi- 
ples, that  we  may  be  certain,  "  That  the  first  eternal  thinking  being,  or  omnipo- 
tent Spirit,  cannot,  if  he  would,  give  to  certain  systems  of  created  sensible  matter,, 
put  together  as  he  sees  fit,  some  degrees  of  sense,  perception,  and  thought." 

To  which  Mr.  Locke  has  made  the  following  answer  in  his  third  letter. 

Your  first  argument  I  take  to  be  this ;  that  according  to  me,  the  knowledge  we  . 
have  being  by  our  ideas,  and  our  idea  of  matter  in  general  being  a  solid  substance, 
and  our  idea  of  bod)',  a  solid  extended  figured  substance  ;  if  I  admit  matter  to  be 
capable  of  thinking,  I  confound  the  idea  of  matter  with  the  idea  of  a  spirit :  to 
which  1  answer.  No,  no  more  thrift  1  confound  the  idea  of  matter  with  the  idea  of 
an  horse,  when  I  say  that  matter  in  general  is  a  solid  extended  substance  ;  and  that 
an  horse  is  a  material  animal,  or  an  extended  solid  substance  with  sense  and  spon- 
taneous motion. 

The  idea  of  matter  is  an  extended  solid  substance ;  wherever  there  is  such  a 
substance,  there  is  matter,  and  the  essence  of  matter,  whatever  other  qualities, 
not  contained  in  that  essence,  it  shall  please  God  to  superadd  to  it.  For  example, 
God  creates  an  extended  solid  substance,  without  the  superadding  any  thing  else 
to  it.  and  so  we  may  consider  it  at  rest :  to  some  parts  of  it  he  superadds  motion, 
but  it  has  still  the  essence  of  matter  :  other  parts  of  it  he  frames  into  plants,  with 
all  the  excellencies  of  vegetation,  life,  and  beauty,  which  is  to  be  found  in  a  rose 
or  peach-tree,  fcc.  above  the  essence  of  matter,  in  general,  but  it  is  still  but  Emit- 
ter :  to  other  parts  he  adds  sense  and  spontaneous  motion,  and  those  other  proper- 
ties that  are  to  be  found  in  an  elephant.  Hitherto  it  is  not  doubted  but'the 
power  of  God  may  go,  and  that  the  properties  of  a  rose,  a  peach,  or  an  elephant, 
superadded  to  matter,  change  not  the  properties  of  matter;  but  matter  is  in  these 
things  matter  still.  But  if  one  venture  to  go  one  step  farther,  and  say,  God  may 
give  to  matter  thought,  reason,  and  volition,  as  well  as  sense  and  spontaneous 
motion,  there  are  men  ready  presently  to  limit  the  power  of  the  omnipotent  Cre- 
ator, and  tell  us  he  cannot  do  it ;  because  it  destroys  the  essence,  or  changes  the 
essential  properties  of  matter.  To  make  good  which  assertion,  they  have  no 
more  to  say,  but  that  thought  and  reason  are  not  included  in  the  essence  of  mat- 
ter. I  grant  it ;  but  whatever  excellency,  not  contained  in  its  essence,  be  super- 
added to  matter,  it  docs  not  destroy  the  essence  of  matter,  if  it  leaves  it  an 
extended  solid  substance  ;  wherever  that  is,  there  is  the  essence  of  matter  :  and  if 
every  thing  of  greater  perfection  superadded  to  such  a  substance,  destroys  the 
essence  of  matter,  what  will  become  of  the  essence  of  matter  in  a  plant  or  an 
animal,  whose  properties  far  exceed  those  of  a  mere  extended  solid  substance? 

But  it  is  farther  urged,  that  we  cannot  conceive  how  matter  can  think.  I  grant 
it }  but  to  argue  from  thence,  that  God  therefore  cannot  give  to  matter  a  faculty 
of  thinking;  i^  to  say  God's  ommpatency  is  limited  to  b  narrow  compass,  because 
man's  understanding  is  so  ;  and  brings  down  God's  infinite  power  to  the  size  of 
"'"'  capacitiesi     It"  fiod  can  [jive  no  power"  ti  anv  part*  of  matter,  but  what  men 


74  EXTENT   OF    HUMAN   KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV. 

tor.  For  I  see  no  contradiction  in  it,  that  the  first  eternal 
thinking  being  should,  if  he  pleased,  give  to  certain  systems  of 
created  senseless  matter  put  together,  as  he  thinks  fit,  some 
degrees  of  sense,  perception,  and  thought :  though,  as  I  think,  I 

can  account  for  from  the  essence  of  matter  in  general ;  if  all  such  qualities  and 
properties  must  destroy  the  essence,  or  change  the  essential  properties  of  matter, 
■which  are  to  our  conceptions  above  it,  and  we  cannot  conceive  to  be  the  natural 
consequence  of  that  essence  ;  it  is  plain  that  the  essence  of  matter  is  destroyed,  and 
its  essential  properties  changed,  in  most  of  the  sensible  parts  of  this  our  system. 
For  it  is  visible,  that  all  the  planets  have  revolutions  about  certain  remote  centres, 
which  I  would  have  any  one  explain,  or  make  conceivable  by  the  bare  essence,  or 
natural  powers  depending  on  the  essence  of  matter  in  general,  without  something 
added  to  that  essence,  which  we  cannot  conceive;  for  the  moving  of  matter  in  a 
crooked  line,  or  the  attraction  of  matter  by  matter,  is  all  that  can  be  said  in  the 
case  ;  either  of  which  it  is  above  our  reach  to  derive  from  the  essence  of  matter  or 
body  in  general ;  though  one  of  these  two  must  unavoidably  be  allowed  to  be 
superadded  in  this  instance  to  the  essence  of  matter  in  general.  The  omnipotent 
Creator  advised  not  with  us  in  the  making  of  the  world,  and  Ins  ways  are  not  the 
less  excellent  because  they  are  past  finding  out. 

In  the  next  place,  the  vegetable  part  of  the  creation  is  not  doubted  to  be  wholly 
material ;  and  yet  he  that  will  look  into  it  will  observe  excellencies  and  opera- 
tions in  this  part  of  matter  which  he  will  not  find  contained  in  the  essence  of 
matter  in  general,  nor  be  able  to  conceive  how  they  can  be  produced  by  it.  And 
will  he  therefore  say,  that  the  essence  of  matter  is  destroyed  in  them,  because  they 
have  properties  and  operations  not  contained  in  the  essential  properties  of  matter 
as  matter,  nor  explicable  by  the  essence  of  matter  in  general  ? 

Let  us  advance  one  step  farther,  and  we  shall  in  the  animal  world  meet  with 
yet  greater  perfections  and  properties,  no  ways  explicable  by  the  essence  of  mat- 
ter in  general.  If  the  omnipotent  Creator  had  not  superadded  to  the  earth,  which 
produced  the  irrational  animals,  qualities  for  surpassing  those  of  the  dull  dead 
earth,  out  of  which  they  were  made,  life,  sense,  and  spontaneous  motion,  nobler 
qualities  than  were  before  in  it,  it  had  still  remained  rude  senselessmatter  ;  and  if 
to  the  individuals  of  each  species  he  had  not  superadded  a  power  of  propagation, 
the  species  had  perished  with  those  individuals  :  but  by  these  essences  or  proper- 
ties of  each  species,  superadded  to  the  matter  which  they  were  made  of,  the 
essences  or  properties  of  matter  in  general  were  not  destroyed  or  changed,  any 
more  than  any  thing  that  was  in  the  individuals  before  was  destroyed  or  changed 
by  the  power  of  generation,  superadded  to  them  by  the  first  benediction  of  the 
Almighty. 

In  all  such  cases,  the  superinducement  of  greater  perfections  and  nobler  quali- 
ties destroys  nothing  of  the  essence  or  perfections  that  were  there  before  ;  unless 
there  can  be  showed  a  manifest  repugnancy  between  them :  but  all  the  proot 
offered  for  that,  is  only,  that  we  cannot  conceive  how  matter,  without  such  super- 
added perfections,  can  produce  such  effects;  which  is,  in  truth,  no  more  than  V> 
say,  matter  in  general,  or  every  part  of  matter,  as  matter,  has  them  not ;  but  is  no 
reason  to  prove,  that  God,  if  he  pleases,  cannot  superadd  them  to  some  parts  ol 
matter,  unless  it  can  be  proved  to  be  a  contradiction,  that  God  should  give  to  some 
parts  of  matter  qualities  and  perfections,  which  matter  in  general  has  not ;  though 
Ave  cannot  conceive  how  matter  is  invested  with  them,  or  how  it  operates  by  virtue 
of  those  new  endowments  ;  nor  is  it  to  be  wondered  that  we  cannot,  whilst  we 
limit  all  its  operations  to  those  qualities  it  had  before,  and  would  explain  them  by 
the  known  properties  of  matter  in  general,  without  any  such  induced  perfection-. 
For,  if  this  be  the  right  rule  of  reasoning,  to  deny  a  thing  to  be,  because  we  can- 
not conceive  the  manner  how  it  comes  to  be  ;  I  shall  desire  them  who  use  it,  to 
^tiek  to  this  rule,  and  see  what  work  it  will  make  both  in  divinity  as  well  as  philo- 
sophy :  and  whether  they  can  advance  any  thing  more  in  favour  of  scepticism; 

For  to  keep  within  the  present  subject  of  the  power  of  thinking  and   self-mo- 
tion, bestowed  by  omnipotent '  power  in  some  parts  of  matter  :  the  objection  to 
this  is,  I  cannot  conceive  how  matter  should  think.     What  is  the  consequence 
Ergo,  God  cannot  give  it  a  power  to  think.     Let  this  stand  for  a  good  reason,  an'' 
then  proceed  mother  cases  by  the  s:<me.     Vou  carrot  conceive-  how  matter  cS  > 


i,H.  III.]  EXTENT  OP   HUMAN   KNOWLEimu.  75 

have  proved,  lib.  4.  ch.  10.  §  14.  it  is  no  less  than  a  contradiction 
to  suppose  matter  (which  is  evidently  in  its  own  nature  void  of 

sense  and  thought)  should  be  that  eternal  first  thinking  Being. 

What  certainty  of  knowledge  can  any  one  have  that  some  per- 

attract  matter  at  any  distance,  much  less  at  the  distance  of  1,000,000  miles;  er^o, 
Clod  cannot  give  it  such  a  power :  yoa  cannot  conceive  how  matter  should  feel,  or 
move  itself,  or  aflect  an  immaterial  being,  or  be  moved  by  it ;  ergo,  God  cannot 
give  it  such  powers:  which  is  in  effect  to  deny  gravity,  and  Uie  revolution  of  tin- 
planets  about  the  sun ;  to  make  brutes  mere  machines,  without  sense  or  sponta- 
neous motion  ;  and  to  allow  man  neither  sense  nor  voluntary  motion. 

Let  us  apply  this  rule  one  degree  farther.  You  cannot  conceive  how  an  ex- 
tended solid  substance  should  think,  therefore  God  cannot  make  it  think :  can  you 
conceive  how  your  own  soul,  or  any  substance,  thinks  i  You  find  indeed  that  you 
do  think,  and  so  do  I  :  but  I  want  to  be  told  how  the  action  of  thinking  is  per- 
formed :  this,  1  confess,  is  beyond  my  conception  ;  and  I  would  be  glad  any  one, 
who  conceives  it,  would  explain  it  to  me.  God,  I  find,  has  given  me  this  faculty ; 
and  since  I  cannot  but  be  convinced  of  his  power  in  this  instance,  which  though 
I  every  moment  experiment  in  myself,  yet  I  cannot  conceive  the  manner  of;  what 
would  it  be  less  than  an  insolent  absurdity,  to  deny  his  power  in  other  like  cases 
only  for  this  reason,  because  I  cannot  conceive  the  manner  how  ? 

To  explain  this  matter  a  little  iarther :  God  has  created  a  substance  ;  let  it  be, 
for  example,  a  solid  extended  substance.  Js  God  bound  to  give  it,  besides  bein°- 
a  power  of  action  ?  that,  I  think,  nobody  will  say  :  he  therefore  may  leave  it  in°;i 
state  of  inactivity,  and  it  will  be  nevertheless  a  substance  ;  for  action  is  not  neces- 
sary to  the  being  of  any  substance  that  God  does  create.  God  has  likewise 
created  and  made  to  exist,  de  novo,  an  immaterial  substance,  which  will  not  lose 
its  being  of  a  substance,  though  God  should  bestow  on  it  nothing  more  but  this 
bare  being,  without  giving  it  any  activity  at  all.  Here  are  now  two  distinct  sub- 
stances, Uie  one  material,  the  oUier  immaterial,  boUi  in  a  state  of  perfect  inactivity. 
Now  I  ask,  what  power  God  can  give  to  one  of  these  substances  (supposing  them 
to  retain  the  same  distinct  natures  that  they  had  as  substances  in  their  state  of 
inactivity)  which  he  cannot  give  to  the  oUier  ?  In  that  state,  it  is  plain,  neither  of 
them  thinks  ;  for  thinking  being  an  action,  it  cannot  be  denied,  Unit  Ciod  can  put  an 
cud  to  any  action  of  any  created  substance,  \>.  ithout  annihilating  of  the  substance 
whereof  it  is  an  action  ;  and  if  it  be  so,  he  can  also  create  or  give  existence  to  such 
a  substance,  without  giving  that  substance  any  action  at  all.  By  the  same  reason 
it  is  plain,  that  neither  of  them  can  move  itself  :  now,  I  would  ask,  why  Omnipo- 
tency  cannot  give  to  either  of  these  substances,  which  are  equally  in  a  state  of 
perfect  inactivity,  the  same  power  that  it  can  give  to  Uie  other?  Let  it  be,  for 
example,  that  of  spontaneous  or  self-motion,  which  is  a  power  that  it  is  supposed 
God  can  give  to  an  unsolid  substance,  but  denied  that  he  can  give  to  solid  sub- 
stance. 

If  it  be  asked,  why  they  limit  the  omnipotency  of  God,  in  reference  to  the  one 
rather  than  the  other  of  these  substances  ?  all  that  can  be  said  to  it  is,  that  thev- 
cannot  conceive,  how  the  solid  substance  should  ever  be  able  to  move  itself 
And  as  little,  say  I,  are  they  able  to  conceive,  how  a  created  unsolid  substance 
should  more  itself.  But  there  may  be  something  in  an  immaterial  substance 
that  youdo  not  know.  I  grant  it;  and  in  a  material  one  too :  for  example, gravita 
tion  of  matter  towards  matter,  and  in  the  several  proportions  observable,  inevitably 
shows  that  there  is  something  in  matter  that  we  do  not  understand,  unless  we  can 
conceive  self-motion  in  matter ;  or  an  inexplicable  and  inconceivable  attraction 
in  matter,  at  immense,  almost  incomprehensible' distances  ;  it  must  therefore  be 
confessed;  that  there  is  something  in  solid,  as  well  as  in  unsolid  substances,  that  we 
do  not  understand.  But  this  we  know,  that  they  may  each  of  them  have  their 
distinct  beings, 'Without  any  activity  superadded  to  them,  unless  you  will  deny. 
that  God  can  take  from  any  being  its  power  of  acting,  which  it  is  probable  will  be 
Thought  too  presumptuous  for  any  one  to  do;  and  I  say,  it  is  as  hard  to  conceive 
:  ►  If-molion  iii  a  created  immaterial,  as  in  u  material  being,  consider  it  how  you 
will :  and  therefore  this  is  no  reason  to  deny  Omnipotency  to  be  able  to  °-ive  a 
power  of  self-motion  to  a  material  substance  if  he  pleases,  as  well  as  to  an  immate- 
rial ;  since  neither  of  them  can  have  it  fr?m  themselves,  nor  can  we  conceive  b-m 
,t  r:an  be  in  either  of  them. 


7ti  extent  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV. 

ceptions,  such  as,  v.  g.  pleasure  and  pain,  should  not  be  in  some 
bodies  themselves,  after  a  certain  manner  modified  and  moved. 
as  well  as  that  they  should  be  in  an  immaterial  substance,  upon 
the  motion  of  the  parts  of  body  ?     Body,  as  far  as  we  can  con- 

The  same  is  visible  in  the  other  operation  of  thinking; ;  both  these  substances 
may  be  made,  and  exist  without  thought ;  neither  of  them  has,  or  can  have  the 
power  of  thinking;  from  itself :  God  may  give  it  to  either  of  them,  according  to  the 
good  pleasure  of  his  omnipotency  ;  and  in  whichever  of  them  it  is,  it  is  equally 
beyond  our  capacity  to  conceive  hoWeither  of  these  substances  thinks.  But  for 
that  reason  to  deny  that  God,  who  had  power  enough  to  give  them  both  a  being  out 
of  nothing,  can,  by  the  same  omnipotency,  give  them  what  other  powers  and  per- 
fections he  pleases,  has  no  better  foundation  than  to  deny  his  power  of  creation, 
because  we  cannot  conceive  how  it  is  performed  :  and  there,  at  last,  this  way  of 
reasoning  must  terminate. 

That  Omnipotency  cannot  make  a  substance  to  be  solid  and  not  solid  at  the 
same  time,  I  think  with  due  reverence  we  may  say  ;  but  that  a  solid  substance 
may  not  have  qualities,  perfections,  and  powers,  which  have  no  natural  or  visibly 
necessary  connexion  with  solidity  and  extension,  is  too  much  for  us  (who  are  but 
of  yesterday,  and  know  nothing)  to  be  positive  in.  If  God  cannot  join  things 
together  by  connexions  inconceivable  to  us,  we  must  deny  even  the  consistency 
and  being  of  matter  itself ;  since  every  particle  of  it  having  some  bulk,  has  its 
parts  connected  by  ways  inconceivable  to  us.  So  that  all  the  difficulties  that  are 
raised  against  the  thinking  of  matter,  from  our  ignorance,  or  narrow  conceptions, 
stand  not  at  all  in  the  way  of  the  power  of  God,  if  he  pleases  to  ordain  it  so  ;  nor 
prove  any  thing  against  his  having  actually  endued  some  parcels  of  matter,  so 
disposed  as  he  thinks  lit,  with  a  faculty  of  thinking,  till  it  can  be  shown  that  it 
contains  a  contradiction  to  suppose  it. 

Though  to  me  sensation  be  comprehended  under  thinking  in  general,  yet,  in  the 
foregoing  discourse,  I  have  spoke  of  sense  in  brutes,  as  distinct  from  thinking  ; 
because  your  lordship,  as  I  remember,  speaks  of  sense  in  brutes.  But  here  I  take 
liberty  to  observe,  that  if  your  lordship  allows  brutes  to  have  sensation,  it  will 
follow  either  that  God  can  and  doth  give  to  some  parcels  of  matter  a  power  of 
perception  and  thinking;  or  that  all  animals  have  immaterial,  and  conse- 
quently, according  to  your  lordship,  immortal  souls  as  well  as  men  ;  and  to  say 
that  fleas  and  mites,  &c.  have  immortal  souls  as  well  as  men,  will  possibly  be 
looked  on  as  going  a  great  way  to  serve  an  hypothesis. 

I  have  been  pretty  large  in  making  this  matter  plain,  that  they  who  are  so  for- 
ward to  bestow  hard  censures  or  names  on  the  opinions  of  those  who  differ  from 
them,  may  consider  whether  sometimes  they  are  not  more  due  to  their  own  ;  and 
that  they  may  be  persuaded  a  little  to  temper  that  heat,  which,  supposing  the 
truth  in  their  current  opinions,  gives  them  (as  they  think)  a  right  to  lay  what  im- 
putations they  ptease  on  those  who  would  fairly  examine  the  grounds  they  stand 
upon.  For  talking  with  a  supposition  and  insinuations,  that  truth  and  knowledge; 
nay,  and  religion  too,  stand  and  fall  with  their  systems,  is  at  best  but  an  imperious 
way  of  begging  the  question,  and  assuming  to  themselves,  under  the  pretence  of 
zeal  for  the  cause  of.  God,  a  title  to  infallibility.  It  is  very  becoming  that  men's 
zeal  for  truth  should  go  as  far  as  their  proofs,  but  not  go  for  proofs  themselves.  He 
that  attacks  received  opinions  with  any  thing  but  fair  arguments,  may,  I  own,  be 
justly  suspected  not  to  mean  well,  nor  to  be  led  by  the  love  of  truth ;  but  the 
same  may  be  said  of  him  too,  who  so  defends  them.  An  error  is  not  the  better 
for  being  common,  nor  truth  the  worse  for  having  lain  neglected  :  and  if  it  were 
put  to  the  vote  any  where  in  the  world,  I  doubt,  as  things  are  managed,  whether 
truth  would  have  the  majority,  at  least  whilst  the  authority  of  men,  and  not  the 
examination  of  things,  must  be  its  measure.  The  imputation  of  scepticism,  and 
those  broad  insinuations  to  render  what  I  have  writ  suspected,  so  frequent,  as  if 
that  were  the  great  business  of  all  this  pains  you  have  been  at  about  me,  has 
made  me  say  thus  much,  my  lord,  rather  as  my  sense  of  the  way  to  establish 
truth  in  its  full  force  and  beauty,  than  that  I  think  the  world  will  need  to  haw- 
any  thing  said  to  it,  to  make  it  distinguish  between  your  lordship's  and  my  design 
in  writing,  which  therefore  I  securely  leave  to  the  judgment  of  the  reader,  and 
return  to  the  argument  in  hand. 

What  I  have  above  said,  I  take  to  be  a  full  answer  to  all  that  your  lordship 
would  infer  from  my  idea  of  matter,  of  liberty,  of  identity,  and  from  the  power 


q'jt.  l.IIaj  EXXSNT OF  HUMAN  KNOWIiMlOE.  «' i' 

ceive,  being  able  only  to  strike  and  affect  body  5  and  motion, 
according  to  the  utmost  reach  of  our  ideas,  being  able  to  pro- 
duce nothing  but  motion  ;  so  that  when  we  allow  it  to  produce 
pleasure  or  pain,  or  the  idea  of  a  colour  or  sound,  we  are  fain 

of  abstracting.  You  ask,*  how  can  mvidea<of  lieerty  agree  with  the  idea  that 
bodies  can  operate  only  by  motion  and  impulse?  Ans.  By  the  omnipotency  of 
God,  who  can  make  all  things  agree, that  involve  nota  contradiction.  It  is  true, 
1  say,f  "•  That  bodies  operate  by  inipul.se,  and  nothing  else."  And  so  1  thought 
when  I  writ  it,  and  can  yet  conceive  no  other  way  of  their  operation.  But  I  am 
since  convinced  by  the  judicious  Mr.  Newton's  incomparable  book,  that  it  is  too 
!>old  a  presumption  to  limit  God's  power  in  this  point  by  my  narrow  conception.-, 
The  gravitation  of  matter  towards  matter,  by  ways  inconceivable  to  me,  is  not 
only  a  demonstration  that  God  can,  if  he  pleases,  put  into  bodies  powers,  and 
ways  of  operation,  above  what  can  be  derived  from  our  idea  of  body,  or  can  be 
explained  by  what  we  know  of  matter,  but  also  an  unquestionable,  and  every 
where  visible  instance,  that  he  has  done  so.  And  therefore  in  the  next  edition  oi 
my  book,  I  will  lake  care  to  have  that  passage  rectified. 

As  to  self-consciousness,  your  lordship  asks.j  What  is  there  like  self-con- 
Piousness  in  matter  ?  Nothing  at  all  in  matter  as  matter.  But  that  (Sod  cannot 
bestow  on  some  parcels  of  matter  a  power  ol  thinking,  and  with  it  self-conscious- 
ness, will  never  be  proved  by  asking,?  How  is  it  possible  to  apprehend  that  mere 
body  should  perceive  that  it  doth  perceive  ?  The  weakness  of  our  apprehension  I 
grant  in  the  case  :  1  confess  as  much  as  you  please,  that  we  cannot  conceive  how  a, 
solid,  no,  nor  how  an  unsolid  created  substance  thinks  ;  but  this  weakness  of  our 
apprehensions  reaches  not  the  power  of  God,  whose  weakness  is  stronger  than  any 
thing  in  men. 

Your  argument  from  abstraction  we  have  in  this  question, [|  If  it  may  be  in  the 
power  of  matter  to  think,  how  comes  it  to  be  so  impossible  for  such  organized 
bodies  as  the  brutes  have,  to  enlarge  their  ideas  by  abstraction  ?  Ans.  This  seems 
to  suppose, that  I  place  thinking  within  the  natural  power  of  matter.  If  that  be 
your  meaning,  my  lord,  i  never  say,  nor  suppose,  that  all  matter  has  naturally  in 
it  a  faculty  of  thinking,  but  the  direct  contrary,  But  if  you  mean  that  certain 
parcels  of  matter,  ordered  by  the  Divine  power,  as  seems  lit  to  him,  may  be  made 
capable  of  receiving  from  his  omnipotency  the  faculty  of  thinking  ;  that,  indeed, 
!  say  ;  and  that  being  granted,  the  answer  to  your  question  is  easy  ;  since  if  Omni- 
poteney«ad  give  thought  to  any  solid  substance,  it  is  not  hard  to  conceive,  that 
<  jod  may  give  that  faculty  in  a  higher  or  lower  degree,  as  it  pleases  him,  who 
knows  what  disposition  of  the  subject  is  suited  to  such  a  particular  way  or  degree 
of  thinking. 

Another  argument  to  ]  nine  any  parcel  of  matter  with 

1he  faculty  of  thinking,  is  taken  from  those;  words  of  mine,''*  where  I  shoAV,  by 
what  connexion  oi  ideas  we  may  come  to  know,  that  God  is  an  immaterial  sub- 
stance, They  are  these,  J'The  idea  of  an  eternal  actual  knowing  being.with  the  idea 
of  immateriality,  by  the  intervention  of  the  idea  of  matter,  and  of  its  actual  divi- 
sion, divisibility,  and  want  of  perception,"  <fcc.  From  whence  your  lordship  thus 
argues, tt  Here  the  want  of  perception  is  owned  to  be  so  essential  to  matter,  that 
God  is  therefore  concluded  to  be  immaterial,  Ans.  Perception  and  knowledge  in 
inat  one  eternal  being,  where  it  has  its  source,  it  is  visible  must  be  essential!; 

(separable  from  it;  therefore  the  actual  want  of  perception  in  so  great  a  part 
of  the  particular  parcels  of  matter,  is  a  demonstration,  that  the  first  being,  from 
whom  perception  and  knowledge  are  inseparable,  is  not  matter:  how  far  this 
makes  the  want  of  perception  an  essentia]  property  of  matter,  I  will  not  dispute  : 
.  suffices  that  it  shows,  that  perception  is  not  an  essential  property  of  matter ; 
and  therefore  matter  cannot  be  that  eternal  original  being  to  which  perception 
and  knowledge  are  essential.  Matter,  1  say,  naturally  is  without  perception  ; 
ergo,  says  your  lord-hip,  want  of  perception  is  an  essential  property  of  matter  ; 
and  (1  od  docs  not  change  the  essential  properties  of  things,  their  nature  remaining. 
From  whence  you  inter,  that  God  cannot  bestow  on  any  parcel  of  matter  (the 
oature  of  ma  tier  remaining)  a  faculty  of  thinking.  If  the  rules  oflogie,  since  my 
be  not  changed,  I  may  Bafely  deny  this  consequence.     For  an  argi 

*  i  .-t  '•  i  .   1;. .".  §11.  [1st  Answer. 

istAi  '  Letter,     ft  lsl  Answer 


78  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN'  KNOWLEDGE.  [liOOK  IV. 

to  quit  our  reason,  go  beyond  our  ideas,  and  attribute  it  wholly 
to  the  good  pleasure  of  our  Maker.  For  since  we  must  allow 
he  has  annexed  effects  to  motion,  which  we  can  noway  conceive 
motion  able  to  produce,  what  reason  have  we  to  conclude,  that 

that  runs  thus,  God  does  not ;  ergo,  he  cannot,  I  was  taught  when  I  first  came  to 
♦  he  university,  would  not  hold.  For  I  never  said  God  did  ;  but,*  "  That  I  see  no 
contradiction  in  it,  that  he  should,  if  he  pleased,  give  to  some  systems  of  sense- 
less matter  a  faculty  of  thinking;"  and  I  know  nobody  before  Des  Cartes,  that 
ever  pretended  to  show  that  there  was  any  contradiction  in  it.  So  that  at  worse, 
my  not  being  able  to  see  in  matter  any  such  incapacity,  as  makes  it  impossible  for 
Omnipotency  to  bestow  on  it  a  faculty  of  thinking,  makes  me  opposite  only  to  the 
Cartesians.  For,  as  far  as  I  have  seen  or  heard,  the  fathers  of  the  Christian 
church  never  pretended  to  demonstrate  that  matter  was  incapable  to  receive  a 
power  of  sensation,  perception,  and  thinking,  from  the  hand  of  the  omnipotent 
Creator. '  Let  us  therefore,  if  you  please,  suppose  the  form  of  your  argumentation 
ri"ht,  and  that  your  lordship  means,  God  cannot :  and  then,  if  your  argument  be 
good,  it  proves,  that  God  could  not  give  to  Balaam's  ass  a  power  to  speak  to  his 
master  as  he  did  ;  for  the  want  of  rational  discourse  being  natural  to  that  specie?, 
it  is  but  for  your  lordship  to  call  it  an  essential  property,  and  then  God  cannot 
change  the  essential  properties  of  things,  their  nature  remaining  :  whereby  it  is 
proved,  that  God  cannot,  with  all  his  omnipotency,  give  to  au  ass  a  power  to  speak 
as  Balaam's  did. 

You  say,t  my  lord,  You  do  not  set  bounds  to  God's  omnipotency :  for  he  may,  if 
he  please,  change  a  body  into  an  immaterial  substance,  i.  e.  take  away  from  a 
substance  the  solidity  which  it  had  before,  and  which  made  it  matter,  and  then 
give  it  a  faculty  of  thinking  which  it  had  not  before,  and  which  makes  it  a  spirit, 
the  same  substance  remaining.  For  if  the  substance  remains  not,  body  is  not 
changed  into  an  immaterial  substance,  but  the  solid  substance,  and  all  belonging 
to  it,  is  annihilated,  and  an  immaterial  substance  created,  which  is  not  a  change 
nf  one  thing  into  another,  but  the  destroying  of  one,  and  making  another  de  novo. 
In  this  change  therefore  of  a  body  or  material  substance  into  an  immaterial,  let 
us  observe  these  distinct  considerations. 

First,  you  say,  God  may,  if  he  pleases,  take  away  from  a  solid  substance  soli- 
dity, which  is  that  which  makes  it  a  material  substance  or  body  ;  and  may  make 
it  an  immaterial  substance,  i.  e.  a  substance  without  solidity.  But  this  privation 
of  one  quality  gives  it  not  another  ;  the  bare  taking  away  a  lower  or  less  noble 
quality  does  not  give  it  an  higher  or  nobler ;  that  must  be  the  gift  of  God.  For 
the  bare  privation  of  one,  and  a  meaner  quality,  cannot  be  the  position  of  an 
higher  and  better  ;  unless  any  one  will  say,  that  cogitation,  or  the  power  of  think- 
ing, results  from  the  nature  of  substance  itself;  which  if  it  do,  then  wherever 
there  is  substance,  there  must  be  cogitation,  or  a  power  of  thinking.  Here  then, 
upon  your  lordship's  own  principles,  is  an  immaterial  substance  without  (h« 
faculty  of  thinking. 

In  the  next  plate,  you  will  not  deny,  but  God  may  give  to  this  substance,  thus 
deprived  of  solidity,  a  faculty  of  thinking ;  for  you  suppose  it  made  capable 
of  that,  by  being  made  immaterial;  whereby  you  allow,  that  the  same  nu- 
merical substance  may  be  sometimes  wholly  incogitative,  or  without  a  p©wei 
of  thinking,  and  at  other  times  perfectly  cogitative,  or  endued  with  a  power 
of  thinking. 

Further,  yon  will  not  deny,  but  God  can  give  it  solidity  and  make  it  material 
a^ain.  For,  I  conclude,  it  will  not  be  denied,  that  God  can  make  it  again  what.it 
Was  before.  Now  I  crave  leave  to  ask  your  lordship,  why  God,  having  given  to  this 
substance  the  faculty  of  thinking  after  solidity  was  taken  from  it,  cannot  restore 
to  it  solidity  again  without  taking  ;i  way  the  faculty  of  thinking?  When  you  have 
resolved  this,  my  lord,  you  will  have  proved  it  impossible  for  God's  oinnipolenee 
|o  "ive  a  solid  substance  a  faculty  of  thinking;  but  till  then,  not  having  proved 
it  impossible,  and  yet  denying  that  God  can  do  it,  is  to  deny  that  he  can  do  wha 
is-  in  itself  possible  ;  which  as  1  humbly  conceive,  is  visibly  to  set  bounds  to  God's, 
•unnipotejicy,  though  you  say  hmcj;  you  do  not  set  bounds  to  God's  omnipotence, 

■'15   '.  C  3  '•'  TlstAmVSr:  '.  mApswcf. 


-IH.  111.]  EXTENT  OP  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE,  79 

he  could  not  order  them  as  well  to  be  produced  in  a  subject  we 
cannot  conceive  capable  of  them,  as  well  as  in  a  subject  we 
cannot  conceive  the  motion  of  matter  can  any  way  operate 
upon?     I  say  not  this,  that  I  would  anyway  lessen  the  belief 

If  I  .should  imitate  your  lordship's  way  of  writing,  I  should  not  omit  to  bring 
in  Epicurus  here,  and  take  notice  that  this  was  his  way,  Deum  verbis  ponerc,  re 
tollere  :  and  then  add,  that  I  am  certain  you  do  not  think  he  promoted  the  great 
ends  of  religion  and  morality.  For  it  is  with  such  candid  and  kind  insinuations 
as  these,  that  you  bring  in  both  Hobbes*  and  Spinosat  into  your  discourse  hero 
about  God's  being  able,  if  he  please,  to  give  to  some  parcels  of  matter,  ordered 
as  he  thinks  fit,  a  faculty  of  thinking  :  neither  of  those  authors  having,  as  appears 
by  any  passages  you  bring  out  of  them,  raid  any  thing  to  this  question,  nor  having, 
;is  it  seems,  any  other  business  here,  but  by  their  names  skilfully  to  give  that 
Character  to  my  book,  with  which  you  would  recommend  it  to  the  world. 

1  pretend  not  to  inquire  what  measure  of  zeal,  nor  for  what,  guides  your  lord- 
ship's pen  in  such  a  way  of  writing,  as  yours  has  all  along  been  with  me  :  only  I 
cannot  but  consider,  what  reputation  it  would  give  to  the  writings  of  the  fathers 
of  the  church,  if  they  should  think  truth  required,  or  religion  allowed  them  to 
imitate  such  patterns.  But  God  be  thanked,  there  be  those  among  them  who  do 
not  admire  such  ways  of  managing  the  cause  of  truth  or  religion  ;  they  being 
sensible  that  if  every  one,  who  believes  or  can  pretend  he  hath  truth  on  his  side, 
is  thereby  authorized,  without  proof,  to  insinuate  whatever  may  serve  to  preju- 
dice men's  minds  against  the  other  side,  there  will  be  great  ravage  made  on  charity 
and  practice,  without  any  gain  to  truth  or  knowledge  :  and  that  the  liberties 
frequently  taken  by  disputants  to  do  so,  may  have  been  the  cause  that  the  world 
in  all  ages  has  received  so  much  harm,  and  so  little  advantage  from  controversies 
jn  religion. 

These  are  the  arguments  which  your  lordship  has  brought  to  confute  one  say- 
ing in  my  book,  by  other  passages  in  it ;  which  therefore  being  all  but  argument  a 
ad  hominem,  if  they  did  prove  what  they  do  not,  are  of  no  other  use,  than  to  gain 
a  victory  over  me  :  a  Uiing,  methinks,  so  much  beneath  your  lordship,  that  it  does 
not  deserve  one  of  your  pages.  The  question  is,  whether  God  can,  if  heph  < 
l>estow  on  any  parcel  of  matter,  ordered  as  he  thinks  fit,  a  faculty  of  perception 
and  thinking.  You  sajr,;j:  you  look  upon  a  mistake  herein  to  be  of  dangerous  con- 
sequence as  to  the  great  ends  of  religion  and  morality.  If  this  be  so,  my  lord,  J 
think  one  may  well  wonder,  why  your  lordship  has  brought  no  arguments  to 
establish  the  truth  itself,  which  you  look  on  to  be  of  such  dangerous  consequence 
to  be  mistaken  in  ;  but  have  spent  so  many  pages  only  in  a  personal  matter,  in 
endeavouring  to  show,  that  I  had  inconsistencies  in  my  book  ;  which  if  any  such 
tiling  had  been  showed,  the  question  would  be  still  as  far  from  being  decided,  and 
the  danger  of  mistaking  about  it  as  little  prevented,  as  if  nothing  of  all  this  had 
been  said.  If  therefore  your  lordship's  care  of  the  great  ends  of  religion  and 
morality  have  made  you  think  it  necessary  to  clear  this  question,  the  world  has 
reason  to  conclude  there  is  little  to  be  said  against  that  proposition  which  is  to  be 
found  in  my  book,  concerning  the  possibility,  that  some  parcels  of  matter  might 
be  so  ordered  by  Omnipotence,  as  to  be  endued  with  a  faculty  of  thinking,if  God 
so  pleased;  since  your  lordship's  concern  for  the  promoting  the  great  ends  of  reli- 
gion and  morality,  has  not  enabled  you  to  produce  one  argument  against  a  proprf 
sition  that  you  think  of  so  dangerous  consequence  to  them. 

And  here  I  crave  leave  to  observe,  that  though  in  your  title  page  you  promise 
to  prove  that  my  notion  of  ideas  is  inconsistent  with  itself,  (which  if  it  were,  it 
could  hardly  be  proved  to  be  inconsistent  with  any  thing  else)  and  with  the  articles 
of  the  Christian  faith  :  yet  your  attempts  all  along  have  been  to  prove  me,  in  some 
passages  of  my  book,  inconsistent  with  myself,  without  having  shown  any  pro- 
position in  my  book  inconsistent  with  any  article  »(  the  Christian  faith. 

I  think  your  lordship  has  indeed  made  use  of  one  argument  of  your  owu  ;  but 
it  is  such  an  one, that  I  confess  I  ddnol  see  how  ii  is  apt  much  to  promote  religion, 
•  peeially  the  Christian  religion,  founded  on  revelation.  [  shall  set  down  your 
lordship's  words,  that  they  maybe  considered  :  yon  say,}  that  youajreof  opinion, 

fsl  Answer  [bid 


80  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGES-  [BOOK  iV- 

of  the  soul's  immateriality  :  I  am  not  here  speaking  of  probabi- 
lity, but  knowledge ;  and  I  think  not  only,  that  it  becomes  the 
modesty  of  philosophy  not  to  pronounce  magisterially,  where  we. 
want  that  evidence  that  can  produce  knowledge  5  but  also  that  it 

1'iat  the  great  ends  of  religion  and  morality  are  best  secured  by  the  proofs  of  tlv 
immortality  of  the  soul  from  tta  nature  and  properties;  and  which  you  think 
prove  it  immaterial.  Your  lordship  does  not  question  whether  God  can  give 
immortality  to  a  material  substance  ;  but  you  say  it  takes  off  very  much  from  the. 
evidence  of  immortality,  if  it  depend  wholly  upon  God's  giving  that,  which  of  its 
own  nature  it  is  not  capable  of,  &c.  So  likewise  you  say,*  if  a  man  cannot  be. 
certain,  but  that  matter  may  think,  (as  I  affirm)  then  what  becomes  of  the  sours 
immateriality  (and  consequently  immortality)  from  its  operations?  But  for  al1 
this,  say  I,  his  assurance  of  faith  remains  on  its  own  basis.  Now  you  appeal  to  any 
man  of  sense,  whether  the  finding  the  uncertainty  of  his  own  principles,  which  he 
went  upon,  in  point  of  reason,  doth  not  weaken  the  credibility  of  these  fundamen- 
tal articles  when  they  are  considered  purely  as  matters  of  faith  ?  For  before,  there 
was  a  natural  credibility  in  thpm  on  account  of  reason  ;  but  by  going  on  wrong 
grounds  of  certainty,  all  that  is  lost,  and  instead  of  being  certain,  he  is  more  doubt- 
ful than  ever.  And  if  the  evidence  of  faith  fall  so  much  short  of  that  of  reason, 
it  must  needs  have  less  effect  upon  men's  minds,  when  the  subserviency  of  reason 
is  taken  away ;  as  it  must  be  when  the  grounds  of  certainty  by  reason  are  vanished. 
Is  it  at  all  probable,  that  he  who  finds  his  reason  deceive  him  in  such  fundamental 
points,  shall  have  his  faith  stand  firm  and  immoveable  on  the  account  of  revela- 
tion ?  For  in  matters  of  revelation  there  must  be  some  antecedent  principles  sup- 
posed, before  we  can  believe  any  thing  on  the  account  of  it. 

More  to  the  same  purpose  we  have  some  pages  farther,  where,  from  some  oi 
my  words  your  lordship  says,t  you  cannot  but  observe,  that  we  have  no  certainty 
upon  my  grounds,  that  self-consciousness  depends  upon  an  individual  -imma  - 
terial  substance,  and  consequently  that  a  material  substance  may,  according  t<« 
my  principles,  have  self-consciousness  in  it;  at  least, that  I  am  not  certain  of  the 
contrary.  Whereupon  your  lordship  bids  me  consider,  whether  this  doth  not  a 
little  affect  the  whole  article  of  the  resurrection.  What  does  all  this  tend  to,  but 
to  make  the  world  believe  that  I  have  lessened  the  credibility  of  the  immortality 
of  the  soul,  and  the  resurrection,  by  saying,  that  though  it  be  most  highly  proba- 
ble, that  the  soul  is  immaterial,  yet  upon  my  principles  it  cannot  be  demonstra- 
ted ;  because  it  is  not  impossible  to  God's  omuipotency,  if  he  pleases,  to  bestow 
upon  some  parcels  of  matter,  disposed  as  he  sees  fit,  a  faculty  of  thinking? 

This  your  accusation  of  my  lessening  the  credibility  of  these  articles  of  faith,  is 
founded  on  this,  that  the  article  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  abates  of  its  credi- 
bility, if  it  be  allowed,  that  its  immateriality  (which  is  the  supposed  proof  from  - 
reason  and  philosophy  of  its  immortality)  cannot  be  demonstrated  from  natural 
reason  :  which  argument  of  your  lordship1?,  bottoms,  as  I  humbly  conceive,  on 
this,  that  divine  revelation  abates  of  its  credibility  in  all  those  articles  it  propose- - 
proportionably  as  human  reason  fails  to  support  the  testimony  of  God.  And  nil 
that  your  lordship  in  those  passages  has  said,  when  examined,  will,  I  suppose,  be 
found  to  import  thus  much,  viz.  Does  God  propose  any  thing  to  mankind  to  be 
believed?  It  is  very  fit  and  credible  to  be  believed,  if  reason  "can  demonstrate 
it  to  be  true.  But  if  human  reason  come  short  in  the  case,  and  cannot  make  it. 
out,  its  credibility  is  thereby  lessened  ;  which  is  in  effect  to  say,  that  the  veracity 
of  God  is  not  a  firm  and  sure  foundation  of  faith  to  rely  upon,  without  the  con- 
current testimony  of  reason  :  i.  e.  with  reverence  be  it  spoken,  God  is  not  to  be. 
believed  on  his  own  word,  unless  what  he  reveals  be  in  itself  credible,  and  might 
bo  believed  without  him. 

If  this  be  a  way  to  promote  religion,  the  Christian  religion,  in  all  its  articles,  1 
am  not  sorry  that  it  is  not  a  way  to  be  found  in  any  of  my  writings  ;  for  I  imagine 
any  thing  like  this  would  (and  1  should  think  deserved  to)  have  other  titles  thaj) 
bare  scepticism  bestowed  upon  it,  and  would  have  raised  no  small  outcry  against 
any  one,  who  is  not  to  be  supposed  to  be  in  the  right  in  all  that  he  says,  and  so 
may  securely  say  what  he  pleases.  Such  as  I,  the  profanum  vulgus,  who  take 
too  much  upon  us,  if  we  would  examine,  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  hearken  an<* 

'2d  4.m\vn'  *  ret  Jnswer 


CB.ni*]  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  3i 

is  of  use  to  us  to  discern  how  far  our  knowledge  does  reach,  for 
the  state  we  are  at  present  in,  not  being  that  of  vision,  we  must,  in 
many  things,  content  ourselves  with  faith  and  probability ;  and  in 
the  present  question,  about  the  immateriality  of  the  soul,  if  our 
faculties  cannot  arrive  at  demonstrative  certainty,  we  need  not 

believe,  though  what  he  said  should  subvert  the  very  foundations  of  the  Chris- 
tian faith. 

What  I  have  above  observed,  is  so  visibly  contained  in  your  lordship's  argu- 
ment, that  when  1  met  with  it  in  your  answer  to  my  first  letter,  it  seemed  so  strange 
for  a  man  of  your  lordship's  character,  and  in  a  dispute  in  defence  of  the  doctrine 
of  the  Trinity,  that  I  could  hardly  persuade  myself,  but  it  was  a  slip  of  your  pen ; 
but  when  I  found  it  in  your  second  letter*  made  use  of  again,  and  seriously 
enlarged  as  an  argument  of  weight  to  be  insisted  upon,  I  was  convinced  that  it  was 
a  principle  that  you  heartily  embraced,  how  little  favourable  soever  it  was  to  the 
articles  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  particularly  those  which  you  undertook  to 
defend. 

I  desire  my  reader  to  peruse  the  passages  as  they  stand  in  your  letters  them- 
selves, and  see  whether  what  you  say  in  them  does  not  amount  to  this :  that  a 
revelation  from  God  is  more  or  less  credible,  according  as  it  has  a  stronger  ov 
weaker  confirmation  from  human  reason.     For, 

1.  Your  Lordship  says,t  you  do  not  question  whether  God  can  give  immor- 
tality to  a  material  substance  ;  but  you  say  it  takes  off  very  much  from  the  evi- 
dence of  immortality,  if  it  depends  wholly  upon  God's  giving  that,  which  of  its 
own  nature  it  is  not  capable  of. 

To  which  I  reply,  any  one's  not  being  able  to  demonstrate  the  soul  to  be  imma- 
terial, takes  off  not  very  much,  nor  at  all,  from  the  evidence  of  its  immortality, 
if  God  has  revealed  that  it  shall  be  immortal :  because  the  veracity  of  God  is  a 
demonstration  of  the  truth  of  what  he  has  revealed,  and  the  want  of  another 
demonstration  of  a  proposition,  that  is  demonstratively  true,  takes  not  off  from  the 
evidence  of  it.  For  where  there  is  a  clear  demonstration,  there  is  as  much  evidence 
as  any  truth  can  have,  that  is  not  self-evident.  God  has  revealed  that  the  souls  of 
men  should  live  for  ever.  But,  says  your  lordship,  frblri  this  evidence  it  takes  off 
\ery  much,  if  it  depends  wholly  upon  God's  giving  that  which  of  its  own  nature 
it  is  not  capable  of,  i.  e.  The  revelation  and  testimony  of  God  loses  much  of  its 
evidence,  if  this  depends  wholly  upon  the  good  pleasure  of  God,  and  cannot  be 
demonstratively  made  out  by  natural  reason,  that  the  soul  is  immaterial,  and  con- 
sequently in  its  own  nature  immortal.  For  that  is  all  that  here  is  or  can  bemeant 
by  these  words,  which  of  its  own  nature  it  is  not  capable  of,  to  make  them  to  the 
purpose.  For  the  whole  of  your  lordship's  discourse  here,  is  to  prove,  that  the 
soul  cannot  be  material,  because  then  the  evidence  of  its  being  immortal  would  be 
very  much  lessened.  Which  is  to  say,  that  it  is  not  as  credible  upon  divine  reve- 
lation, that  a  material  substance  should  be  immortal,  as  an  immaterial ;  or,  which 
is  all  one,  that  God  is  not  equally  to  be  believed,  when  he  declares,  that  a  mate- 
rial substance  shall  be  immortal,  as  when  he  declares,  that  an  immaterial  shall  be 
so ;  because  the  immortality  of  a  material  substance  cannot  be  demonstrated  from 
natural  reason. 

Let  us  try  this  rule  of  your  lordship's  a  little  further.  God  hath  revealed,  thai, 
ihe  bodies  men  shall  have  after  the  resurrection,  as  well  as  their  souls,  shall  live 
10  eternity.  Does  your  lordship  believe  the  eternal  life  of  the  one  of  these  more, 
ihan  of  the  other,  because  you  think  you  can  prove  it  of  one  of  them  by  natura  t 
reason,  and  of  the  other  not  ?  Or  can  any  one,  who  admits  of  divine  revelation  in 
the  case,  doubt  of  one  of  them  more  than  the  other  ?  or  think  this  proposition  less 
■  rcdible,  that  the  bodies  of  men,  after  the  resurrection,  shall  live  for  ever;  than 
this,  that  the  souls  of  men  shall,  after  the  resurrection,  live  for  ever?  For  that; 
lie  must  do,  if  he  thinks  either  of  them  is  less  credible  than  the  other.  If  this  be. 
so,  reason  is  to  be  consulted  how  far  God  is  lobe  believed,  and  the  credit  of  divine 
•testimony  must  receive  its  force  from  the  evidence  of  reason  ;  which  is  evidently 
;o  take  away  the  credibility  of  divine  revelation  in  all  supernatural  truths, 
wherein  the  evidence  of  reason  fails.     And  how  much  such  a  principle 

■.'•!  tauwei*.  nswe 


82  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV- 

ihink  it  strange.  All  the  great  ends  of  morality  and  religion  are  well 
enough  secured,  without  philosophical  proofs  of  the  soul's  immate- 
riality; since  it  is  evident,  that  he  who  made  us  at  the  beginning  to 

tends  to  the  support  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  or  the  promoting  the  Christian 
religion,  I  shall  leave  it  to  your  lordship  to  consider. 

I  am  not  so  well  read  in  Hobbes  or  Spinosa  as  to  be  able  to  say,  what  were- 
their  opinions  in  thi-;  matter.  But  possibly  there  be  those,  who  will  think  your 
lordship's  authority  of  more  use  to  them  in  the  case,  than  those  justly  decried 
names ;  and  be  °;lad  to  find  your  lordship  a  patron  of  the  oracles  of  reason,  so- 
little  to  the  advantage  of  the  oracles  of  divine  revelation.  This,  at  least,  I  think, 
may  be  subjoined  to  the  words  at  the  bottom  of  the  next  page,*  That  those  who 
have  gone  about  to  lessen  the  credibility  of  the  articles  of  faith,  which  evidently 
they  do,  who  say  they  are  less  credible,  because  they  cannot  be  made  out  demon- 
stratively by  natural  reason,  have  not  been  thought  to  secure  several  of  the 
.iiticles  of  the  Christian  faith,  especially  those  of  the  Trinity,  incarnation,  and 
resurrection  of  the  body,  which  are  those  upon  the  account  of  which  I  am  brought 
by  your  lordship  into  this  dispute. 

I  shall  not  trouble  the  reader  with  your  lordship's  endeavours,  in  the  following 
words,  to  prove,  that  if  the  soul  be  not  an  immaterial  substance,  it  can  be  nothing 
but  life  ;  your  very  first  words  visibly  confuting  all  that  you  allege  to  that  pur- 
pose :  they  are,t  If  the  soul  be  a  material  substance,  it  is  really  nothing  but  life  ; 
which  is  to  say,  That  if  the  soul  be  really  a  substance,  it  is  not  really  a  substance, 
but  really  nothing  else  but  an  affection  of  a  substance  ;  for  the  life,  whether 
of  a  material  or  immaterial  substance,  is  not  the  substance  itself,  but  an  affection 
of  it. 

2.  You  say 4  Although  we  think  the  separate  state  of  the  soul  after  death  is 
sufficiently  revealed  in  the  Scripture  ;  yet  it  creates  a  great  difficulty  in  under- 
standing it,  if  the  soul  be  nothing  but  life,  or  a  material  substance,  which  must  be 
dissolved  when  life  is  ended.  For,  if  the  soul  be  a  material  substance,  it  must  be 
made  up,  as  others  are,  of  the  cohesion  of  solid  and  separate  parts,  how  minute 
and  invisible  soever  they  be.  And  what  is  it  which  should  keep  them  together, 
when  life  is  gone  ?  So  that  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  give  an  account  how  the  soul 
should  be  capable  of  immortality,  unless  it  be  an  immaterial  substance  ;  and  then 
we  know  the  solution  and  texture  of  bodies  cannot  reach  the  soul,  being  of  a  dif- 
ferent nature. 

Let  it  be  as  hard  a  matter  as  it  will,  to  give  an  account  what  it  is  that  should 
keep  the  parts  of  a  material  soul  together,  after  it  is  separated  from  the  body ; 
yet  it  will  be  always  as  easy  to  give  an  account  of  it,  as  to  give  an  account 
what  it  is  which  shall  keep  together  a  material  and  immaterial  substance.  And 
yet  the  difficulty  that  there  is  to  give  an  account  of  that,  I  hope  does  not,  with 
your  lordship,  weaken  the  credibility  of  the  inseparable  union  of  soul  and  body 
to  eternity  :  and  1  persuade  myself,  that  the  men  of  sense,  to  whom  your  lordship 
appeals  in  the  case,  do  not  find  their  belief  of  this  fundamental  point  much  weak- 
ened by  that  difficulty.  I  thought  heretofore  (and  by  your  lordship's  permission 
would  think  so  still)  that  the  union  of  the  parts  of  matter,  one  with  another,  is  as 
much  in  the  hands  of  God,  as  the  union  of  a  material  and  immaterial  substance  ; 
and  that  it  does  not  take  off  very  much,  or  at  all,  from  the  evidence  of  immortal  it  v. 
which  depends  on  that  union,  that  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  give  an  account  what  it 
is  that  should  keep  together :  though  its  depending  wholly  upon  the  gift  and  good 
pleasure  of  God,  where  the  manner  creates  great  difficulty  in  the  understanding, 
;uul  our  reason  cannot  discover  in  the  nature  of  things  how  it  is,  be  that  which 
your  lordship  so  positively  says,  lessens  the  credibility  of  the  fundamental  articles 
of  the  resurrection  and  immortality. 

But,  my  lord,  to  remove  this  objection  a  little,  and  to  show  of  how  small  a  force 
it  is  even  with  yourself;  give  me  leave  to  presume,  that  your  lordship  as  firmly 
believes  the  immortality  of  the  body  after  the  resurrection,  as  any  other  article  of 
faith;  if  so,  then  it  being  no  easy  matter  to  give  an  account  what  it  is  that  shall 
keep  together  the  parts  of  a  material  soul,  to  one  that  believes  it  is  material, 
can  no  more  weaken  the  credibility  of  its  immortality,  than  the  like  difficulty 
weakens  the  credibility  of  the  immortality  of  the  body.  For,  when  your  lordship 

*  fst  Answer,  Ibid  "  IWd. 


GK.  III.J  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  XNuv\  LEDOE.  3-> 

subsist  hero,  sensible  intelligent  beings,  and  for  several  years  con- 
tinued us  in  such  a  state,  can  and  will  restore  lis  to  the  like  state  ot 
sensibility  in  another  world,  and  make  us  capable  there  to  receive 

shall  find  it  an  easy  matter  to  give  an  account  what  it  is,  besides  the  good  pleasure 
of  Clod,  which  shall  keep  together  the  parts  of  our  material  bodies  to  eternity,  or 
even  soul  and  body,  I  doubt  not  but  any  one  who  shall  think  the  sold  material, 
will  also  find  it  as  easy  to  give  an  account  what  it  is  that  shall  keep  those  parts  ot' 
matter  also  together  to  eternity. 

Were  it  not  that  the  warmth  of  controversy  is  apt  to  make  men  so  far  forget,  as 
to  take  up  those  principles  themselves  (when  they  will  serve  their  turn)  which. 
they  have  highly  condemned  in  others,  1  should  wonder  to  find  your  lordship  to 
argue,  that  because  it  is  a  difficulty  to  understand  what  shall  keep  together  the 
minute  parts  of  a  material  soul,  when  life  is  gone  ;  and  because  it  is  not  an  easy 
matter  to  give  an  account  how  the  soul  shall  be  capable  of  immortality,  unless  it  be 
an  immaterial  substance  :  therefore  it  is  not  credible,  as  if  it  were  easy  to  give  an 
account,  by  natural  reason,  how  it  could  be.  For  to  this  it  is  that  ail  this  your 
discourse  tends,  as  is  evident  by  what  is  already  set  down  ;  and  will  be  moro 
fully  made  out  by  what  your  lordship  says  in  other  places,  though  there  needs  no 
such  proof,  since  it  would  all  be  nothing  against  me  in  any  other  sense. 

I  thought  your  lordship  had  in  other  places  assented,  and  insisted  on  this  truth, 
that  no  part  of  divine  revelation  was  the  less  to  be  believed,  because  the  thing 
itself  created  great  difficulty  in  the  understanding,  and  the  manner  of  it  was  hard 
to  be  explained,  and  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  give  an  account  how  it  was.  This, 
as  I  take  it,  your  lordship  condemned  in  others  as  a  very  unreasonable  principle, 
and  such  as  would  subvert  all  the  articles  of  the  Christian  religion,  that  were  meru 
matters  of  faith,  as  I  think  it  will :  and  is  it  possible,  that  you  should  make  use 
of  it  here  yourself,  against  the  article  of  life  and  immortality,  that  Christ  hath 
brought  to  light  through  the  gospel,  and  neither  was  nor  could  be  made  out  by 
natural  reason  without  revelation  ?  But  you  will  say,  you  speak  only  of  the  soul ; 
and  your  words  are,  That  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  give  an  account  how  the  soul 
Should  be  capable  of  immortality,  unless  it  be  an  immaterial  substance.  I  grant 
it ;  but  <-rave  leave  to  say,  that  there  is  not  any  one  of  those  difficulties,  that  am 
or  can  he  raised  about  the  manner  how  a  material  soul  can  be  immortal,  v/hu'i 
do  not  as  well  reach  the  immortality  of  the  body. 

But,  if  it  were  not  so,  I  am  sure  this  principle  of  your  lordship's  would  reach 
other  articles  of  faith,  wherein  ou?  na'tural  reason  finds  it  not  so  easy  to  give  an 
account  how  those  mysteries  are  ;  and  which,  therefore,  according  to  your  princi- 
ples, must  be  less  credible  than  other  articles,  that  create  less  difficulty  to  the 
mderstanding.  For  your  lordship  says,*  that-yon  appeal  to  any  man  of  sens'/ 
whether  a  man  thought  by  his  principles  he  could  from  natural  grounds  demon- 
strate the  immortality  of  the  soul,  the  finding  the  uncertainty  oi'  loose  principles 
he  went  upon  in  point  of  reason,  i.  e.  the  finding  lie  could  not  certainly  prove 
it  by  natural  reason,  doth  not  weaken  the  credibility  of  that  fundamental  article, 
when  it  is  considered  purely  as  a  matter  of  faith  ?  which,  in  effect,  1  humbl 
»eive,  amounts  to  this,  that  a  proposition  divinely  revealed,  that  cannot  he  proved 
by  natural  reason,  is  less  credible  than  one  that  can  :  which  seems  to  me  to  come 
very  little  short  of  this,  with  due  reverence  be  il  spoken,  that  God  is  less  to  be 
believed  when  he  affirms  a  proposition  that  cannot  be  proved,  by  natural  reason, 
than  when  he  proposes  what  can  be  proved  by  it.  The  direct  contrary  to  which 
is  tny  opinion,  though  you  endeavour  to  make  it  good  by  these  following  words  :t 
if  the  evidence  of  faith  tall  so  inn. !,  shorl  of  thai  of  rea  on,  it  must  needs  have 

effect    upon  men's  minds,  when  the  subserviency  of  reason  is  taken 
:is  it  must  be  when  the  ground  !  of    ■-  ,  tainty  by  reason  are  vanished.     Is  it  at  all 
probable,  that  he  who  finds  his  reason  deceive  him  in  such  fundamental  pojhtss 
should  have  his  faith  stand  firm  and  immoveable  on  the  account   of  revelation? 
Thau  which  1  think  there  are  hardly  plainer  words  to  be  found  out  to   I 
the.  credibility  of  God's  testimony  depends  on  the  natural  .  probability 

of  the  things  we  receive  from  r<  relation,  and  rises  and  falls  with  it,  and  that  the 
i ruths  of  Cod,  or  the  articles  of  mere  faith,  lose  so  much  of  their  credibility,  as 
they  want  prool  from  reason  :  which,  if  true,  revelation  may  ■  ometo  have  no  cre- 
dibility at  all,  For  if,  in  this  present  case,  the  credibility  of  this  proposition,  th< 
of  men  shall  live  for  ever,  revealed  in  tile  Scripture,  be  le 

*3(1  A-  '  th?<l, 


o4  EXTENT  Oi'  HUMAN  KNOWLEJjOi..  (_BOOK  IV- 

the  retribution  he  has  designed  to  men,  according  to  their  doings 
in  this  life.  And  therefore  it  is  not  of  such  mighty  necessity  to 
determine  one  way  or  the  other,  as  some,   over-zealous  for 

lag  it  cannot  be  demonstratively  proved  from  reason  ;  though  it  be  asserted  to  be 
most  highly  probable  :  must  not,  by  the  ;sanie  rule,  its  credibility  dwindle  away 
io  nothing,  if  natural  reason  should  not  be  able  to  make  it  out  to  be  so  much  as 
probable,  or  should  place  the  probability  from  natural  principles  on  the  other 
side?  For,  if  mere  want  of  demonstration  lessens  the  credibility  of  any  propo- 
sition divinely  revealed,  must  not  want  of  probability,  or  contrary  probability 
from  natural  reason,  quite  take  away  its  credibility  ?  Here  at  last  it  must  end. 
if  in  any  one  ca3e  the  veracity  of  God,  and  the  credibility  of  the  truths  we  receive 
from  him  by  revelation,  be  subjected  to  the  verdicts  of  human  reason,  and  be 
allowed  to  receive  any  accession  or  diminution  from  other  proofs,  or  want  of  other 
proofs,  of  its  certainty  or  probability. 

If  this  be  your  lordship's  way  to  promote  religion,  or  defend  its  articles,  I  know 
not  what  argument  the  greatest  enemies  of  it  could  use  more  effectual  for  the 
subversion  of  those  you  have  undertaken  to  defend;  this  being  to  resolve  alt 
i-evelation  perfectly  and  purely  into  natural  reason,  to  bound  its  credibility  by  that . 
and  leave  no  room  for  faith  in  other  things,  than  what  can  be  accounted  for  by 
natural  reason  without  revelation. 

Your  lordship  *  insists  much  upon  it,  as  if  I  had  contradicted  what  I  have  said 
in  my  essay,  by  saying  t  that  upon  my  principles  it  cannot  be  demonstratively 
proved,  that  it  is  an  immaterial  substance  in  us  that  thinks,  however  probable  it 
be.  He  that  will  be  at  the  pains  to  read  that  chapter  of  mine,  and  consider  it, 
will  find,  that  my  business  was  there  to  show,  that  it  was  no  harder  to  conceive  an 
immaterial  than  a  material  substance  ;  and  that  from  the  ideas  of  thought,  and 
a  power  of  moving  of  matter,  which  we  experienced  in  ourselves,  (ideas  origi- 
nally not  belonging  to  the  matter  as  matter)  there  was  no  more  difficulty  to 
conclude  there  was  an  immaterial  substance  in  us,  than  that  we  had  material  parts. 
These  ideas  of  thinking,  and  power  of  moving  of  matter,  I  in  another  place 
showed,  did  demonstratively  lead  us  to  certain  knowledge  of  the  existence  of  an 
immaterial  thinking  being,  in  whom  we  have  the  idea  of  spirit  in  the  strictest 
sense  ;  in  which  sense  I  also  applied  it  to  the  soul,  in  the  23d  ch.  of  my  essay  ; 
the  easily  conceivable  possibility,  nay,  great  probability,  that  the  thinking  sub- 
tance  in  us  is  immaterial,  giving  me  sufficient  ground  for  it:  in  which  sense  J 
shall  think  I  may  safely  attribute  it  to  the  thinking  substance  in  us,  till  your  lord- 
ship shall  have  better  proved  from  my  words,  that  it  is  impossible  it  should  be  im- 
material. For  I  only  say,  that  it  is  possible,  i.  r.  involves  no  contradiction,  that 
God,  the  omnipotent  immaterial  spirit,  should,  if  he  pleases,  give  to  some  parcel? 
of  matter,  disposed  as  he  thinks  fit,  a  power  of  thinking  and  moving ;  which  par  - 
(•els  of  matter,  so  endued  with  a  power  of  thinking  and  motion,  might  properly 
be  called  spirits,  in  contradistinction  to  unthinking  matter.  In  all  which,  I  pre- 
sume, there  is  no  manner  of  contradiction. 

I  justified  my  use  of  the  word  spirit,  in  that  sense,  from  the  authorities  of  Cicero 
and  Virgil,  applying  the  Latin  word  spiritus,  from  whence  spirit  is  derived,  to  the 
soul  as  a  thinking  thing,  without  excluding  materiality  out  of  it.  Tq  which  your 
lordship  replies,  t  That  Cicero,  in   his  Tusculan  Questions,  supposes   the  soul 

not  to  be  a  finer  sort  of  body,  but  of  a  different  nature  from  the  body That  he 

<"all3  the  body  the  prison  of  the  soul And  says,  that  a  wise  man's  business  is 

to  draw  off  his  soul  from  his  body.  And  then  your  lordship  concludes,  as  is 
usual,  with  a  question,  Is  it  possible  now  to  think  so  great  a  man  looked  on  the 
soul  but  as  a  modification  of  the  body,  which  must  be  a1  an  end  ivifli  life  ?  An-=, 
No  ;  itis  impossible  that  a  man  ot'so  good  soa::e  as  'fully,  when  he  uses  the  won' 
corpus  or  body  for  the  gross  and  visible  parts  of  a  man,  which  he  acknowledges  to 
be  mortal,  should  look  on  the  soul  to  be  a  modification  of  that  body,  in  a  discourse 
•wherein  he  was  endeavouring  to  persuade  another  that  it  was  immortal.  It  is  t<^ 
be  acknowledged  that  truly  great  men,  such  as  he  was,  are  not  wont  so  manifestly 
to  contradict  themselves.  He  had  therefore  no  thought  concerning  the  modifi- 
ation  of  the  body  of  a  man  in  the  case  :  he  was  not  such  atrifler  as  to  examine, 
whether  the  modification  of  the  bo  ly  of  a  man  vi  as  immortal,  whoa  that  bod; 
i  wrasmortal:  and  therefore,  tbat  which  he  reports  as  Dicaearchus^  opinion,  hr 

*■  I     An  •  - 


GH.  HI.]  EXTENT  OP  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  0i> 

or  against  the  immateriality  of  the  soul,  have  been  forward  to 
make  the  world  believe.  Who,  either  on  the  one  side,  indulging 
too  much  their  thoughts  immersed  altogether  in  matter,  can  allow 

dismisses  in  the  beginning  without  any  more  ado,  c.  11.  But  Cicero's  was  a  direct, 
plain,  and  sensible  inquiry,  viz.  What  the  soul  was  ?  to  see  whether  from  thence 
he  could  discover  its  immortality.  But  in  all  that  discourse  in  his  first  book  of 
Tusculan  Questions,  where  he  lays  out  so  much  of  his  reading  and  reason,  there 
's  not  one  syllable  showing  the  least  thought  that  the  soul  was  an  immaterial  sub- 
stance ;  but  many  things  directly  to  the  contrary. 

Indeed,  Uie  shuts  out  the  body,  taken  in  the  senses  he  uses  corpus  all  along,* 
for  the  sensible  organical  parts  of  a  man  ;  and  is  positive  that  is  not  the  soul :  and 
body  in  this  sense,  taken  for  the  human  body,  he  calls  the  prison  of  the  soul :  and 
says  a  wise  man,  instancing  in  Socrates  and  Cato,  is  glad  of  a  fair  opportunity  to 
get  out  of  it.  Hut  he  nowhere  says  any  such  thing  of  matter  :  he  calls  not 
matter  in  general  the  prison  of  the  soul,  nor  talks  a  word  of  being  separate  from  it. 

2.  He  concludes  that  the  soul  is  not,  like  other  things  here  below,  made  up  of  a 
•  omposition  of  the  elements,  c.  27. 

3.  He  excludes  the  two  gross  elements,  earth  and  water,  from  being  the  sou!. 
o.26. 

So  far  he  is  clear  and  positive  :  but  beyond  this  he  is  uncertain  ;  beyond  tins  he 
<:ould  not  get  :  for  in  some  places  he  speaks  doubtfully,  whether  the  soul  be  not. 
air  or  fire.  Anima  sit  animus,  ignisve,  nescio,  c.  25.  And  therefore  he  agrees 
with  Panaatius,  that  if  it  be  at  all  elementary,  it  is,  as  he  calls  it,  inflammata  anima, 
inflamed  air  ;  and  for  this  he  gives  several  reasons,  c.  18,  19.  And  though  he. 
thinks  it  to  be  of  a  peculiar  nature  of  its  own,  yet  he  is  so  far  from  thinking  it  im- 
material, that  he  says,  c.  19,  that  the  admitting  it  to  be  of  an  aerial  or  igneous 
nature  will  not  be  inconsistent  with  any  thin°-  he  had  said. 

That  which  he  seems  most  to  incline  to  is,  that  the  soul  was  not  at  all  elemen- 
tary, but  was  of  the  same  substance  with  the  heavens ;  which  Aristotle,  to  distin- 
guish from  the  four  elements,  and  the  changeable  bodies  here  belbw,  which  he 
supposed  made  up  of  them,  culled  quinta  essentia.  That  this  was  Tally's 
opinion  is  plain  from  these  words,  Ergo  animus  (qui,  ut  ego  dico,  divinus)  est,  ut 
Euripides  audet  dicere,  Deus ;  etquidem,si  Deus  aut  anima  aut  ignis  est,  idem  est 
animus  hominis.  Nam  ut  ilia  natura  crelestis  et  terra  vacat  et  huinore ;  sic 
utriusque  harum  rerum  humanus  animus  est  expers.  Sin  autem  est  quinta 
cjuxdam natura  ab  Aristotele  inducta;  primum  haec  et  deorum  est  et  animorum. 
Hanc  nos  sententiam  secuti,  his  ipsis  verbis  in  consolatione  hsec  expressimus,  ch. 
29.  And  then  he  goes  on,  c.  27.  to  repeat  those  his  own  words,  which  your  lord- 
ship has  quoted  out  of  him,  wherein  he  had  affirmed,  in  his  treatise  De  Consola- 
iione,  the  soul  not  to  have  its  original  from  the  earth,  or  to  be  mixed  or  made  of 
any  thing  earthly  ;  but  had  said  singularis  est  igitur  quaedam  natura  et  vis  animi, 
sejuncta  abhis  usitatis  notisque  naturis  :  whereby  he  tells  us,  he  meant  nothing 
But  Aristotle's  quanta  essentia :  which  being  unmixed,  being  that  of  which  the 
gods  and  souls  consisted,  lie  calls  it  divinuni  rasleste,  and  concludes  it  eternal ;  it 
being, as  he  speaks,  sejuncta  ab  omni  mortali  concretione.  From  which  it  is  clear. 
that  in  all  his  inquiry  about  the  substance  of  the  soul,  his  thoughts  went  notbe- 
yood  the  four  elements,  or  Aristotle's  quinta  essentia,  to  look  for  it.  In  all  which 
there  is  nothing  of  immateriality,  but  quite  the  contrary. 

He  was  willing  to  believe  (as  good  and  wise  men  have  always  been)  that  the 
soul  was  immortal ;  but  for  that,  it  is  plain,  he  never  thought  of  its  immateriality 
but  as  the  eastern  people  do,  who  believe  the  soul  to  be  immortal,  but  have 
nevertheless  no  thought,  no  conception  of  its  immateriality.  It  is  remarkable 
what  a  very  considerable  and  judicious  author  says  in  the  case.t  No  opinion, 
says  he,  lias  been  so  universally' received  as  that  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul;  but. 
its  immateriality  is  a  truth,  the  knowledge  whereof  has  not  spread  so  far.  And 
ideed  it  is  extremi  ly  difficult  to  let  into  the  mind  of  a  Siamitethe  idea  of  apuro 
spirit.  This  the  missionaries  who  hav<  been  longest  among  them  arc  positive  in 
All  the  pagans  of  the  east  do  truly  believe,  that  there  remains  something  of  a 
man  alter  his  death,  which  subsists  independently  ami  separately  from  bis  tody 
Kut  they  give  extension  and  figure  to  thai  which  remaius.and  attribute  to  it  all  the 

c,t  1!' '  V1  *  f  Lou'jere  du  Koyaarae  de  Siam,  T.  !.  c.  13.  §.  1 

V0L.  If,  1? 


SG  EXTENT  0F  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  [bOOKIV. 

no  existence  to  what  is  not  material :  or  who,  on  the  other 
side,  finding  not  cogitation  within  the  natural  powers  of  matter, 
examined  over  and  over  again  by  the  utmost  intention  of  mind, 

same  members,  all  the  same  substances,  both  solid  and  liquid,  which  our  bodies 
are  composed  oi'.  They  only  suppose  that  the  souls  are  of  a  matter  subtile  enough 
to  escape  being  seen  or  handled. — Such  were  the  shades  and  manes  of  the  Greeks 
and  the  Romans.  And  it  is  by  these  figures  of  the  souls,  answerable  to  those  of 
the  bodies,  that  Virgil  supposed  TEneas  knew  Palinurus,  Dido,  and  Anchises,  hi 
the  other  world. 

This  gentleman  was  not  a  man  that  travelled  into  those  parts  for  his  pleasure, 
and  to  have  the  opportunity  to  tell  strange  stories,  collected  by  chance,  when  he 
returned:  but  one  chosen  on  purpose  (and  he  seems  well  chosen  for  the  purpose)  to 
inquire  into  the  singularities  of  Siain.  And  he  has  so  well  acquitted  himself  of  the 
commission,  which  his  epistle  dedicatory  tells  us  he  had,  to  inform  himself  exactly 
<>f  what  was  most  remarkable  there,  that  had  we  but  such  an  account  of  other 
countries  of  the  east  as  he  has  given  us  of  this  kingdom,  which  he  was  an  envoy 
to,  we  should  be  much  better  acquainted  than  we  are  with  the  manner?,  notions, 
and  religions  of  that  part  of  the  world  inhabited  by  civilized  nations,  who  want 
neither  good  scn«c  nor  acuteness  of  reason,  though  not  cast  into  the  mould  of  the 
logic  and  philosophy  of  our  schools. 

But  to  return  to  Cicero  :  it  is  plain,  that  in  his  inquiries  about  the  soul,  his 
thoughts  went  not  at  all  beyond  matter.  This  the  expressions  that  drop  from  him 
in  Several  places  of  this  book  evidently  show.  For  example,  that  the  souls  of 
excellent  men  and  women  ascended  into  heaven  ;  of  others,  that  they  remained 
here  on  earth,  c.  12.  That  the  soul  is  hot,  and  warms  the  body  :  that,  at  its  leav- 
ing the  body,  it  penetrates,  and  divides,  and  breaks  through  our  thick,  cloudy, 
moist  air  :  that  it  stops  in  the  region  of  fire,  and  ascends  no  farther ;  the  equality 
of  warmth  and  weight  making  that  its  proper  place,  where  it  is  nourished  and 
sustained,  with  the  same  things  wherewith  the  stars  are  nourished  and  sustained  ; 
and  that  by  the  convenience  of  its  neighbourhood,  it  shall  there  have  a  clearer 
view  and  fuller  knowledge  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  c.  19.  That  the  soul  also 
from  this  height  shall  have  a  pleasant  and  fairer  prospect  of  the  globe  of  the 
earth,  the  disposition  of  whose  parts  will  then  lie  before  it  in  one  view,  c.  20. 
That  it  is  hard  to  determine  what  conformation,  size,  and  place,  the  soul  has  in  the 
boxly  :  that  it  is  too  subtile  to  be  seen  :  that  it  is  in  the  human  body  as  in  a  house, 
or  a  vessel,  or  a  receptacle,  c.  22.  All  which  are  expressions  that  stirneiently  evi  • 
dfnee  that  he  who  used  them  had  not  in  his  mind  separated  materiality  from  the 
idea  of  the  soul. 

it  may  perhaps  be  replied,  that  a  great  part  of  this  which  we  find  in  chap.  If. 
is  said  upon  the  principles  of  those  who  would  have  the  soul  to  beanima  inflam- 
mata,  intlamed  air.  I  grant  it.  But  it  is  also  to  be  observed,  that  in  this  19th. 
mid  the  two  following  chapters,  lie  does  not  only  not  deny,  but  even  admits,  tha^ 
so  material  a  thing  as  intlamed  air  may  think. 

The  truth  of  the  case  in  short  is  this  :  Cicero  was  willing  to  believe  the  soul  im- 
mortal ;  but  whenhe  soughtin  the  nature  of  the  soul  itself  something  to  establish 
this  his  belief  in  a  certainty  of  it,  he  found  himself  at  a  loss,  lie  confessed  he 
knew  not  what  the  soul  was  ;  but  the  not  knowing  what  it  was,  he  argues,  c.  22. 
was  no  reason  to  conclude  it  was  not.  And  thereupon  he  proceeds  to  the  repeti- 
tion of  what  he  had  said  in  his  Cth  book,  De  Rcpub.  concerning  the  soul.  The 
argument,  which,  borrowed  from  Plato,  he  there  makes  use  of,  if  it  have  any  force 
?n  it,  not  only  proves  the  soul  to  lie  immortal,  but  more  than,  I  think,  your  lord- 
ship will  allow  to  be  true  ;  for  it  proves  it  to  be  eternal  and  without  beginning,  as 
well  as  without  end  :  Neque  nata  eerte  est,  et  a5lernaest,  says  he. 

Indeed,  from  the  faculties  of  the  soul  he  concludes  right,  that  it  is  of  divine. 
original :  but  as  to  the  substance  of  the  soul,  he  at  the  end  of  this  discourse  con- 
rrmin<T  its  faculties,  c.  25,  as  well  as  at  this  beginning  of  it,  c.  22,  is  not  ashamed 
to  own  his  ignorance  of  what  it  is ;  Anima  sit  animus,  ignisve,  uescio ;  nee  ine 
pudet,  lit  istos,  fatcri  nescire  quod  nesciam.  Illud  si  ulla  alia  de  re  obscura 
alfirmare  possem,  sive  anima,  sive  ignis  sit  animus,  eum  jurarem  esse  divinum,  c. 
25.  So  that  all  the  certainty  he  could  attain  to  about  the  soul  was  that  he  was 
confident  there  was  something  divine  in  it,  i.  e.  there  were  faculties  in  the  soul  thai 
could  not  result  from  the  nature  of  matter,  but  must  have  their  original  from  a 
tlftine  power ;  bul  yetthosfe  qualities,as  divineastheywere.be  acknowledged 


■  U.  III.]  EXTENT  OP  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  87 

have  the  confidence  to  conclude,  that  omnipotency  itself  cannot 
give  perception  and  thought  to  a  substance  which  has  the  mo- 
dification  of  solidity.     I  le  that  considers  how  hardly  sensation  is, 

might  be  placed  in  breath  or  fire,  which,  I  think,  your  lordship  will  not  deny  to 
be  material  substances.  So  that  all  those  divine  qualities, which  he  so  much  and 
so  justly  extols  in  the  soul,  led  him  not,  as  appears,  so  much  as  to  any  the  least 
thought  of  immateriality.  This  is  demonstration,  thai  he  built  themnot  upon  ati 
exclusion  of  materiality  out  of  the  soul;  for  he  avowedly  professes  he  does  not 
know  but  breath  or  fire  might  be  this  thinking  thing  in  us :  and  in  all  his  eon- 
iileiations  about  the  substance  of  the. soul  itself,  he  stuck  in  air  or  fire,  or  Aris- 
totle's qninta  essentia  ;  for  beyond  those  it  is  evident  he  went  not. 

Hut  with  all  his  proofs  out  of  I'lato.  to  whose  authority  be  defers  so  much,  with 
all  the  arguments  his  vast  reading  and  great  parts  could  furnish  him  with  for  the 
immortality  of  the  soul,  he  was  so  little  satisfied,  so  far  from  being  certain,  so  far 
from  any  thought  that  he  had,  or  could  prove  it,  that  he  over  and  over  ngain  pro- 
fesses his  ignorance  and  doubt  of  it.  In  the  beginning  he  enumerates  the  several 
opinions  of  the  philosophers,  which  he  had  well  studied,  about  it  :  and  then,  full 
of  uncertainty,  says,  Harum  senteutiarum  qua;  vera  sit,  Deus  aliquis  viderit  ; 
quae  verisimillima,  magna  quscstio,  c.  11.  And  towards  the  latter  end,  having 
gone  them  all  over  again,  and  one  after  another  examined  them,  he  professes  him- 
self still  at  a  loss,  not  knowing  on  which  to  pitch,  nor  what  to  determine.  Mentis 
ucies,  says  he,  seipsam,  intuens,  nonnunquam  hebescit,  ob  eamque  causum  con- 
tcmplandi  diligentiam  amittimus.  Itaque  dubitans,  circumspectans,  haasitans, 
multa  adversa  revertens,  tanquam  in  rate  in  mari  immenso,  nostra vehitur  oratio, 
c.  30.  And  to  conclude  this  argument,  when  the  person  he  introduces  as  dis- 
coursing with  him  tells  him  he  is  resolved  to  keep  firm  to  Ihe  belief  of  immor- 
tality; Tully  answers,  c.  32,  Laudo  id  quidem,elsii  nihil  animisoportetconfidere  : 
movemur  enim  saepe  aliquo  acute  concluso  ;  labamus,  mutamusque  sententiam 
clarioribus  etiam  in  rebus;  in  his  est  auim  aliqua  obscuritas. 

So  unmoveable  is  that  truth  delivered  by  the  Spirit  of  truth,  that  though  the 
light  of  nature  gave  some  obscure  glimmering,  some  uncertain  hopes  of  a  future 
state  ;  yet  human  reason  could  attain  to  no  clearness,  no  certainty  about  it,  but. 
that  it  was  Jesus  Christ  alone  who  had  brought  life  and  immortality  to  light 
through  the  gospel.4  Though  we  are  now  told,  that  to  own  the  inability  of  natu- 
ral reason  to  bring  immortality  to  light,  or,  which  pusses  for  the  same,  to  own  prin- 
ciples Upon  which  the  immateriality  of  the  soul  (and,  as  it  is  urged,  consequently 
its  immortality)  cannot  be  demonstratively  proved,  does  lessen  the  belief  of  this 
article  of  revelation,  which  Jesus  Christ  alone  has  brought  to  light,  and 
which  consequently  the  Scripture  assures  us  is  established  and  made  certain  only 
by  revelation.  This  would  not  perhaps  have  seemed  strange,  from  those  who  arc 
justly  complained  of  for  slighting  the  revelation  of  the  gospel,  and  therefore  would 
not  be  much  regarded,  if  they  should  contradict  so  plain  a  text  of  Scripture,  Lu 
favour  of  their  all-sufficient  reason  :  but  what  use  the  promoters  of  scepticism  and 
infidelity,  in  an  age  so  much  suspected  by  your  lordship,  may  make  of  what  come; 
from  one  of  your  great  authority  and  learning,  may  deserve  your  consideration. 
And  thus,  my  lord,  I  hope,  I  have  satisfied  you  concerning  Cicero's  opinion  about 
the  soul,  in  his  first  book  of  Tusculan  Questions  :  which  though  I  easily  believe, 
as  your  lordship  says,  you  are  no  stranger  to,  yet  1  humbly  conceive  you  have  not 
shoWn  (and,  upon  a  careful  perusal  of  that  treatise  again,  1  think  J  may  boldly  say 
j  ou  cannot  show)  one  word  in  it,  that  expresses  any  tiling  like  a  notion  in  Tully  t>t' 
the  soul's  immateriality,  or  its  being  an  immaterial  substance. 

From  what  you  bring  out  of  Virgil,  your  Lordship  concludes,!  That  he,  no  more 
than  Cicero, does  me  any  kindness  in  this  matter,  being  both  assertorsof  the  soul's, 
immortality.  My  lord,  were  not  the  question  of  the  soul's  immateriality,  according 
to  custom,  changed  here  into  that  of  its  immortality,  which  I  am  no  less  an  asser- 
lor  of  than  either  of  them,  Cicero  and  Virgil  dp  me  all  the  kindness  1  desired  ot 
them  in  this  mutter:  and  that  was  to  show,  that  they  attributed  the  word  spiritus 
to  the  soul  of  man  without  any  thought  of  its  immateriality  ;  and  this  the  verses 
f  bring  out  of  Virgil,:}: 

l-'.l  cum  frigida  morsanima  seduxerit  artus, 
Omnibus  umbra  locisadero;  dabis  improhe,  poeuas ; 

i.  10  •  '■(  answei  '  iEncid  L385. 


oo  LX-TENT  OF   HLMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK    !V< 

in  our  thoughts,  reconcileable  to  extended  matter  \  or  existence 
to  any  thing  that  hath  no  extension  at  all  5  will  confess,  that  he  is 
very  far  from  certainly  knowing  what  his  soul  is.     It  is  a  point 

confirm,  as  well  as  those  I  quoted  out  of  his  6th  book;  and  for  this  Monsieur  de 
la  Loubcre  shall  be  my  witness  in  the  words  above  set  down  out  of  him ;  where 
he  shows  that  there  be  those  among  the  heathens  of  our  days,  as  well  a3  Virgil  and 
others  among  the  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans,  who  thought  the  souls  or  ghosts  of 
men  departed  did  not  die  with  the  body,  without  thinking  them  to  be  perfectly 
immaterial;  the  latter  being  much  more  incomprehensible  to  them  than  the 
former.  And  what  Virgil's  notion  of  the  soul  is,  and  that  corpus,  when  put  in 
contradistinction  to  the  soul,  signifies  nothing  but  the  gross  tenement  of  flesh  and 
bones,  is  evident  from  this  verse  of  his  iEneid  vi.  where  he  calls  the  souls  which 
yet  were  visible, 

■ Tenues  sine  corpore  vitas. 

Your  lordship's*  answer  concerning  what  is  said  in  Eccles.  xii.  turns  wholly 
upon  Solomon's  taking  the  soul  to  be  immortal,  whieh  was  not  what  I  questioned : 
all  that  I  quoted  that  place  for,  was  to  show,  that  spirit  in  English  might  properly 
he  applied  to  the  soul,  without  any  notion  of  its  immateriality,  as  r-m  was  by 
Solomon,  which,  whether  he  thought  the  souls  of  men  be  immaterial,  does  little 
appear  in  that  passage,  where  he  speaks  of  the  souls  of  men  and  beasts  together 
as  he  does.  But  farther,  what  I  contended  for  is  evident  from  that  place,  in  that 
the  word  spirit  is  there  applied  by  our  translators,  to  the  souls  of  beasts,  which 
your  lordship,  I  think,  does  not  rank  among  the  immaterial,  and  consequently  im- 
mortal spirits,  though  they  have  sense  and  spontaneous  motion. 

But  you  say,  t  If  the  soul  be  not  of  itself  a  free  thinking  substance,  you  do  noi 
s.ee  what  foundation  there  is  in  nature  for  a  day  of  judgment.  Answer,  Though 
the  heathen  world  did  not  of  old,  nor  do  to  this  day,  see  a  foundation  in  nature  for 
a  day  of  judgment;  yet  in  revelation,  if  that  will  satisfy  your  lordship,  every  one 
may  see  a  foundation  for  a  day  of  judgment,  because  God  has  positively  declared 
it ;  though  God  has  not  by  that  revelation  taught  us,  what  the  substance  of  the 
soul  is ;  nor  has  any  where  said,  that  the  soul  of  itself  is  a  free  agent.  Whatso- 
ever any  created  substance  is,  it  is  not  of  itself,  but  is  by  the  good  pleasure  of  its 
Creator  :  whatever  degrees  of  perfection  it  has,  it  has  from  the  bountiful  hand  of 
its  Maker.  For  it  is  true  in  a  natural,  as  well  as  a  spiritual  sense,  what  St.  Paul 
.^ays,^:  Not  that  we  are  sufficient  of  ourselves  to  think  any  thing  as  of  ourselves, 
but  our  sufficiency  is  of  God. 

But  your  lordship,  as  I  guess  by  your  following  words,  would  argue  that  a 
material  substance  cannot  be  a  free  agent :  whereby  I  suppose  you  only  mean, 
that  you  cannot  see  or  conceive  how  a  solid  substance  should  begin,  stop,  or 
change  its  own  motion.  To  which  give  me  leave  to  answer,  that  when  you 
can  make  it  conceivable,  how  any  created,  finite,  dependent  substance  can  move 
itself,  or  alter  or  stop  its  own  motion,  which  it  must  to  be  a  free  agent ;  I  suppose 
you  will  find  it  no  harder  for  God  to  bestow  this  power  on  a  solid  than  an  unsolid 
created  substance.  Tully,  in  the  place  above  quoted, J  could  not  conceive  tlm 
power  to  be  in  any  thing  but  what  was  from  eternity  ;  Cum  pateat  igitur  ster- 
num id  esse  quod  seipsum  moveat,  quis  est  qui  hanc  naturam  animis  esse  tributam 
neget?  But  though  you  cannot  see  how  any  created  substance,  solid  or  not  solid, 
can  be  a  free  agent,  (pardon  me,  my  lord,  if  I  put  in  both  till  your  lordship  please 
to  explain  it  of  either,  and  show  the  manner  how  either  of  them  can,  of  itself, 
move  itself  or  any  thing  else)  yet  I  do  not  think  you  will  so  far  deny  men  to  be 
free  agents,  from  the  difficulty  there  is  to  see  how  they  are  free  agents,  as  to  doubt 
whether  there  be  foundation  enough  for  a  day  of  judgment. 

It  is  not  for  me  to  judge  how  far  your  lordship's  speculations  reach :  but  finding 
in  myself  nothing  to  be  truer  than  what  wise  Solomon  tells  me,  ||  As  thou  knowest 
not  what  is  the  way  of  the  spirit,  nor  how  the  bones  do  grow  in  the  womb  of 
her  that  is  with  child  ;  even  so  thou  knowest  not  the  works  of  God,  who  maketh 
all  things ;  I  gratefully  receive  and  rejoice  in  the  light  of  revelation,  which  sets 
me  at  rest  in  many  things,  the  manner  whereof  my  poor  reason  can  by  no  means 
make  out  to  me  :  Onmipotency,  I  know,  can  do  any  thing  that  contains  in  it  nb 

#  1st  Answer.  t  ibid.  ♦  2  Cor.  iii.  & 

•^Tosculan  Qua-st.  L.  1-  c  23-.  ||  Eccles.  st.  5. 


■  ll.  in. j  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  89 

which  seems  to  me  to  be  put  out  of  the  reach  of  our  knowledge:  and 
he  who  will  give  himself  leave  to  consider  freely,  and  look  into  the 
dark  and  intricate  partof  each  hypothesis,  will  scarce  tind  his  reason 
able  to  determine  him  fixedly  for  or  against  the  soul's  materiality. 
Since  on  which  side  soever  he  views  it,  either  as  an  unextended 
substance,  or  as  a  thinking  extended  matter;  the  difficulty  to  con- 
ceive either  will,  whilst  either  alone  is  in  his  thoughts,  still  drive 
him  to  the  contrary  side;  an  unfair  way  which  some  men  take  with 
themselves,  who,  because  of  the  inconceivableness  of  something 
they  find  in  one,  throw  themselves  violently  into  the  contrary  hy- 
pothesis, though  altogether  as  unintelligible  to  an  unbiassed  under- 
standing. This  serves  not  only  to  show  the  weakness  and.  the 
scantiness  of  our  knowledge,  but  the  insignificant  triumph  of  such 
sort  of  arguments,  which,  drawn  from  our  own  views,  may  satisfy 
us  that  we  can  find  no  certainty  on  one  side  of  the  question  ;  but 
do  not  at  all  thereby  help  us  to  truth  by  running  into  the  opposite 
opinion,  which,  on  examination,  will  be  found  clogged  with  equal 
difficulties.  For  what  safety,  what  advantage  to  any  one  is  it, 
for  the  avoiding  the  seeming  absurdities,  and  to  him  unsurmount- 
able  rubs  he  meets  with  in  one  opinion,  to  take  refuge  in  the 
contrary,  which  is  built  on  something  altogether  as  inexplicable, 
and  as  far  remote  from  his  comprehension  ?  It  is  past  contro- 
versy, that  we  have  in  us  something  that  think?  ;  our  very 
doubts  about  what  it  is  confirm  the  certainty  of  its  being, 
though  we  must  content  ourselves  in  the  ignorance  of  what  kind 
of  being  it  is  :  and  it  is  in  vain  to  go  about  to  be  sceptical  in  this. 
as  it  is  unreasonable  in  most  other  cases  to  be  positive  against 
fhe   being   of  any   thing,   because  we  cannot   comprehend  its 

contradiction  :  so  that  I  readily  believe  whatever  God  has  declared,  though  my 
reason  find  difficulties  in  it  which  it  cannot  master.  As  in  the  present  case,  God 
having  revealed  that  there  shall  be  a  day  of  judgment,  I  think  that  foundation 
enough  to  conclude  men  are  free  enough  to  be  made  answerable  for  their  actions, 
and  to  receive  according  to  what  they  have  done ;  though  how  man  is  a  free  agent, 
surpasses  my  explication  or  comprehension. 

In  answer  to  the  place  I  brought  out  of  St.  Luke,*  your  lordship  asks,: 
V\  hetber  from  these  words  of  our  Saviour  it  follows,  that  a  spirit  is  only  an 
appearance?  I  answer,  No  ;  nor  do  I  know  who  drew  such  an  inference  from 
them  :  but  it  follows,  that  in  apparitions  there  is  something  that  appears,  and  that 
which  appears  is  not  wholly  immaterial ;  and  yet  this  was  properly  called  tv£u/*«, 
and  was  often  looked  upon  by  those  who  called  it  irvevputm  Greek,  and  now  call  it 
spirit  in  English,  to  be  the  ghost  or  soul  of  one  departed  ;  which  I  humbly  conceive 
justifies  my  use  of  the  word  spirit,  for  a  thinking  voluntary  agent,  whether  mate- 
rial or  immaterial, 

Your  lordship says4  That  I  grant,  that  it  cannot  upon  these  principles  be  de- 
monstrated, that  the  spiritual  substance  in  us  is  immaterial :  from  whence  you  con- 
dude,  That  then  my  grounds  of  certainty  from  ideas  are  plainly  given  up.  This 
being  a  way  of  arguing  that  you  often  make  use  of,  I  have  often  had  occasion  to 
consider  it,  and  cannot  after  all  see  the  force  of  this  argument.  I  acknowledge 
that  this  or  that  proposition  cannot  upon  my  principles  be  demonstrated;  ergo,  I 
grant  tins  proposition  to  be  false,  thai  certainty  consists  in  the  perception  of  the 
agreement  or  disagreement  of  ideas.  For  that  is  m  v  ground  oi  certainty,  and  till 
•tint  be  given  up,  my  grounds  of  certainty  are  not  given  up. 

■  Ch.  xxiv.  v  1st  Answer.  iTbiH, 


00  KXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV. 

nature.  For  I  would  fain  know  what  substance  exists,  that  has 
not  something  in  it  which  manifestly  baffles  our  understandings. 
Other  spirits,  who  see  and  know  the  nature  and  inward  constitu- 
tion of  things,  how  much  must  they  exceed  us  in  knowledge  ! 
To  which  if  we  add  larger  comprehension,  which  enables  them 
at  one  glance  to  see  the  connexion  and  agreement  of  very  many 
ideas,  and  readily  supplies  to  them  the  intermediate  proofs,  which 
we  by  single  and  slow  steps,  and  long  poring  in  the  dark,  hardly 
at  last  find  out,  and  are  often  ready  to  forget  one  before  we  have 
hunted  out  another  ;  we  may  guess  at  some  part  of  the  happiness 
of  superior  ranks  of  spirits,  who  have  a  quicker  and  more  pene- 
trating sight,  as  well  as  a  larger  field  of  knowledge.  But  to 
return  to  the  argument  in  hand ;  our  knowledge,  I  say,  is  not  only 
limited  to  the  paucity  and  imperfections  of  the  ideas  we  have, 
and  which  we  employ  it  about,  but  even  comes  short  of  that  too. 
But  how  far  it  reaches,  let  us  now  inquire, 

§  7.    HOW  FAR  OUR  KNOWLEDGE  REACHES. 

The  affirmations  or  negations  we  make  concerning  the  ideas 
we  have,  may,  as  I  have  before  intimated  in  general,  be  reduced 
to  these  four  sorts,  viz.  identity,  coexistence,  relation,  and  real 
existence.  1  shall  examine  how  far  our  knowledge  extends  in 
each  of  these. 

§  8.     1.  OUR  KNOWLEDGE  OF  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY,  AS  FAR  AS  OUR 

IDEAS. 

First,  as  to  identity  and  diversity,  in  this  way  of  the  agreement 
or  disagreement  of  our  ideas,  our  intuitive  knowledge  is  as  far 
extended  as  our  ideas  themselves :  and  there  can  be  no  idea  in 
the  mind,  which  it  docs  not  presently,  by  an  intuitive  knowledge- 
perceive  to  be  what  it  is,  and  to  be  different  from  any  other. 

♦  9.    2.    OF  COEXISTENCE,  A  VERY  LITTLE  WAY. 

Secondly,  as  to  the  second  sort,  which  is  the  agreement  or 
disagreement  of  our  ideas  in  coexistence  ;  in  this  our  knowledge 
is  very  short,  though  in  this  consists  the  greatest  and  most  mate- 
rial part  of  our  knowledge  concerning  substances.  For  our  ideas 
of  the  species  of  substances  being,  as  1  have  showed,  nothing  but 
certain  collections  of  simple  ideas  united  in  one  subject,  and  so 
coexisting  together  ;  v.  g.  our  idea  of  flame  is  a  body  hot,  lumi- 
nous, and  moving  upward  ;  of  gold,  a  body  heavy  to  a  certain 
degree,  yellow,  malleable,  and  fusible  :  these,  or  some  such  com- 
plex ideas  as  these  in  men's  minds,  do  these  two  names  of  the 
different  substances,  flame  and  gold,  stand  for.  When  we  would 
know  any  thing  farther  concerning  these,  or  any  other  sort  of 
substances,  what  do  we  inquire,  but  what  other  qualities  or  powers 
these  substances  have  or  have  not '?  Which  is  nothing  else  but 
to  know  what  other  simple  ideas  do  or  do  not  coexist  with  those 
that  make  up  that  complex  id*3*. 


■  11.  III.]  EXTENT  OV  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  SI 

§   10-    BECAUSE  THE  CONNEXION  BETWEEN  MOST  SIMPLE  IDEAS  IS 
UNKNOWN. 

This,  how  weighty  and  considerable  a  part  soever  of  human 
science,  is  yet  very  narrow,  and  scarce  any  at  all.  The  reason 
whereof  is,  that  the  simple  ideas,  whereof  our  complex  ideas  of 
substances  are  made  up,  are,  for  the  most  part,  such  as  carry 
with  them,  in  their  own  nature,  no  visible  necessary  connexion 
or  inconsistency  with  any  other  simple  ideas,  whose  coexistence 
with  them  we  would  inform  ourselves  about. 

§    11.    ESPECIALLY   OF   SECONDARY   QUALITIES. 

The  ideas  that  our  complex  ones  of  substances  are  made  up  of, 
and  about  which  our  knowledge  concerning  substances  is  most 
employed,  are  those  of  their  secondary  qualities;  which  depend- 
ing all  (as  has  been  shown)  upon  the  primary  qualities  of  their 
minute  and  insensible  parts, — or  if  not  upon  them,  upon  some- 
thing yet  more  remote  from  our  comprehension, — it  is  impossible 
we  should  know  which  have  a  necessary  union  or  inconsistency 
one  with  another  :  for  not  knowing  the  root  they  spring  from,  not 
knowing  what  size,  figure,  and  texture  of  parts  they  are,  on  which 
depend,  and  from  which  result,  those  qualities  which  make  our 
complex  idea  of  gold  ;  it  is  impossible  we  should  know  what  other 
qualities  result  from,  or  are  incompatible  with,  the  same  consti- 
tution of  the  insensible  parts  of  gold,  and  so  consequently  must 
always  coexist  with  that  complex  idea  we  have  of  it,  or  else  are 
inconsistent  with  it. 

§  12.  BECAUSE  ALL  CONNEXION  BETWEEN   ANY  SECONDARY   AND  PRIMARY 
QUALITIES  IS  UNDISCOVERABLE. 

Besides  this  ignorance  of  the  primary  qualities  of  the  insensible 
parts  of  bodies,  on  which  depend  all  their  secondary  qualities, 
there  is  yet  another  and  more  incurable  part  of  ignorance,  which 
sets  us  up  more  remote  from  a  certain  knowledge  of  the  coexistence 
or  incoexistence  (if  I  may  so  say)  of  different  ideas  in  the  same  sub- 
ject ;  and  that  is,  that  there  is  no  discoverable  connexion  between 
any  secondary  quality  and  those  primary  qualities  which  it  de- 
pends on. 

$  13- 
that  the  size,  figure,  and  motion  of  one  body  should  cause  a 
change  in  the  size,  figure,  and  motion  of  another  body,  is  not  be- 
yond our  conception  :  the  separation  of  the  parts  of  one  body 
upon  the  intrusion  of  another,  and  the  change  from  rest  to 
motion  upon  impulse,— these  and  the  like  seem  to  us  to  have  some 
connexion  one  with  another.  And  if  we  knew  these  primary 
qualities  of  bodies,  we  might  have  reason  to  hope  we  might  be 
able  to  know  a  great  deal  more  of  these  operations  of  them  one 
upon  another  :  but  our  minds  not  being  able  to  discover  any  con- 
nexion betwixt  those  primary  qualities  of  bodies  and  the  sensa- 
tions thai  are  produced  in  us  by  them,  we  can  never  be  able  << 


92  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV. 

establish  certain  and  undoubted  rules  of  the  consequences  or  co- 
existence of  any  secondary  qualities,  though  we  could  discover 
the  size,  figure,  or  motion  of  those  invisible  parts  which  immedi- 
ately produce  them.  We  are  so  far  ffom  knowing  what  figure, 
size,  or  motion  of  parts  produce  a  yellow  colour,  a  sweet  taste; 
or  a  sharp  sound,  that  we  can  by  no  means  conceive  how  any 
size,  figure,  or  motion  of  any  particles,  can  possibly  produce  in 
us  the  idea  of  any  colour,  taste,  or  sound  whatsoever  ;  there  is  no 
conceivable  connexion  betwixt  the  one  and  the  other. 

§  14. 
In  vain,  therefore,  shall  we  endeavour  to  discover  by  our  ideas 
(the   only  true  way  of  certain  and  universal  knbwledge)  what 
other  ideas  are  to  be  found  constantly  joined  with  that  of  our 
complex  idea  of  any  substance :  since  wc  neither  know  the  real 
constitution  of  the   minute   parts   on  which  their  qualities  do 
depend,  nor,  did  we  know  them,  could  we  discover  any  necessary 
connexion  between  them   and  any  of  the  secondary  qualities  : 
which  is  necessary  to  be  done  before  we  can  certainly  know 
their  necessary   coexistence.     So  that  let  our  complex  idea  of 
any  species  of  substances  be  what  it  will,  we  can  hardly,  from 
the  simple  ideas  contained  in  it,  certainly  determine  the  neces- 
sary coexistence  of  any  other  quality  whatsoever.     Our  know- 
ledge in  all  these  inquiries  reaches  very  little  farther  than  our 
experience.     Indeed,  some  few  of  the  primary  qualities  have  a 
necessary  dependence  and  visible  connexion  one  with  another, 
as  figure  necessarily  supposes  extension  ;  receiving  or  communi- 
cating motion  by  impulse,  supposes  solidity.     But  though  these 
and  perhaps  some  other  of  our  ideas  have,  yet  there  are  so  few 
of  them  that  have  a  visible  connexion  one  with  another,  that  we 
can  by  intuition  or  demonstration  discover  the  coexistence  of 
very  few  of  the  qualities  are  to  be  found  united  in  substances  : 
and  we  are  left  only  to  the  assistance  of  our  senses,  to  make 
known  to  us  what  qualities  they  contain.     For  of  all  the  qualities 
that  are   coexistent  in  any  subject,  without  this  dependence  and 
evident  connexion  of  their  ideas  one  with  another,  we  cannot 
know  certainly  any  two  to  coexist  any  farther  than  experience,  by 
our  senses,  informs  us.     Thus,  though  we  see  the  yellow  colour, 
and  upon  trial  find  the  weight,  malleableness,  fusibility,  and  fixed- 
ness, that  are  united  in  a  piece  of  gold  ;  yet  because  no  one  of 
these  ideas  has  any  evident  dependence,  or  necessary  connexion 
with  the  other,  we  cannot  certainly  know,  that  where  any  four  of 
these  are,  the  fifth  will  be  there  also,  how  highly  probable  soever 
it  may  be;  because  the  highest  probability  amounts  not  to  cer- 
tainty, without  which  there  can  be  no  true  knowledge.     For  this 
coexistence  can  be  no  farther  known  than  it  is  perceived  ;  and 
it  cannot  be  perceived  but  either  in  particular  subjects,  by  the 
observation  of  our  senses,  or  in  general,  by  the  necessary  con 
nexion  of  the  ideas  themselves. 


CII.  III.]  EXTENT   OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  93 

§    13.    OF  REPUGNANCY  TO  COEXIST,  LARGER. 

As  to  the  incompatibility  or  repugnancy  to  coexistence,  we  may 
know  that  any  subject  may  have  of*  each  sort  of  primary 
qualities  but  one  particular  at  once  ;  v.  g.  each  particular  exten- 
sion, figure,  number  of  parts,  motion,  excludes  all  other  of  each 
kind.  The  like  also  is  certain  of  all  sensible  ideas  peculiar  to 
each  sense ;  for  whatever  of  each  kind  is  present  in  any  subject, 
excludes  all  other  of  that  sort ;  v.  g.  no  one  subject  can  have 
two  smells  or  two  colours  at  the  same  time.  To  this  perhaps 
will  be  said,  Has  not  an  opal,  or  the  infusion  of  lignum  nephriii- 
ium,  two  colours  at  the  same  time  ?  To  which  1  answer,  that 
these  bodies,  to  eyes  differently  placed,  may,  at  the  same  time, 
afford  different  colours  ;  but  I  take  liberty  also  to  say,  that  to 
eyes  differently  placed,  it  is  different  parts  of  the  object  that  re- 
ilect  the  particles  of  light ;  and  therefore  it  is  not  the  same  part 
of  the  object,  and  so  not  the  very  same  subject,  which  at  the 
same  time  appears  both  yellow  and  azure.  For  it  is  as  impos- 
sible that  the  very  same  particle  of  any  body  should  at  the  same 
time  differently  modify  or  reflect  the  rays  of  light,  as  that  it 
.should  have  two  different  figures  and  textures  at  the  same  time. 

§   16.    OF  THE  COEXISTENCE    OF   POWERS,   A    VERY  LITTLE  WAY. 

But  as  to  the  powers  of  substances  to  change  the  sensible 
qualities  of  other  bodies,  which  make  a  great  part  of  our  inqui- 
ries about  them,  and  is  no  inconsiderable  branch  of  our  know- 
ledge ;  I  doubt,  as  to  these,  whether  our  knowledge  reaches 
much  farther  than  our  experience  ;  or  whether  we  can  come 
to  the  discovery  of  most  of  these  powers,  and  be  certain  that 
they  are  in  any  subject,  by  the  connexion  with  any  of  those  ideas 
which  to  us  make  its  essence.  Because  the  active  and  passive 
powers  of  bodies,  and  their  ways  of  operating,  consisting  in  a 
texture  and  motion  of  parts,  which  we  cannot  by  any  means. 
come  to  discover;  it  is  but  in  very  few  cases  we  can  be  able  to 
perceive  their  dependence  on,  or  repugnance  to,  any  of  those 
ideas,  which  make  our  complex  one  of  that  sort,  of  things.  I 
have  here  instanced  in  the  corpuscularian  hypothesis,  as  that, 
which  is  thought  to  go  farthest  in  an  intelligible  explication  of 
i  hose  qualities  of  bodies  ;  and  I  fear  the  weakness  of  human 
understanding  is  scarce  able  to  substitute  another,  which  will 
afford  ns  a  fuller  and  clearer  discovery  of  the  necessary  con- 
nexion and  coexistence  of  the  powers  which  are  to  be  observed 
united  in  several  sorts  of  them.  This  at  least  is  certain,  that. 
whichever  hypothesis  be  clearest  and  truest,  (for  of  that  it  is 
not  my  business  to  determine)  our  knowledge  concerning  cor- 
poreal substances  will  be  very  little  advanced  by  any  of  them, 
till  we  are  made  to  see.  what  qualities  and  powers  of  bodies  have 
a  necessary  connexion  or  repugnancy  one  with  another ;  which 
in  thepresent  state  of  philosophy,  I think  we  know  but  to  a  i  ei  • 

Vol.  II.  13 


94  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV. 

small  degree :  and  I  doubt  whether,  with  those  faculties  we 
have,  we  shall  ever  be  able  to  carry  our  general  knowledge  (I 
say  not  particular  experience)  in  this  part  much  farther.  Ex- 
perience is  that  which  in  this  part  we  must  depend  on.  And  it 
were  to  be  wished  that  it  were  more  improved.  We  find  the 
advantages  some  men's  generous  pains  have  this  way  brought  to 
the  stock  of  natural  knowledge.  And  if  others,  especially  the 
philosophers  by  fire,  who  pretend  to  it,  had  been  so  wary  in  their 
observations,  and  sincere  in  their  reports,  as  those  who  call  them- 
selves philosophers  ought  to  have  been,  our  acquaintance  with 
the  bodies  here  about  us,  and  our  insight  into  their  powers  and 
operations,  had  been  yet  much  greater. 

§    17.    OF  SPIRITS,  VET  NARROWER. 

If  we  are  at  a  loss  in  respect  of  the  powers  and  operations 
of  bodies,  I  think  it  is  easy  to  conclude,  we  are  much  more  in 
the  dark  in  reference  to  the  spirits  ;  whereof  we  naturally  have 
no  ideas  but  what  Ave  draw  from  that  of  our  own,  by  reflecting 
on  the  operations  of  our  own  souls  within  us,  as  far  as  they  can 
come  within  our  observation.  But  how  inconsiderable  a 
rank  the  spirits  that  inhabit  our  bodies  hold  among  those  various 
and  possibly  innumerable  kinds  of  nobler  beings  ;  and  how  far 
short  they  come  of  the  endowments  and  perfections  of  cheru- 
bim and  seraphim,  and  infinite  sorts  of  spirits  above  us ;  is  what 
by  a  transient  hint  in  another  place,  J  have  offered  to  my 
reader's  consideration. 

§   18.    3.  OF  OTHER  RELATIONS,  IT  IS  NOT  EASY  TO  SAY  HOW  FAR. 

As  to  the  third  sort  of  our  knowledge,  viz.  the  agreement  oi 
disagreement  of  any  of  our  ideas  in  any  other  relation :  this, 
as  it  is  the  largest  field  of  our  knowledge,  so  it  is  hard  to  deter- 
mine how  far  it  may  extend  ;  because  the  advances  that  are 
made  in  this  part  of  knowledge,  depending  on  our  sagacity  in 
finding  intermediate  ideas,  that  may  show  the  relations  and  habi- 
tudes of  ideas,  whose  coexistence  is  not  considered,  it  is  a  hard 
matter  to  tell  when  Ave  are  at  an  end  of  such  discoveries  ;  and 
when  reason  has  all  the  helps  it  is  capable  of,  for  the  finding  of 
proofs,  or  examining  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  remote 
ideas.  They  that  are  ignorant  of  algebra  cannot  imagine  the 
Avonders  in  this  kind  are  to  be  done  by  it :  and  what  farther  im- 
provements and  helps,  advantageous  to  other  parts  of  know- 
ledge the  sagacious  mind  of  man  may  yet  find  out,  it  is  not 
easy  to  determine.  This  at  least  I  believe,  that  the  ideas  of 
quantity  are  not  those  alone  that  are  capable  of  demonstration 
and  knoAvledge;  and  that  other,  and  perhaps  more  useful 
parts  of  contemplation,  Avould  atfbrd  us  certainty,  if  vices,  pul- 
sions, and  domineering  interest  did  not  oppose  or  menace  such 
endeavours. 


.  II.   III.  j  EXTENT  OP  fUMAN   KNOWLEDGE.  H.\> 

MORALITY  CAPABLE  OF   PJEMONSTJIATIOJT. 

The  idea  of  a  Supreme  Being,  infinite  in  power,  goodness,  and 
wisdom,  whose  workmanship  Ave  are,  and  on  whom  we  depend  . 
and  the  idea  oi' ourselves,  as  understanding  rational  beings,  being 
such  as  are  clear  in  us,  would,  I  suppose,  if  duly  considered 
and  pursued,  afford  such  foundations  of  our  duty  and  rules  of 
action,  as  might  place  morality  among  the  sciences  capable  of 
demonstration  :  wherein  I  doubt  not  but  from  self-evident  pro- 
positions, by  necessary  consequences,  as  incontestable  as  those 
in  mathematics,  the  measures  of  right  and  wrong  might  be  made 
out  to  any  one  that  will  apply  himself  wijffi  the  same  indifferency 
and  attention  to  the  one,  as  he  does  to  the  other  of  these 
sciences.  The  relation  of  other  modes  may  certainly  be  per- 
ceived, as  wrell  as  those  of  number  and  extension ;  and  I  cannot 
see  why  they  should  not  also  be  capable  of  demonstration,  if 
due  methods  were  thought  on  to  examine  or  pursue  their  agree- 
ment or  disagreement.  Where  there  is  no  property,  there  is  no 
injustice,  is  a  proposition  as  certain  as  any  demonstration  in 
Euclid :  for  the  idea  of  property  being  a  right^to  any  thing ; 
and  the  idea  to  which  the  name  injustice  is  given,  being  the 
invasion  or  violation  of  that  right ;  it  is  evident  that  these  ideas 
being  thus  established,  and  these  names  annexed  to  them,  I  can 
as  certainly  know  this  proposition  to  be  true,  as  that  a  triangle 
has  three  angles  equal  to  two  right  ones.  Again,  "  no  govern- 
ment allows  absolute  liberty  :"  The  idea  of  government  being 
ilic  establishment  of  society  upon  certain  rules  or  laws  which 
require  conformity  to  them  ;  and  the  idea  of  absolute  liberty 
being  for  any  one  to  do  whatever  he  pleases ;  I  am  as  capable 
of  being  certain  of  the  truth  of  this  proposition,  as  of  any  in 
the  mathematics. 

}  19.  TWO  THINGS  HAVE  MADE  MORAL  IDEAS  THOUGHT  INCAPABLE  OF 
DEMONSTRATION  :  THEIR  COMI'LEXEDNESS,  AND  WANT  OF  SENSIBLE 
REPRESENTATIONS. 

That  which  in  this  respect  has  given  the  advantage  to  the 
ideas  of  quantity,  ami  made  them  thought  more  capable  of  cer- 
lainty  and  demonstration,  is, 

First,  that  they  can  be  set  down  and  represented  by  sensible 
marks,  which  have  a  greater  and  nearer  correspondence  with 
them  than  any  words  or  sounds  whatsoever.  Diagrams  drawn 
on  paper  are  copies  of  the  ideas  in  the  mind,  and  not  liable  to 
the  uncertainty  that  words  carry  in  their  signification.  An 
angle,  circle,  or  square,  drawn  in  lines,  lies  open  to  the  view, 
and  cannot  be  mistaken  :  it  remains  unchangeable,  and  may  at 
leisure  be  considered  and  examined,  and  the  demonstration  be 
revised,  and  all  the  parts  of  it  may  be  gone  over  more  than  once 
without  any  danger  of  the  least  change  in  the  ideas.  This  can- 
not be  thus  done  in  moral  ideas  :  W*  have  no  sensible  marks  that. 


96  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV. 

resemble  them,  whereby  we  ran  set  them  down ;  we  have; 
nothing  but  words  to  express  them  by :  which  though,  when 
written,  they  remain  the  same,  yet  the  ideas  they  stand  for  may 
change  in  the  same  man ;  and  it  is  very  seldom  that  they  are  not 
di  tie  rent  in  different  persons. 

Secondly,  another  thing  that  makes  the  greater  difficulty  in 
ethics  is,  that  moral  ideas  are  commonly  more  complex  than 
those  of  the  figures  ordinarily  considered  in  mathematics.  From 
whence  these  two  inconveniencies  follow:  first,  that  their  names 
are  of  more  uncertain  signification,  the  precise  collection  of 
simple  ideas  they  stand  for  not  being  so  easily  agreed  on,  and  so 
the  sign  that  is  used  for  them  in  communication  always,  and  in 
thinking  often,  does  not  steadily  carry  with  it  the  same  idea. 
Upon  which  the  same  disorder,  confusion,  and  error  follow,  as 
would  if  a  man,  going  to  demonstrate  something  of  an  heptagon, 
should,  in  the  diagram  he  took  to  do  it,  leave  out  one  of  the 
angles,  or  by  oversight  make  the  figure  with  one  angle  more 
than  the  name  ordinarily  imported,  or  he  intended  it  should, 
when  at  first  he  thought  of  his  demonstration.  This  often  hap- 
pens, and  is  hardly  avoidable  in  very  complex  moral  ideas, 
where  the  same  name  being  retained,  one  angle,  ?'.  e.  one  simple 
idea  is  left  out  or  put  in  the  complex  one,  (still  called  by  the 
same  name)  more  at  onetime  than  another.  Secondly,  from 
the  complexedness  of  these  moral  ideas,  there  follows  another 
inconvenience,  viz.  that  the  mind  cannot  easily  retain  those  pre- 
cise combinations,  so  exactly  and  perfectly  as  is  necessary  in 
the  examination  of  the  habitudes  and  correspondencies,  agree- 
ments or  disagreements,  of  several  of  them  one  with  another  ; 
especially  where  it  is  to  be  judged  of  by  long  deductions,  and 
the  intervention  of  several  other  complex  ideas,  to  show  the 
agreement  or  disagreement  of  two  remote  ones. 

The  great  help  against  this  which  mathematicians  find  in 
diagrams  and  figures,  which  remain  unalterable  in  their  draughts, 
is  very  apparent,  and  the  memory  would  often  have  great  diffi- 
culty otherwise  to  retain  them  so  exactly,  whilst  the  mind  went 
over  the  parts  of  them  step  by  step,  to  examine  their  several 
correspondencies.  And  though  in  casting  up  a  long  sum  either 
in  addition,  multiplication,  or  division,  every  part  be  only  a 
progression  of  the  mind,  taking  a  view  of  its  own  ideas,  and 
considering  their  agreement  or  disagreement ;  and  the  resolution 
of  the  question  be  nothing  but  the  result  of  the  whole,  made  up 
of  such  particulars,  whereof  the  mind  has  a  clear  perception : 
yet  without  setting  down  the  several  parts  by  marks,  whose 
precise  significations  are  known,  and  by  marks  that  last  and 
remain  in  view  when  the  memory  had  let  them  go,  it  would  be 
almost  impossible  to  carry  so  many  different  ideas  in  the  mind, 
without  confounding  or  letting  slip  some  parts  of  the  reckoning, 
and  thereby  making  all  our  reasonings  about  it  useless.  In 
which  case,  the  ciphers  or  marks  help  not  the  mind  at  all  to 


f  II.  III.  j  EXTENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  97 

perceive  the  agreement  of  any  two  or  more  numbers,  their 
equalities  or  proportions  :  that  the  mind  has  only  by  intuition  of 
its  own  ideas  of  the  numbers  themselves.  But  the  numerical 
characters  are  helps  to  the  memory,  to  reeord  and  retain  the 
several  ideas  about  which  the  demonstration  is  made,  whereby 
a  man  may  know  how  far  his  intuitive  knowledge,  in  surveying 
several  of  the  particular's,  has  proceeded;  that  so  he  may  with- 
out confusion  go  on  to  what  is  yet  unknown,  and  at  last  have 
in  one  view  before  him  the  result  of  all  his  perceptions  and 
reasonings. 

§  20.    REMEDIES  OF  THOSE  DIFFICULTIES. 

One  part  of  these  disadvantages  in  moral  ideas,  which  has 
made  them  be  thought  not  capable  of  demonstration,   may  in  a 
good    measure   be  remedied  by  definitions,    setting  down  that 
collection  of  simple  ideas,  which  every  term  shall  stand  for,  and 
then  using  the  terms  steadily  and  constantly  for  that  precise 
collection.     And  what  methods  algebra,  or  something  of  that 
kind,   may  hereafter  suggest,  to  remove  the  other  difficulties,  it 
is  not  easy  to  foretell.     Confident  1  am,  that  if  men  would  in 
the  same  method,  and  with  the  same  indifferency,  search  after 
moral,  as  they  do  mathematical  truths,  they  would  find  them 
have  a  stronger  connexion  one  with  another,  and  a  more  neces- 
sary consequence  from  our  clear  and  distinct  ideas,  and  to  come 
nearer  perfect  demonstration  than  is  commonly  imagined.     But 
much  of  this  is  not  to  be  expected,  whilst  the  desire  of  esteem, 
riches,  or  power,  makes  men  espouse  the  well-endow  ed  opinions 
in  fashion,  and  then  seek  arguments  either  to  make  good  their 
beaut}',  or  varnish  over  and  cover  their  deformity :  nothing  being 
so  beautiful  to  the  eye  as  truth  is  to  the  mind  ;  nothing  so  de- 
formed and  irreconcileable  to  the  understanding  as  a  lie.     For 
though  many  a  man  can  with  satisfaction  enough  own  a  no 
very  handsome   wife   in  his  bosom ;  yet  who   is  bold   enough 
openly  to  avow,  that  he  has  espoused  a  falsehood,  and  received 
into  his  breast  so  ugly  a  thing  as  a  lie  1     Whilst  the  parties  of 
men  cram  their  tenets  down  all  men's  throats,  whom  they  can 
get  into  their  power,  without  permitting  them  to  examine  their 
truth  or  falsehood,  and  will   not  let  truth  have  fair  play  in  the 
world,  nor  men  the  liberty  to  search  after  it,  what  improvements 
can  be  expected  of  this  kind  '  What  greater  light  can  be  hoped 
for  in  the  moral  sciences  I     The   subject  part  of  mankind  in 
most  places  might,  instead  thereof,  with  Egyptian  bondage  ex- 
pect Egyptian  darkness,   were  not  the  candle  of  tin    Lord  set 
up  by  himself  in  men's  minds,  which  it  is  impossible  for1  the 
breath  or  power  of  man  wholly  extinguish 


98  EXTENT  OP  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV. 

§  21.  4.  OF  REAL  EXISTENCE  :  WE  HAVE  AN  INTUITIVE  KNOWLEDGE 
OF  OUR  OWN  ;  DEMONSTRATIVE,  OF  GOD'S  ;  SENSITIVE,  OF  SOME 
FEW  OTHER  THINGS. 

As  to  the  fourth  sort  of  our  knowledge,  viz.  of  the  real 
actual  existence  of  things,  we  have  an  intuitive  knowledge  of 
our  own  existence  ;  and  a  demonstrative  knowledge  of  the 
existence  of  a  God ;  of  the  existence  of  any  thing  else,  we  have 
no  other  but  a  sensitive  knowledge,  which  extends  not  beyond 
the  objects  present  to  our  senses. 

§  22.    OUR  IGNORANCE   GREAT. 

Our  knowledge  being  so  narrow,  as  I  have  showed,  it  will 
perhaps  give  us  some  light  into  the  present  state  of  our  minds, 
if  we  look  a  little  into  the  dark  side,  and  take  a  view  of  our 
ignorance  ;  which,  being  infinitely  larger  than  our  knowledge, 
may  serve  much  to  the  quieting  of  disputes,  and  improvement 
of  useful  knowledge ;  if  discovering  how  far  we  have  clear  and 
distinct  ideas,  we  confine  our  thoughts  within  the  contemplation 
of  those  things  that  are  within  the  reach  of  our  understandings, 
and  launch  not  out  into  that  abyss  of  darkness  (where  we  have 
not  eyes  to  see,  nor  faculties  to  perceive  any  thing)  out  of  a 
presumption  that  nothing  is  beyond  our  comprehension.  But 
to  be  satisfied  of  the  folly  of  such  a  conceit,  we  need  not  go 
far.  He  that  knows  any  thing,  knows  this  in  the  first  place, 
that  he  need  not  seek  long  for  instances  of  his  ignorance.  The 
meanest  and  most  obvious  things  that  come  in  our  way  have 
dark  sides,  that  the  quickest  sight  cannot  penetrate  into.  The 
clearest  and  most  enlarged  understandings  of  thinking  men  find 
themselves  puzzled,  and  at  a  loss,  in  every  particle  of  matter. 
We  shall  the  less  wonder  to  find  it  so,  when  we  consider  the 
causes  of  our  ignorance ;  which,  from  what  has  been  said,  I 
suppose,  will  be  found  to  be  these  three : 

First,  want  of  ideas. 

Secondly,  want  of  a  discoverable  connexion  between  the 
ideas  we  have. 

Thirdly,  want  of  tracing  and  examining  our  ideas. 

^  23.    FIUST,  ONE    CAUSE   OF    IT    WANT  OF  IDEAS,    EITHER    SUCH    A9  WE 
HAVE  NO  CONCEPTION   OF,  OR    SUCH    AS     PARTICULARLY  WE   HAVE  NOT. 

First,  There  are  some  things,  and  those  not  a  few^  that  wc 
are  ignorant  of,  lor  want  of  ideas. 

First ;  all  the  simple  ideas  we  have  are  confined  (as  I  have 
shown)  to  those  Ave  receive  from  corporeal  objects  by  sensation, 
and  from  the  operations  of  our  own  minds  as  the  objects  of 
reflection.  But  how  much  these  few  and  narrow  inlets  are  dis- 
proportionate to  the  vast  whole  extent  of  all  beings,  will  not 
be  hard  to  persuade  those,  who  are  not  so  foolish  as  to  think 
their  span  the  measure  of  all  things.  What  other  simple  ideas 
it  is  possible  the  creatures  in  other  parts  of  the  universe  may 


CH.  III.]  EXTENT  OP  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  99 

have,  by  the  assistance  of  senses  and  faculties  more,  or  perfect- 
er,  than  we  have,  or  different  from  ours,  it  is  not  for  us  to  deter- 
mine. But  to  say  or  think  there  are  no  such,  because  we  con- 
ceive nothing  of  them,  is  no  better  an  argument,  than  if  a  blind 
man  should  be  positive  in  it,  that  there  was  no  such  thing  as 
sight  and  colours,  because  he  had  no  manner  of  idea  of  any 
such  thing,  nor  could  by  any  means  frame  to  himself  any  notions 
about  seeing.  The  ignorance  and  darkness  that  is  in  us,  no 
more  hinders  nor  confines  the  knowledge  that  in  in  others,  than 
the  blindness  of  a  mole  is  an  argument  against  the  quick-sight- 
edness  of  an  eagle.  He  that  will  consider  the  infinite  power, 
wisdom,  and  goodness  of  the  Creator  of  all  things,  will  find 
reason  to  think  it  was  not  all  laid  out  upon  so  inconsiderable, 
mean,  and  impotent  a  creature,  as  he  will  find  man  to  be ;  who, 
in  all  probability,  is  one  of  the  lowest  of  all  intellectual  beings. 
What  faculties  therefore  other  species  of  creatines  have,  to  pene- 
trate into  the  nature  and  inmost  constitutions  of  things  ;  what  ideas 
they  may  receive  of  them,  far  different  from  ours ;  we  know  not. 
This  we  know,  and  certainly  find,  that  we  want  several  other 
views  of  them,  besides  those  we  have,  to  make  discoveries  of 
them  more  perfect.  And  we  may  be  convinced  that  the  ideas 
we  can  attain  to  by  our  faculties,  are  very  disproportionate  to 
things  themselves,  Avhen  a  positive,  clear,  distinct  one  of  sub- 
stance itself,  which  is  the  foundation  of  all  the  rest,  is  concealed 
from  us.  But  want  of  ideas  of  this  kind  being  a  part,  as  well 
as  cause  of  our  ignorance,  cannot  be  described.  Only  this,  I 
think  I  may  confidently  say  of  it,  that  the  intellectual  and  sensi- 
ble world  are  in  this  perfectly  alike ;  that  that  part,  which  wc 
see  of  either  of  them,  holds  no  proportion  with  what  see  not ; 
and  whatsoever  we  can  reach  with  our  eyes*  or  our  thoughts, 
of  either  of  them,  is  but  a  point,  almost  nothing  in  comparison 
of  the  rest. 

§  24.  BECAUSE  OF  THEIR  REMOTENESS  ;  OR, 

Secondly,  another  great  cause  of  ignorance  is  the  want  ot 
ideas  we  are  capable  of.  As  the  want  of  ideas,  which  our  fa- 
culties are  not  able  to  give  us,  shuts  us  wholly  from  those  views 
of  things,  which  it  is  reasonable  to  think  other  beings,  perfecter 
ihen  we,  have,  of  which  we  know  nothing,  so  the  want  of  ideas 
1  now  speak  of  keeps  us  hi  ignorance  of  things  wc  conceive 
capable  of  being  known  to  us.  Bulk,  figure,  and  motion,  we 
have  ideas  of.  But  though  we  are  not  without  ideas  of  these 
miman  qualities  of  bodies  in  general,  \et  not  knowing  what  is 
the  particular  bulk,  figure,  arid  motion,  of  the  greatest  part  of  the 
bodies  of  the  universe  ;  we  are  ignorant  of  the  several  powers. 
efficacies;  and  ways  of  operation,  whereby  the  effects,  which  we 
daily  see,  are  produced.  These  are  hid  (mm  us  in  some  filings, 
by  being  too  remote  ;  ;U1(|  ;,,  others,  by  beingtoo  minute.  When 
v?e consider the  vast djstaneeof  the  known aird  visible  parts  of 


100  EXTENT  OP  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV- 

the  world,  and  the  reasons  we  have  to  think  that  what  lies  within 
our  ken  is  but  a  small  part  of  the  universe,  we  shall  then  discover 
a  huge  abyss  of  ignorance.  What  are  the  particular  fabrics  of 
the  great  masses  of  matter,  which  make  up  the  whole  stupendous 
frame  of  corporeal  beings,  how  far  they  are  extended,  what  is 
their  motion,  and  how  continued  or  communicated,  and  what 
influence  they  have  one  upon  another,  are  contemplations  that 
at  first  glimpse  our  thoughts  lose  themselves  in.  If  we  narrow 
our  contemplations,  and  confine  our  thoughts  to  this  little  canton, 
I  mean  this  system  of  our  sun,  and  the  grosser  masses  of  matter 
that  visibly  move  about  it  ;  what  several  sorts  of  vegetables,  ani- 
mals, and  intellectual  corporeal  beings,  infinitely  different  from 
those  of  our  little  spot  of  earth,  may  there  probably  be  in  the 
other  planets,  to  the  knowledge  of  which,  even  of  their  outward 
figures  and  parts,  we  can  no  way  attain,  whilst  we  are  confined 
to  this  earth  ,  there  being  no  natural  means,  either  by  sensation 
or  reflection,  to  convey  their  certain  ideas  into  our  minds  ?  They 
are  out  of  the  reach  of  those  inlets  of  all  our  knowledge :  and 
what  sorts  of  furniture  and  inhabitants  those  mansions  contain  in 
them  we  cannot  so  much  as  guess,  much  less  have  clear  and  dis- 
tinct ideas  of  them. 

§  25.    BECAUSE  OF  THEIB,  MINUTENESS. 

If  a  great,  nay,  far  the  greatest  part  of  the  several  ranks  of 
bodies  in  the  universe,  escape  our  notice  by  their  remoteness, 
there  are  others  that  are  no  less  concealed  from  us  by  their 
minuteness.  These  insensible  corpuscles  being  the  active  parts 
of  matter,  and  the  great  instruments  of  nature,  on  which  depend 
not  only  all  their  secondary  qualities,  but  also  most  of  their  natu- 
ral operations ;  our  want  of  precise  distinct  ideas  of  their  pri- 
mary qualities  keeps  us  in  an  incurable  ignorance  of  what  we 
desire  to  know  about  them.  I  doubt  not  but  if  we  could 
discover  the  figure,  size,  texture,  and  motion  of  the  minute  con- 
stituent parts  of  any  two  bodies,  we  should  know  without  trial 
several  of  their  operations  one  upon  another,  as  we  do  now  the 
properties  of  a  square  or  a  triangle.  Did  we  know  the  mecha- 
nical affections  of  the  particles  of  rhubarb,  hemlock,  opium,  and 
a  man  ;  as  a  watchmaker  docs  those  of  a  watch,  whereby  it 
performs  its  operations,  and  of  a  file,  which,  by  rubbing  on  them 
will  alter  the  figure  of  any  of  the  wheels  ;  we  should  be  able  to 
tell  beforehand,  that  rhubarb  will  purge,  hemlock  kill,  and  opium 
make  a  man  sleep  ;  ns  well  as  a  watchmaker  can,  that  a  little 
piece  of  paper  laid  on  the  balance  will  keep  the  watch  from 
going,  till  it  be  removed;  or  that,  some  small  part  of  it  being 
rubbed  by  a  file,  the  machine  would  quite  lose  its  motion,  and  the 
watch  go  no  more.  The  dissolvingof  silverin  aqua  fortis,  and  gold 
in  aquaregia,  and  not  vice  versa,  would  be  then  perhaps  no  more 
difficult  to  know,  than  it  is  to  a  smith  to  understand  why  tin 
turning  of  one  key  will  open  a  lock,  and  not  the  turning  of 


CH.  III.]  I   STENT  OF  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  101 

another.  But  whilst  we  are  destitute  of  senses  acute  enough  to 
discover  the  minute  particles  of  bodies,  and  to  give  us  ideas  of 
their  mechanical  affections,  we  must  be  content  to  be  ignorant 
of  their  properties  and  way's  of  operation  ;  nor  can  we  be  as- 
sured about  them  any  farther  than  some  few  trials  we  make  are 
able  to  reach.  But  whether  they  will  succeed  again  another 
time  we  cannot  be  certain.  This  hinders  our  certain  knowledge 
of  universal  truths  concerning  natural  bodies  ;  and  our  reason 
carries  us  herein  very  little  beyond  particular  matter  of  fact. 

§  26.    HENCE  NO   SCIENCE  OF  BODIES. 

And  therefore  I  am  apt  to  doubt,  that  how  far  soever  human 
industry  may  advance  useful  and  experimental  philosophy  in 
physical  things,  scientifical  will  still  be  out  of  our  reach ;  be- 
cause we  want  perfect  and  adequate  ideas  of  those  very  bodies 
which  are  nearest  to  us,  and  most  under  our  command.  Those 
which  we  have  ranked  into  classes  under  names,  and  we  think 
ourselves  best  acquainted  with,  we  have  but  very  imperfect  and 
incomplete  ideas  of.  Distinct  ideas  of  the  several  sorts  of  bodies 
that  fall  under  the  examination  of  our  senses  perhaps  we  may 
have ;  but  adequate  ideas,  I  suspect,  we  have  not  of  any  one 
among  them.  And  though  the  former  of  these  will  serve  us  for 
common  use  and  discourse,  yet  whilst  we  want  the  latter,  we 
are  not  capable  of  scientifical  knowledge ;  nor  shall  ever  be 
able  to  discover  general,  instructive,  unquestionable  truths  con- 
cerning them.  Certainty  and  demonstration  are  things  we  must 
not,  in  these  matters,  pretend  to.  By  the  colour,  figure,  taste, 
and  smell,  and  other  sensible  qualities,  we  have  as  clear  and  dis- 
tinct ideas  of  sage  and  hemlock,  as  we  have  of  a  circle  and  a 
triangle  :  but  having  no  ideas  of  the  particular  primary  qualities 
of  the  minute  parts  of  either  of  these  plants,  nor  of  other  bodies 
which  we  would  apply  them  to,  we  cannot  tell  what  effects  they 
will  produce  ;  nor  when  we  see  those  effects  can  we  so  much 
as  guess,  much  less  know,  their  manner  of  production.  Thus 
having  no  ideas  of  the  particular  mechanical  alfections  of  the 
minute  parts  of  bodies  that  are  within  our  view  and  reach,  \\  < 
are  ignorant  of  their  constitutions,  powers,  and  operations  :  and 
of  bodies  more  remote  we  are  yet  more  ignorant,  not  knowing 
so  much  as  their  very  outward  shapes,  or  the  sensible  and  grosser 
parts  of  their  constitutions. 

§  27.    MUCH  LESS  OF  SPIRITS. 

This,  at  first,  will  show  us  how  disproportionate  our  know- 
ledge is  to  the  whole  extent  even  of  material  beings  ;  to  which 
if  we  add  the  consideration  of  that  infinite  number  of  spirits 
that  may  be,  and  probably  are,  which  are  yet  more  remote  from 
our  knowledge,  whereof  we  have  no  cognizance,  nor  can  frame  to 
ourselves  any  distinct  ideas  of  their  several  ranks  and  sorts,  we 
*hall  find  this  cause  of  ignorance  conceal  from  us,  in  an  impene- 

Vol.  II.  14 


10$  EXTENT  OP  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV. 

hable  obscurity,  almost  the  whole  intellectual  world  ;  a  greater 
certainty,  and  more  beautiful  world  than  the  material.  For 
bating-  some  very  Jew,  and  those,  if  I  may  so  call  them,  superficial 
ideas  of  spirit,  which  by  reflection  we  get  of  our  own,  and  from 
thence  the  best  we  can  collect  of  the  Father  of  all  spirits,  the 
eternal  independent  Author  of  them  and  us  and  all  things;  we 
have  no  certain  information,  so  much  as  of  the  existence  of 
other  spirits,  but  by  revelation.  Angels  of  all  sorts  are  naturally 
beyond  our  discovery  :  and  all  those  intelligences  whereof  it  is 
likely  there  are  more  orders  than  of  corporeal  substances,  are 
things  whereof  our  natural  faculties  give  us  no  certain  account 
at  all.  That  there  are  minds  and  thinking  beings  in  other  men 
as  well  as  himself,  every  man  has  a  reason,  from  their  words  and 
actions,  to  be  satisfied  :  and  the  knowledge  of  his  own  mind  can- 
not suffer  a  man,  that  considers,  to  be  ignorant  that  there  is  a  God. 
But  that  there  are  degrees  of  spiritual  beings  between  us  and  the 
great  God,  who  is  there  that  by  his  own  search  and  ability  can 
tome  to  know  ?  Much  less  have  we  distinct  ideas  of  their  differ- 
ent natures,  conditions,  states,  powers,  and  several  constitutions, 
wherein  they  agree  or  differ  from  one  another,  and  from  us. 
And  therefore  in  what  concerns  their  different  species  and  pro- 
perties, we  are  under  an  absolute  ignorance. 

§  28.    SECONDLY,  WANT  OF  A  DISCOVERABLE  CONNEXION  BETWEEN 
IDEAS  WE  HAVE. 

Secondly,  what  a  small  part  of  the  substantial  beings  that  are 
in  the  universe,  the  want  of  ideas  leaves  open  to  our  knowledge, 
we  have  seen.  In  the  next  place,  another  cause  of  ignorance, 
of  no  less  moment,  is  a  want  of  a  discoverable  connexion  be- 
tween those  ideas  we  have.  For  wherever  we  want  that,  we  are 
utterly  incapable  of  universal  and  certain  knowledge  ;  and  are, 
in  the  former  case,  left  only  to  observation  and  experiment: 
which,  how  narrow  and  confined  it  is,  how  far  from  general 
knowledge,  we  need  not  be  told.  I  shall  give  some  few  instan- 
ces of  this  cause  of  our  ignorance,  and  so  leave  it.  It  is  evi- 
dent that  the  bulk,  figure,  and  motion  of  several  bodies  about  us, 
produce  in  us  several  sensations,  as  of  colours,  sounds,  tastes, 
smells,  pleasure  and  pain,  &c.  These  mechanical  affections  of 
bodies  having  no  affinity  at  all  with  those  ideas  they  produce  in 
us  (there  being  no  conceivable  connexion  between  any  impulse 
of  any  sort  of  body  and  any  perception  of  a  colour  or  smell, 
which  we  find  in  our  minds)  we  can  have  no  distinct  knowledge 
of  such  operations  beyond  our  experience  ;  and  can  reason  no 
otherwise  about  them  than  as  effects  produced  by  the  appoint- 
ment of  an  infinitely  wise  agent,  which  perfectly  surpass  our 
comprehensions.  As  the  ideas  of  sensible  secondary  qualities 
which  we  have  in  our  minds,  can  by  us  be  noway  deduced  from 
bodily  causes,  nor  any  conrspondence  or  connexion  be  found 
between  them  and  those  primary  qualities  which  {experience 


CH.  III.]  EXTBH I  OF  ii  L  MAN  KA  OH  LEJK! K .  J  0$ 

shows  us)  produce  them  in  us  ;  so,  on  the  other  side,  the  ope- 
ration of  our  minds  upon  our  bodies  is  its  inconceivable.  How 
any  thought  should  produce  a  motion  in  body  is  as  remote  from 
the  nature  of  our  ideas,  as  how  any  body  should  produce  any 
thought  in  the  mind.  That  it  is  so,  if  experience  did  not  con- 
vince us,  the  consideration  of  the  things  themselves  would  never 
be  able  in  the  least  to  discover  to  us.  These,  and  the  like,  though 
they  have  a  constant  and  regular  connexion,  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  things ;  yet  that  connexion  being  not  discoverable  in. 
the  ideas  themselves,  which  appearing  to  have  no  necessary  de- 
pendence one  on  another,  we  can  attribute  their  connexion  to 
nothing  else  but  the  arbitrary  determination  of  that  all-wise  agents 
who  has  made  them  to  be,  and  to  operate  as  they  do,  in  a  way 
wholly  above  our  weak  understandings  to  conceive. 

§  29.    INSTANCES. 

In  some  of  our  ideas  there  are  certain  relations,  habitudes,  and 
connexions,  so  visibly  included  in  the  nature  of  the  ideas  them- 
selves, that  we  cannot  conceive  them  separable  from  them  by  any 
power  whatsoever.  And  in  these  only  we  are  capable  of  cer- 
tain and  universal  knowledge.  Thus  the  idea  of  a  right-lined 
triangle  necessarily  carries  with  it  an  equality  of  its  angles  to  two 
right  ones.  Nor  can  we  conceive  this  relation,  this  connexion 
or  these  two  ideas,  to  be  possibly  mutable,  or  to  depend  on  any 
nrbitrary  power,  which  of  choice  made  it  thus,  or  could  make  it 
otherwise.  But  the  coherence  and  continuity  of  the  parts  of 
matter  ;  the  production  of  sensation  in  us  of  colours  and  sounds, 
&c.  by  impulse  and  motion  ;  nay,  the  original  rules  and  commu- 
nication of  motion  being  such,  wherein  we  can  discover  no 
natural  connexion  with  any  ideas  we  have  ;  we  cannot  but  ascribe 
them  to  the  arbitrary  will  and  good  pleasure  of  the  wise  archi- 
tect. I  need  not,  I  think,  here  mention  the  resurrection  of  the 
dead,  the  future  state  of  this  globe  of  earth,  and  such  other 
things,  which  are  by  everyone  acknowledged  to  depend  wholly 
on  the  determination  of  a  free  agent.  The  things  that,  as 
far  as  our  observation  reaches,  we  constantly  fmd  to  proceed 
regularly,  we  may  conclude  do  act  by  a  law  set  them  ;  but 
vet  by  a  law  that  we  know  not :  whereby,  though  causes  work 
steadily,  and  effects  constantly  flow  from  them,  yet  their 
connexions  and  dependencies  being  not  discoverable  in  our 
ideas,  we  can  have  but  an  experimental  knowledge  of  them. 
From  all  which  it  is  easy  to  perceive  what  a  darkness  we 
are  involved  in,  how  little  it  is  of  being,  and  the  things  that 
are,  that  we  are  capable  to  know.  And  therefore  we  shall 
do  no  injury  to  our  knowledge,  when  we  modestly  think  with 
ourselves,  that  we  are  so  far  from  being  able  to  comprehend  the 
whole  nature  of  the  universe,  and  all  the  things  contained  in  i*. 
that  \ve  are  not  capable  of  a  philosophical  knowledge  of  the 
bodies  that  are  about  us,  and  make  a  \*irt  of  u* :  concerninc 


101  E'XTENT  OP  HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV. 

their  secondary  qualities,  powers,  and  operations,  we  can  have 
no  universal  certainty.  Several  effects  come  every  day  within 
the  notice  of  our  senses,  of  which  we  have  so  far  sensitive 
knowledge  ;  but  the  causes,  manner,  and  certainty  of  their  pro- 
duction, for  the  two  foregoing  reasons,  we  must  be  content  to 
be  very  ignorant  of.  In  these  we  can  go  no  farther  than  par- 
ticular experience  informs  us  of  matter  of  fact,  and  by  ana- 
logy to  guess  what  effects  the  like  bodies  are,  upon  other  trials, 
like  to  produce.  But  as  to  a  perfect  science  of  natural  bodies 
(not  to  mention  spiritual  beings)  we  are,  I  think,  so  far  from 
being  capable  of  any  such  thing,  that  I  conclude  it  lost  labour 
to  seek  after  it. 

§  30.    THIRDLY,  WANT  OF  TRACING  OUR  IDEAS. 

Thirdly,  where  we  have  adequate  ideas,  and  where  there  is  a 
certain  and  discoverable  connexion  between  them,  yet  we  are 
often  ignorant,  for  want  of  tracing  those  ideas  which  we  have, 
or  may  have ;  and  for  want  of  finding  out  those  intermediate  ideas, 
which  may  show  us  what  habitude  of  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment they  have  one  with  another.     And  thus  many  are  ignorant 
of  mathematical  truths,  not  out  of  any  imperfection  of  their  facul- 
ties, or  uncertainty  in  the  things  themselves ;  but  for  want  of 
application  in  acquiring,  examining,  and  by  due  ways  compa- 
ring those  ideas.     That  which  has  most  contributed  to  hinder 
the  due  tracing  of  our  ideas,  and  finding  out  their  relations,  and 
agreements  or  disagreements  one  with  another,  has  been,  I  sup- 
pose, the  ill  use  of  words.     It  is  impossible  that  men  should 
ever  truly  seek,  or  certainly  discover  the  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment of  ideas  themselves,  whilst  their  thoughts  flutter  about,  or 
stick  only  in  sounds  of  doubtful  and  uncertain  significations. 
Mathematicians  abstracting  their  thoughts  from  names,  and  ac- 
customing themselves  to  set  before  their  minds  the  ideas  them- 
selves that  they  would  consider,  and  not  sounds  instead  of  them, 
have  avoided  thereby  a  great  part  of  that  perplexity,  puddering, 
and  confusion,  which  has  so  much  hindered  men's  progress  in 
other  parts  of  knowledge.     For  whilst  they  stick  in  words  of 
undetermined  and  uncertain  signification,   they  are   unable  to 
distinguish  true   from  false,  certain  from  probable,  consistent 
from  inconsistent,  in  their  own  opinions.     This  having  been 
the  fate  or  misfortune  of  a  great  part  of  men  of  letters,  the  in- 
crease brought  into  the  stock  of  real  knowledge  has  been  very 
little,  in  proportion  to  the  schools,  disputes,  and  writings,  the 
world  has  been  filled  with  ;  whilst  students,  being  lost  in  the 
great  wood  of  words,  knew  not  whereabout  they  were,  how 
far  their  discoveries  were  advanced,  or  what  was  wanting  in 
(heir  own  or  the  general  stock  of  knowledge.     Had  men,  in 
the  discoveries  of  the  material,  done  as  they  have  in  those  of 
the  intellectual  world,  involved  all  in  the  obscurity  of  uncertain 
and  doubtful  ways  of  talking,  volumes  writ  of  navigation  anil- 


CH.  IV. J  OF  THE  REALITY  OP  KNOWLEDGE^  105 

voyages,  theories  and  stories  of  zones  and  tides,  multiplied  and 
disputed  ;  nay,  ships  built,  and  fleets  sent  out,  would  never  have 
taught  us  the  way  beyond  the  line  ;  and  the  antipodes  would 
be  still  as  much  unknown  as  when  it  was  declared  heresj  to 
hold  there  were  any.  But  having  spoken  sufficiently  of  word's, 
and  the  ill  or  careless  use  that  is  commonly  made  of  them,  I" 
shall  not  say  any  thing  more  of  it  here. 

§31.    EXTENT   IN   RESPECT   TO   CNIVERS  U.iX\  . 

Hitherto  we  have  examined  the  extent  of  our  knowledge,  in 
respect  of  the  several  sorts  of  beings  that  are.  There  is  an- 
other extent  of  it,  in  respect  of  universality,  which  will  also 
deserve  to  be  considered ;  and  in  this  regard,  our  knowledge 
follows  the  nature  of  our  ideas.  If  the  ideas  are  abstract, 
whose  agreement  or  disagreement  we  perceive,  Our  knowledge 
is  universal.  For  what  is  known  of  such  general  ideas,  will  be 
true  of  every  particular  thing,  in  whom  that  essence,  i.  e.  that 
abstract  idea  is  to  be  found  ;  and  what  is  once  known  of  such 
ideas  will  be  perpetually  and  for  ever  true.  So  that  as  to 
all  general  knowledge  we  must  search  and  find  it  only  in 
our  minds,  and  it  is  only  the  examining  of  our  own  ideas 
that  furnisheth  us  with  that.  Truths  belonging  to  essences  of 
things,  (that  is,  to  abstract  ideas)  are  eternal,  and  are  to  be 
found  out  by  the  contemplation  only  of  those  essences  :  as  the 
existences  of  things  are  to  be  known  only  from  experience. 
But  having  more  to  say  of  this  in  the  chapters  where  I  shall 
speak  of  general  and  real  knowledge,  this  may  here  suffice  as 
to  the  universalitv  of  our  knowledge  in  sreneral. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

OF  THE  REALITY  OF  KNOWLEDf   I 

^  I.    OBJECTION.       KNOWLEDGE   PI.ACED  IN   IDEAS  MM 
BARE   VISION. 

I  doubt  not  but  my  reader  by  this  time  may  be  apt  to  think, 
that  I  have  been  all  this  while  only  building  a  castle  in  the  air  ; 
and  be.  ready  to  say  to  me,  "  To  what  purpose  all  this  stir  .' 
Knowledge,  say  you,  is  only  the  perception  of  the  agreement 
or  disagreement  of  our  own  ideas  :  but  who  knows  what  those. 
ideas  may  be  ?  Is  there  any  thing  so  extravagant  as  the  imagi- 
nations of  men's  brains?  Where  is  the  head  that  has  no  chime- 
ras in  it  /  Or  if  there  be  a  sober  and  a  wise  man,  what  differ- 
ence will  there  be,  by  your  rules,  between  his  knowledge  and 
that  of  the  most  extravagant,  fancy  in  the  world  ?  They  both 
have  their  ideas,  and  perceive  their  agreement  and  disagree 


JOU  REALITY  OF  KNOWLEDGE,  [BOOK  IV.. 

one  with  another.  If  there  be  any  difference  between  themr 
the  advantage  will  be  on  the  warm-headed  man's  side,  as  having- 
the  more  ideas,  and  the  more  lively :  and  so,  by  your  rules,  he 
will  be  the  more  knowing*.  If  it  be  true,  that  all  knowledge 
lies  only  in  the  perception  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement 
of  our  own  ideas,  the  visions  of  an  enthusiast,  and  the  reason- 
ings of  a  sober  man,  will  be  equally  certain.  It  is  no  matter 
liow  things  are  ;  so  a  man  observe  but  the  agreement  of  his  own 
imaginations,  and  talk  conformably,  it  is  all  truth,  all  certainty. 
Such  castles  in  the  air  will  be  as  strong  holds  of  truth,  as  the 
demonstrations  of  Euclid.  That  an  harpy  is  not  a  centaur  is 
by  this  way  as  certain  knowledge,  and  as  much  a  truth,  as  that 
a  square  is  not  a  circle. 

"  But  of  what  use  is  all  this  fine  knowledge  of  men's  own. 
imaginations  to  a  man  that  inquires  after  the  reality  of  things  ? 
It  matters  not  what  men's  fancies  are ;  it  is  the  knowledge  of 
things  that  is  only  to  be  prized  :  it  is  this  alone  gives  a  value  to 
our  reasonings,  and  preference  to  one  man's  knowledge  over 
another's;  that  it  is  of  things  as  they  really  are,  and  not  of 
dreams  and  fancies." 

§  2.    ANSW.    NOT  SO,  WHERE  IDEAS  AGREE  WITH  THINGS. 

To  which  I  answer,  that  if  our  knowledge  of  our  ideas  termi- 
nate in  them,  and  reach  no  farther,  where  there  is  something 
farther  intended,  our  most  serious  thoughts  will  be  of  little  more 
use  than  the  reveries  of  a  crazy  brain ;  and  the  truths  built 
thereon  of  no  more  weight  than  the  discourses  of  a  man,  who 
sees  things  clearly  in  a  dream,  and  with  great  assurance  utters 
them.  But  I  hope,  before  I  have  done,  to  make  it  evident,  that 
this  way  of  certainty,  by  the  knowledge  of  our  own  ideas,  goes 
a  little  farther  than  bare  imagination  :  and  I  believe  it  will  appear 
that  all  the  certainty  of  general  truths  a  man  has  lies  in  nothing- 
else. 

It  is  evident  the  mind  knows  not  things  immediately,  but  only 
by  the  intervention  of  the  ideas  it  has  of  them.  Our  knowledge 
therefore  is  real,  only  so  far  as  there  is  a  conformity  between 
our  ideas,  and  the  reality  of  things.  But  what  shall  be  here  the 
criterion  ?  How  shall  the  mind,  when  it  perceives  nothing  but 
its  own  ideas,  know  that  they  agree  with  things  themselves  1 
This,  though  it  seems  not  to  want  difficulty,  yet,  I  think,  there 
be  two  sorts  of  ideas,  that,  we  may  be  assured,  agree  with  things. 

\  4.    AS,   1.    ALL  SIMPLE  IDEAS  DO. 

First,  the  first  are  simple  ideas,  which,  since  the  mind,  as  has 
l>een  shown,  can  by  no  means  make  to  itself,  must  necessarily  be 
the  product  of  things  operating  on  the  mind  in  a  natural  way, 
and  producing  therein  those  perceptions  which  by  the  wisdom 


i  H.   IV.]  REALITY  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  107 

and  will  of  our  Maker  they  are  ordained  and  adapted  to.  From 
whence  it  follows,  that  simple  ideas  are  not  lictions  of  our  fan- 
cies, but  the  natural  and  regular  productions  of  things  without; 
us,  really  operating  upon  us,  and  so  carry  with  them  all  the  con- 
formity which  is  intended,  or  which  our  state  requires:  for  they 
represent  to  us  things,  under  those  appearances  which  they  are. 
fitted  to  produce  in  us,  whereby  we  are  enabled  to  distinguish 
the  sorts  of  particular  substances,  to  discern  the  states  they  are 
iu,  and  so  to  take  them  for  our  necessities,  and  to  apply  them  to 
our  uses.  Thus  the  idea  of  whiteness,  or  bitterness,  as  it  is  in  the 
mind,  exactly  answering  that  power  which  is  in  any  body  to  pro- 
duce it  there,  has  all  the  real  conformity  it  can,  or  ought  to  have 
with  things  without  us.  And  this  conformity  between  our  sim- 
ple ideas,  and  the  existence  of  things,  is  sufficient  for  real  know- 
ledge. 

§  5.    2.    ALL  COMPLEX  IDEAS,  EXCEPT  OF  SUBSTANCES. 

Secondly,  all  our  complex  ideas,  except  those  of  substances, 
being  archetypes  of  the  mind's  own  making,  not  intended  to  be 
the  copies  of  any  thing,  nor  referred  to  the  existence  of  any 
thing,  as  to  their  originals ;  cannot  want  any  conformity  neces- 
sary to  real  knowledge.  For  that  which  is  not  designed  to  repre- 
sent any  thing  but  itself,  can  never  be  capable  of  a  wrong  repre- 
sentation, nor  mislead  us  from  the  true  apprehension  of  any 
thing,  by  its  dislikeness  to  it ;  and  such,  excepting  those  of  sub- 
stances, are  all  our  complex  ideas  :  which,  as  I  have  showed  in 
another  place,  are  combinations  of  ideas,  which  the  mind,  by  its 
free  choice,  puts  together,  without  considering  any  connexion 
they  have  in  nature.  And  hence  it  is,  that  in  all  these  sorts  the 
ideas  themselves  are  considered  as  the  archetypes,  and  things  no 
otherwise  regarded,  but  as  they  are  conformable  to  them.  So 
that  we  cannot  but  be  infallibly  certain,  that  all  the  knowledge 
we  attain  concerning  these  ideas  is  real,  and  reaches  things  them- 
selves ;  because  in  all  our  thoughts,  reasonings,  and  discourses 
of  this  kind,  we  intend  things  no  farther  than  as  they  are  confor- 
mable to  our  ideas.  So  that  in  these  we  cannot  miss  of  a  certain 
iind  undoubted  reality. 

§  6.    HENCE  THE  REALITY  OF  MATHEMATICAL   KNOWLEDGE. 

I  doubt  not  but  it  will  be  easily  granted,  that  the  knowledge  we 
have  of  mathematical  truths  is  not  only  certain,  but  real  know- 
ledge ;  and  not  the  bare  empty  vision  of  vain  insignificant  chi- 
meras of  the  brain :  and  yet,  if  we  will  consider,  we  shall  find 
that  it  is  only  of  our  own  ideas.  The  mathematician  considers 
the  truth  and  properties  belonging  to  a  rectangle,  or  circle,  only 
as  they  are  in  idea  in  his  own  mind.  For  it  is  possible  he  never 
found  either  of  them  existing  mathematically,  ».  c.  precisely  true, 
in  his  life.  But  yet  the  knowledge  he  has  of  any  truths  or  pro- 
perties belonging  to  a  circle,  or  any  e/ther  mathematical  figure. 


108  REALITY  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV. 

are  nevertheless  true  and  certain,  even  of  real  things  existing ; 
because  real  things  are  no  farther  concerned,  nor  intended  to  be 
meant  by  any  such  propositions,  than  as  things  really  agree  to  those 
archetypes  in  his  mind.  Is  it  true  of  the  idea  of  a  triangle,  that 
its  three  angles  are  equal  to  two  right  ones  ?  It  is  true  also  of 
a  triangle,  wherever  it  really  exists.  Whatever  other  figure 
exists,  that  is  not  exactly  answerable  to  the  idea  of  a  triangle  in 
his  mind,  is  not  at  all  concerned  in  that  proposition :  and  there- 
fore he  is  certain  all  his  knowledge  concerning  such  ideas  is  real 
knowledge  ;  because  intending  things  no  farther  than  they  agree 
with  those  his  ideas,  he  is  sure  what  he  knows  concerning  those 
figures,  when  they  have  barely  an  ideal  existence  in  his  mind, 
will  hold  true  of  them  also,  when  they  have  real  existence  in 
matter ;  his  consideration  being  barely  of  those  figures,  which 
are  the  same,  wherever  or  however  they  exist. 

§  7.     AND  OF  MORAL. 

And  hence  it  follows,  that  moral  knowledge  is  as  capable  of 
real  certainty  as  mathematics.  For  certainty  being  but  the  per- 
ception of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  our  ideas ;  and 
demonstration  nothing  but  the  perception  of  such  agreement^ 
by  the  intervention  of  other  ideas,  or  mediums  ;  our  moral  ideas, 
as  well  as  mathematical,  being  archetypes  themselves,  and  so 
adequate  and  complete  ideas ;  all  the  agreement  or  disagreement 
which  we  shall  find  in  them  will  produce  real  knowledge,  as  well 
as  in  mathematical  figures. 

§  8.    EXISTENCE  NOT  REQUIRED  TO  MAKE  IT  REAL. 

For  the  attaining  of  knowledge  and  certainty,  it  is  requisite 
that  we  have  determined  ideas;  and,  to  make  our  knowledge 
real,  it  is  requisite  that  the  ideas  answer  their  archetypes.  Nor 
let  it  be  wondered,  that  I  place  the  certainty  of  our  knowledge 
in  the  consideration  of  our  ideas,  with  so  little  care  and  regard 
(as  it  may  -seem)  to  the  real  existence  of  things  ;  since  most  of 
those  discourses,  which  take  up  the  thoughts,  and  engage  the 
disputes  of  those  who  pretend  to  make  it  their  business  to  inquire 
after  truth  and  certainty,  will,  I  presume,  upon  examination  be 
found  to  be  general  propositions,  and  notions  in  which  existence 
is  not  at  all  concerned.  All  the  discourses  of  the  mathemati- 
cians about  the  squaring  of  a  circle,  conic  sections,  or  any  other 
part  of  mathematics,  concern  not  the  existence  of  any  of  those 
figures  ;  but  their  demonstrations,  which  depend  on  their  ideas, 
are  the  same,  whether  there  be  any  square  or  circle  existing  in 
the  world,  or  no.  In  the  same  manner,  the  truth  and  certainty 
of  moral  discourses  abstracts  from  the  lives  of  men,  and  the 
existence  of  those  virtues  in  the  world  whereof  they  treat. 
Nor  are  Tully's  Offices  less  true,  because  there  is  nobody  in  the 
world,  that  exactly  practises  his  rules,  and  lives  up  to  that  pat- 
Tern  of  n  virtuous  man  which  he  has  given  us,  and  which  existed 


Ml.   IV.  |  REALITY  CfF  KN0WEEDGE\  109 

nowhere,  when  he  Writ,  but  in  idea.  If  it  be  true  in  speculation, 
i.  e.  in  idea,  that  murder  deserves  death,  it  will  also  be  true  in 
reality  of  any  action  that  exists  conformable  to  that  idea  of 
murder.  As  for  other  actions,  the  truth  of  that  proposition 
concerns  them  not.  And  thus  it  is  of  all  other  species  of  things, 
which  have  no  other  essences  but  those  ideas  which  are  in  the 
minds  of  men. 

C>  9.    NOR  WILL  IT   BE  r.F.SS  TRUE  OR  CERTAIN-,  BECAUSE  MORAL  IDKAS 
.ARM   OF    OUR   OWN  MAKING   AND  NAMING. 

But  it  will  here  be  said,  that  if  moral  knowledge  be  placed  in 
the  contemplation  of  our  own  moral  ideas,  and  those,  as  other 
modes,  be  of  our  own  making*,  what  strange  notions  will  there 
be  of  justice  and  temperance  !  What  confusion  of  virtues  and 
vices,  if  every  one  may  make  what  ideas  of  them  he  pleases ! 
No  confusion  or  disorder  in  the  things  themselves,  nor  the  rea- 
sonings about  them :  no  more  than  (in  mathematics)  there 
would  be  a  disturbance  in  the  demonstration,  or  a  change  in  the 
properties  of  figures,  and  their  relations  one  to  another,  if  a  man 
should  make  a  triangle  with  four  corners,  or  a  trapezium  with 
lour  right  angles  ;  that  is,  in  plain  English,  change  the  names  of 
the  figures,  and  call  that  by  one  name  which  mathematicians 
call  ordinarily  by  another.  For  let  a  man  make  to  himself  the 
idea  of  a  figure  with  three  angles,  whereof  one  is  a  right  one, 
and  call  it,  if  he  please,  equilaterum,  or  trapezium,  or  any  thing 
else,  the  properties  of  and  demonstrations  about  that  idea  will 
be  the  same,  as  if  he  called  it  a  rectangular  triangle.  I  confess 
the  change  of  the  name,  by  the  impropriety  of  speech,  will  at 
first  disturb  him,  who  knows  not  what  idea  it  stands  for ;  but 
as  soon  as  the  figure  is  drawn,  the  consequences  and  demonstra- 
tion areplainand  clear.  Just  the  same  is  it  in  moral  knowledge, 
let  a  man  have  the  idea  of  taking  from  others,  without  their 
consent,  what  their  honest  industry  has  possessed  them  of,  and 
call  this  justice  if  he  please.  He  that  takes  the  name  here 
without  the  idea  put  to  it,  will  be  mistaken,  by  joining  another 
idea  of  his  own  to  that  name  :  but  strip  the  idea  of  that  name, 
or  take  it  such  as  it  is  in  the  speaker's  mind,  and  the  same  things 
will  agree  to  it,  as  if  you  had  called  it  injustice.  Indeed,  wrong 
names  in  moral  discourses  breed  usually  more  disorder,  because 
they  are  not  so  easily  rectified  as  in  mathematics,  where  the  figure, 
once  drawn  and  seen,  makes  the  name  useless  ami  of  no  force. 
For  what  need  of  a  sign,  when  the  thing  signified  is  present  and 
in  view  ?  But  in  moral  names  that  cannot  be  so  easily  and  shortly 
done,  because  of  the  many  decompositions  that  go  to  the  mak- 
ing up  the  Complex  ideas  of  those  modes.  But  yet  for  all  this, 
miscalling  of  any  of  those  ideas,  contrary  to  the  usual  signifi- 
cation of  the  words  of  that  language,  hinders  not  but  that  \\r 
may  have  certain  and  demonstrative  knowledge  of  their  several 
agreements  and  disagreements;  if  we  will  carefully,  as  iri'mathe- 

Vol    II  •  15 


110  REALITY  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOKtV- 

matics,  keep  to  the  same  precise  ideas,  and  trace  them  in  their 
several  relations  one  to  another,  without  being  led  away  by  their 
names.  If  we  but  separate  the  idea  under  consideration  from 
the  sign  that  stands  for  it,  our  knowledge  goes  equally  on  in  the 
discovery  of  real  truth  and  certainty,  whatever  sounds  we  make 
use  of. 

§    10.       MISNAMING  DISTURBS  NOT  THE  CERTAINTY  OF  THE  KNOWLEDGE. 

One  thing  more  we  are  to  take  notice  of,  that  where  God, 
or  any'  other  lawmaker,  hath  delined  any  moral  names,  there 
they  have  made  the  essence  of  that  species  to  which  that  name 
belongs ;  and  there  it  is  not  safe  to  apply  or  use  them  otherwise  : 
but  in  other  cases  it  is  bare  impropriety  of  speech  to  apply  them 
contrary  to  the  common  usage  of  the  country.  But  yet  even 
this  too  disturbs  not  the  certainty  of  that  knowledge,  which  is 
still  to  be  had  by  a  due  contemplation  and  comparing  of  those 
even  nicknamed  ideas. 

f   11.     IDEAS  OF    SUBSTANCES  HAVE  THEIR  ARCHETYPES  WITHOUT  VS. 

Thirdly,  there  is  another  sort  of  complex  ideas,  which,  being 
referred  to  archetypes  without  us,  may  differ  from  them,  and  so 
our  knowledge  about  them  may  come  short  of  being  real.  Such 
are  our  ideas  of  substances,  which  consisting  of  a  collection  of 
simple  ideas,  supposed  taken  from  the  works  of  nature,  may  yet 
vary  from  them,  by  having  more  or  different  ideas  united  in  them, 
than  are  to  be  found  united  in  the  things  themselves.  From 
whence  it  comes  to  pass,  that  they  may,  and  often  do  fail  of  being 
exactly  conformable  to  things  themselves. 

&    12.      SO   FAR  AS  THEY  AGREE    WITH  THOSE,  SO    FAB.  OUR  KNOWLEDGE 
CONCERNING  THEM  IS  REAL. 

I  say  then,  that  to  have  ideas  of  substances,  which,  by  being 
conformable  to  things,  may  afford  us  real  knowledge,  it  is  not 
onough,  as  in  modes,  to  put  together  such  ideas  as  have  no  incon- 
sistence, though  they  did  never  before  so  exist :  v.  g.  the  ideas 
of  sacrilege  or  perjury,  &c.  were  as  real  and  true  ideas  before  as 
after  the  existence  of  any  such  fact.  But  our  ideas  of  substances 
being  supposed  copies,  and  referred  to  archetypes  without  us, 
must  still  be  taken  from  something  that  does  or  has  existed  ; 
they  must  not  consist  of  ideas  put  together  at  the  pleasure  of 
our  thoughts,  without  any  real  pattern  they  were  taken  from, 
though  we  can  perceive  no  inconsistence  in  such  a  combination. 
The  reason  whereof  is,  because  we  knowing  not  what  real 
constitution  it  is  of  substances,  whereon  our  simple  ideas  de- 
pend, and  which  really  is  the  cause  of  the  strict  union  of  some 
of  them  one  with  another,  and  the  exclusion  of  others ;  there 
are  very  few  of  them  that  we  can  be  sure  are,  or  are  not,  incon- 
sistent in  nature,  any  farther  than  experience  and  sensible  obser- 
vation reach.     Herein  therefore  is  founded  the  reality  of  our 


pH.  IV.]  REALITY  OP  KNOWLEDGE.  Ill 

knowledge  concerning  substances,  that  all  our  complex  ideas  of 
them  must  be  such,  and  such  only,  as  arc  made  up  of  such  sim- 
ple ones  as  have  been  discovered  to  coexist  in  nature.  And  our 
ideas  being  thus  triuvthough  not,  perhaps,  very  exact  copies, 
are  yet  the  subjects  of  real  (as  far  as  we  have  any)  knowledge 
of  them.  Which  (as  has  been  already  shown)  will  not  be  found 
to  reach  very  far:  but  so  far  as  it  does,  it  will  still  be  real  know- 
ledge. Whatever  ideas  we  have,  the  agreement  we  find  they 
have  with  others  will  still  be  knowledge.  If  those  ideas  be  ab- 
stract, it  will  be  general  knowledge.  But  to  make  it  real  con- 
cerning substances,  the  ideas  must  be  taken  from  the  real  exist- 
ence of  things.  Whatever  simple  ideas  have  been  found  to 
coexist  in  any  substance,  these  we  may  with  confidence  join 
together  again,  and  so  make  abstract  ideas  of  substances.  For 
whatever  have  once  had  a  union,  in  nature,  may  be  united  again.- 

5  13.  IN  OUR  INQUIRIES  ABOUT  SUBSTANCES,  WE  MUST  CONSIDER  IDEASV 
AND  NOT  CONFINE  QTJR  THOUGHTS  TO  NAMES,  OR  SPECIES  SUFi'OSF.D 
SET    OtTBV    NAME*. 

This,  if  we  rightly  consider,  and  confine  not  Our  thoughts  and 
abstract  ideas  to  names,  as  if  there  were  or  could  be  no  other 
sorts  of  things  than  what  known  names  had  already  determined, 
and  as  it  were  set  out;  we  should  think  of  things  with  greater 
freedom  and  less  confusion  than  perhaps  we  do.  It  would  pos-, 
sibly  be  thought  a  bold  paradox,  if  not  a  very  dangerous  false- 
hood, if  I  should  say,  that  some  changelings,  who  have  lived 
forty  years  together  without  any  appearance  of  reason,  are  some- 
thing between  a  man  and  a  beast:  which  prejudice  is  founded 
upon  nothing  else  but  a  false,  supposition,  that  these  two  names, 
man  and  beast,  stand  for  distinct  species  so  set  out  by  real  essen- 
ces, that  there  can  come  no  other  species  between  them:  whereas 
if  we  will  abstract  from  those  names,  and  the  supposition  of 
such  specific  essences  made  by  nature,  wherein  all  things  of  the 
same  denominations  did  exactly  and  equally  partake, — if  we. 
would  not  fancy  that  there  were  a  certain  number  of  these 
essences,  wherein  all  things,  as  in  moulds,  were  cast  and  formed, 
— we  should  find  that  the  idea  of  (he  shape,  motion,  and  life  of 
a  man  without  reason,  is  as  milch  a  distinct  idea,  and  makes  as 
much  a  distinct  sort  of  thing's  from  man  and  beast,  as  the  idea  of 
the  shape  of  an  ass  with  reason  would  be  different  from  either 
that  of  man  or  beast,  and  be  a  species  of  an  animal  between  01 
distinct  from  both. 

§    14.    OBJECTION  Ai;A1\st   a  CHANGELING  BF.INC    SOMETHING  BETWEEN 
A   MAN  AND   BEAST,  ANSWERED. 

Here  every  body  will  be  ready  to  ask,   If  changelings  ma\  be 

supposed  s thin-  between  man  and  beast,  pray  what  are  they.' 

1  answer,  changelings,  which  is  as  «oo<l  a  word  to  signify  some- 
thing different  from  the  signifieatiou  of    mart  or  beast,  as  th< 


(1-2  REJ&ilTY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  [BOQKIV-, 

names  ntan  and  beast  are  to  have  significations  different  on.c 
from  the  other.     This,  well  considered,  would  resolve  this  mat- 
ter, and  show  my  meaning  without  any  more  ado.     But  I  am 
not  so  unacquainted  with  the  zeal  of  some  men,  which  enables 
them  to  spin  consequences,  and  to  see  religion  threatened  when- 
ever any  one  ventures  to  quit  their  forms  of  speaking,  as  not  to 
foresee  what  names  such  a  proposition   as  this   is  like  to   be 
charged  with  :  and  without  doubt  it  will  be  asked,  If  changelings 
arc  something  between  man  and  beast,  what  will  become  of  them 
in  the  other  world  ?    To  which  I  answer,  1,  It  concerns  me  not  to 
know  or  inquire.   To  their  own  Master  they  stand  or  fall.    It  will 
make  their  state  neither  better  nor  worse,  whether  we  determine 
any  thing  of  it  or  no.     They  are  in  the  hands  of  a  faithful  Crea- 
tor and  a  bountiful  Father,  who  disposes  not  of  his  creatures 
according  to  our  narrow  thoughts  or  opinions,  nor  distinguishes 
them   according  to    names    and    species    of    our  contrivance. 
And  Ave,  that  know  so  little  of  this  present  world  we  are  in,  may, 
I  think,  content  ourselves  without  being  peremptory  in  defining  ' 
the  different  states  which  creatures  shall  come  into  when  they 
go  off  this  stage.     It  may  suffice  us,  that  he  hath  made  known 
to  all  those  who  are  capable  of  instruction,  discoursing,  and  rea- 
soning, that  they  shall  come  to  an  account,  and  receive  aecorck 
ing  to  what  they  have  done  in  this  body. 
•  r  \  ~ 

But,  secondly,  I  answer,  the  force  of  these  men's  question  (viz, 
will  you  deprive  changelings  of  a  future  state  ?)  is  founded  on 
one  of  these  two  suppositions,  which  are  both  false.  The  first 
is,  that  all  things  that  have  the  outward  shape  and  appearance  of 
a  man  must  necessarily  be  designed  to  an  immortal  future  being- 
after  this  life  :  or,  secondly,  that  whatever  is  of  human  birth 
must  be  so.  Take  away  these  imaginations,  and  such  questions 
will  be  groundless  and  ridiculous.  I  desire  then  those  who  think 
there  is  no  more  but  an  accidental  difference  between  themselves 
and  changelings,  the  essence  in  both  being  exactly  the  same,  to 
consider  wdiether  they  can  imagine  immortality  annexed  to  any 
outward  shape  of  the  body  ?  The  very  proposing  it  is,  I  suppose, 
enough  to  make  them  disown  it.  No  one  yet,  that  ever  I  heard 
of,  how  much  soever  immersed  in  matter,  allowed  that  excellen- 
cy to  any  figure  of  the  gross  sensible  outward  parts,  as  to  affirm 
eternal  life  due  to  it,  or  a  necessary  consequence  of  it ;  or  that 
any  mass  of  matter  should,  after  its  dissolution  here,  be  again 
restored  hereafter  to  an  everlasting  state  of  sense,  perception, 
and  knowledge,  only  because  it  was  moulded  into  this  or  that 
figure,  and  had  such  a  particular  frame  of  its  visible  parts,  Such 
an  opinion  as  this,  placing  immortality  in  a  certain  superficial 
figure,  turns  out  of  doors  all  consideration  of  soul  or  spirit, 
upon  whose  account  alone  some  corporeal  beings  have  hitherto 
been  concluded  immortal,  and  others  not.     This  is  to  attribute 


.  il.   IV. J  REALITY    OF    KtfOWLEDGJ  11^ 

more  to  the  outside  than  inside  of  things  ;  and  to  place  the  ex- 
cellency of  a  man  more  in  the  external  shape  of  his  body,  than 
internal  perfections  of  his  soul :  which  is  but  little  better  than 
to  annex  the  great  and  inestimable  advantage  of  immortality 
and  life  everlasting,  which  he  has  above  other  material  beings, — 
to  annex  it,  I  say,  to  the  cut  of  his  beard,  or  the  fashion  of  his 
coat.  For  this  or  that  outward  mark  of  our  bodies  no  more 
carries  with  it  the  hope  of  an  eternal  duration,  than  the  fashion 
of  a  man's  suit  gives  him  reasonable  grounds  to  imagine  it  will 
never  wear  out,  or  that  it  will  make  him  immortal.  It  will  per- 
haps be  said,  that  nobody  thinks  that  the  shape  makes  any 
thing  immortal,  but  it  is  the  shape  is  the  sign  of  a  rational  soul 
within,  which  is  immortal.  I  wonder  who  made  it  the  sign 
of  any  such  thing  :  for  barely  saying  it  will  not  make  it  so.  It 
would  require  some  proofs  to  persuade  one  of  it.  No  figure 
that  I  know  speaks  any  such  language.  For  it  may  as 
rationally  be  concluded,  that  the  dead  body  of  a  man,  wherein 
there  is  to  be  found  no  more  appearance  or  action  of  life  than 
there  is  in  a  statue,  has  yet  nevertheless  a  living  soul  in  it  be- 
cause of  its  shape,  as  that  there  is  a  rational  soul  in  a  change- 
ling, because  he  has  the  outside  of  a  rational  creature  ;  when  his 
actions  carry  far  less  marks  of  reason  with  them,  in  the  whole 
course  of  his  life,  than  what  are  to  be  found  in  many  a  beast. 

§    16.    MONSTER?. 

But  it  is  the  issue  of  rational  parents,  and  must  therefore  be 
concluded  to  have  a  rational  soul.  I  know  not  by  what  logic 
you  must  so  conclude.  I  am  sure  this  is  a  conclusion  that  men 
nowhere  allow  of.  For  if  they  did,  they  would  not  make  bold, 
as  every  where  they  do,  to  destroy  ill-formed  and  misshaped 
productions.  Ay,  but  these  are  monsters.  Let  them  be  so ; 
what  will  your  drivelling,  unintelligent,  intractable  changeling- 
be  ?  Shall  a  defect  in  the  body  make  a  monster ;  a  defect  in 
the  mind  (the  far  more  noble,  and,  in  the  common  phrase,  the 
far  more  essential  part)  not  ?  Shall  the  want  of  a  nose,  or  a 
neck,  make  a  monster,  and  put  such  issue  out  of  the  rank  of 
men ;  the  want  of  reason  and  understanding,  not  ?  This  is  to 
bring  all  back  again  to  what  was  exploded  just  now:  this  is  to 
place  all  in  the  shape,  and  to  take  the  measure  of  a  man  only 
by  his  outside.  To  show  that,  according  to  the  ordinary  way  of 
reasoning  in  this  matter,  people  do  lay  the  whole  stress  on  the 
figure,  and  resolve  the  whole  essence  of  the  species  of  man  (us 
they  make  it)  into  the  outward  shape,  how  unreasonable  soever 
it  be,  and  how  much  soever  they  disown  it ;  we  need  but  trace 
their  thoughts  and  practice  a  little  farther,  and  then  it  \\  ill  plainly 
appear.  The  well-shaped  changeling  is  a  man,  has  a  rational 
soul,  though  it  appear  not ;  this  is  past  doubt,  say  you.  Make 
the  ears  a  little  longer,  and  more  pointed,  and  the  nose  a  little 
(latter  than  ordinary,  and  then  you  begin  to  boggle  :  make  the 


114  JREALITY  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV. 

face  yet  narrower,  flatter,  and  longer,  and  then  you  are  at  a 
stand  :  add  still  more  and  more  of  the  likeness  of  a  brute  to  it, 
and  let  the  head  be  perfectly  that  of  some  other  animal,  then 
presently  it  is  a  monster  ;  and  it  is  demonstration  with  you  that 
it  hath  no  rational  soul,  and  must  be  destroyed.  Where  now 
(I  ask)  shall  be  the  just  measure  of  the  utmost  bounds  of  that 
shape,  that  carries  with  it  a  rational  soul  ?  For  since  there  have 
been  human  foetuses  produced,  half  beast,  and  half  man  ;  and 
others  three  parts  one,  and  one  part  the  other  ;  and  so  it  is  possi- 
ble they  may  be  in  all  the  variety  of  approaches  to  the  one  or 
the  other  shape,  and  may  have  several  degrees  of  mixture  of 
the  likeness  of  a  man  or  a  brute ;  I  would  gladly  know  what 
are  those  precise  lineaments,  which,  according  to  this  hypothe- 
sis, are,  or  are  not  capable  of  a  rational  soul  to  be  joined  to 
them.  What  sort  of  outside  is  the  certain  sign  that  there  is,  or 
is  not  such  an  inhabitant  within  ?  For  till  that  be  done,  we  talk 
at  random  of  man  :  and  shall  always,  I  fear,  do  so,  as  long  as 
we  give  ourselves  up  to  certain  sounds,  and  the  imaginations  of 
settled  and  fixed  species  in  nature,  we  know  not  what.  But 
after  all,  I  desire  it  may  be  considered,  that  those  who  think 
they  have  answered  the  difficulty  by  telling  us,  that  a  mis- 
shaped foetus  is  a  monster,  run  into  the  same  fault  they  are 
arguing  against,  by  constituting  a  species  between  man  and 
beast.  For  what  else,  I  pray,  is  their  monster  in  the  case  (if 
the  word  monster  signifies  any  thing  at  all)  but  something  neither 
man  nor  beast,  but  partaking  somewhat  of  either  ?  And  just  so 
is  the  changeling  before-mentioned.  So  necessary  is  it  to  quit 
the  common  notion  of  species  and  essences,  if  we  will  truly 
look  into  the  nature  of  things,  and  examine  them,  by  what  our 
faculties  can  discover  in  them  as  they  exist,  and  not  by  ground- 
less fancies,  that  have  been  taken  up  about  them. 

§   17.    WORDS  AND  SPECIES. 

I  have  mentioned  this  here,  because  I  think  we  cannot  be  too 
cautious  that  words  and  species,  in  the  ordinary  notions  which 
we  have  been  used  to  of  them,  impose  not  on  us.  For  I  am 
apt  to  think,  therein  lies  one  great  obstacle  to  our  clear  and  dis- 
tinct knowledge,  especially  in  reference  to  substances  ;  and  from 
thence  has  rose  a  great  part  of  the  difficulties  about  truth  and 
certainty.  Would  we  accustom  ourselves  to  separate  our  con- 
templations and  reasonings  from  words,  we  might,  in  a  great 
measure,  remedy  this  inconvenience  within  our  own  thoughts ; 
but  yet  it  would  still  disturb  us  in  our  discourse  with  others,  as 
long  as  we  retained  the  opinion,  that  species  and  their  essences 
were  any  thing  else  but  our  abstract  ideas  (such  as  they  are) 
with  names  annexed  to  them,  to  be  the  signs  of  them. 

§  18.    RECAPITULATION. 

Wherever  we  perceive  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any 


GH.  V.J  TRUTH  IN  GENERA!  I  |  ;, 

of  our  ideas,  there  is  certain  knowledge  :  and  wherever  we  are 
sure  those  ideas  agree  with  the  reality  of  things,  there  is  certain 
real  knowledge.  Of  which  agreement  of  our  ideas,  with  the 
reality  of  things,  having  here  given  the  marks,  I  think  I  have  shown 
wherein  it  is,  that  certainty,  real  certainty,  consists  :  which,  what- 
ever it  was  to  others,  was,  I  confess,  to  me  heretofore,  one  of 
those  desiderata  which  1  found  great  want  of. 


CHAPTER  V. 

OF   TRUTH  IN  GENERAL 
§   1.    WHAT  TIU'TII  IS. 

^\  hat  is  truth  was  an  inquiry  many  ages  since ;  and  it  being 
that  which  all  mankind  either  do,  or  pretend  to  search  after,  it 
cannot  but  be  worth  our  while  carefully  to  examine  wherein  it 
consists,  and  so  acquaint  ourselves  with  the  nature  of  it,  as  to 
observe  how  the  mind  distinguishes  it  from  falsehood. 

§  2.    A  RIGHT   JOINING  OR  SEPARATING  OF  SIGNS,  1.  €.  IDEAS  OR  WORDS. 

Truth  then  seems  to  me,  in  the  proper  import  of  the  word,  to 
signify  nothing  but  the  joining  or  separating  of  signs,  as  the 
things  signified  by  them  do  agree  or  disagree  one  with  another. 
The  joining  or  separating  of  signs,  here  meant,  is  what  by  ano- 
ther name  we  call  proposition.  So  that  truth  properly  belongs 
only  to  propositions  ;  whereof  there  are  two  sorts,  viz.  mental 
and  verbal ;  as  there  are  two  sorts  of  signs  commonly  made  use 
of,  viz.  ideas  and  words. 

§  3.    WHICH  MAKE  MENTAL  OR  VERBAL  PROPOSITIONS. 

To  form  a  clear  notion  of  truth,  it  is  very  necessary  to  consider 
truth  of  thought  and  truth  of  words,  distinctly  one  from  another : 
but  yet  it  is  very  difficult  to  treat  of  them  asunder;  because  it  is 
unavoidable,  in  treating  of  mental  propositions,  to  make  use  of 
words ;  and  then  the  instances  given  of  mental  propositions  cease 
immediately  to  be  barely  mental,  and  become  verbal.  For  a  men- 
tal proposition  being  nothing  but  a  bare  consideration  of  the  ideas, 
ns  they  are  in  our  minds  stripped  of  names,  they  lose  the  nature 
of  purely  mental  propositions  as  soon  as  they  are  put  into  words. 

v  \.    MENTAL  PROPOSITIONS  ARE  VERY  HARD  TO  BE  TREATED  OF. 

And  that  which  makes  it  yet  harder  to  treat  of  mental  and 
vuhal  propositions  separately  is,  that  most  men,  if  not  all,  in 
i  heir  thinking  and  reasonings  within  themselves,  make  use  of 
words  instead  of  ideas;  at  least  when  the  subject  of  their  medi- 
tation contains  in  it  complex  ideas.     AYhich  is  a  great  evidence 


ill)  TRUTH  IN  GENERAL.  [BOOKiV. 

of  the  imperfection  and  uncertainty  of  our  ideas  of  that  kind, 
and  may,  if  attentively  made  use  of,  serve  for  a  mark  to  show  us 
what  are  those  things  we  have  clear  and  perfect  established  ideas 
of,  and  what  not.  For  if  we  will  curiously  observe  the  way  our 
mind  takes  in  thinking  and  reasoning,  we  shall  find,  I  suppose, 
that  when  we  make  any  propositions  within  our  own  thoughts 
about  white  or  black,  sweet  or  bitter,  a  triangle  or  a  circle,  we 
can  and  often  do  frame  in  our  minds  the  ideas  themselves,  without 
reflecting  on  the  names.  But  when  we  would  consider,  or  make 
propositions  about  the  more  complex  ideas,  as  of  a  man,  vitriol, 
fortitude,  glory,  we  usually  put  the  name  for  the  idea  :  because 
the  ideas  these  names  stand  for  being  for  the  most  part  imperfect, 
confused,  and  undetermined,  we  reflect  on  the  names  themselves 
because  they  are  more  clear,  certain,  and  distinct,  and  readier 
occur  to  our  thoughts  than  the  pure  ideas ;  and  so  we  make 
use  of  these  words  instead  of  the  ideas  themselves,  even  when 
we  would  meditate  and  reason  within  ourselves,  and  make  tacit 
mental  propositions.  In  substances,  as  has  been  already  noticed, 
this  is  occasioned  by  the  imperfection  of  our  ideas ;  we  making 
the  name  stand  for  the  real  essence,  of  which  we  have  no  idea 
at  all.  In  modes,  it  is  occasioned  by  the  great  number  of  simple 
ideas  that  go  to  the  making  them  up.  For  many  of  them  being 
compounded,  the  name  occurs  much  easier  than  the  complex 
idea  itself,  which  requires  time  and  attention  to  be  recollected, 
and  exactly  represented  to  the  mind,  even  in  those  men  who  have 
formerly  been  at  the  pains  to  do  it ;  and  is  utterly  impossible  to 
be  done  by  those,  who,  though  they  have  ready  in  their  memory 
the  greatest  part  of  the  common  words  of  that  language,  yet 
perhaps  never  troubled  themselves  in  all  their  lives  to  consider 
what  precise  ideas  the  most  of  them  stood  for.  Some  confused 
or  obscure  notions  have  served  their  turns,  and  many  who  talk 
very  much  of  religion  and  conscience,  of  church  and  faith,  of 
power  and  right,  of  obstructions  and  humours,  melancholy  and 
choler,  would  perhaps  have  little  left  in  their  thoughts  and  medi- 
tations, if  one  should  desire  them  to  think  only  of  the  things 
themselves,  and  lay  by  those  words,  with  which  they  so  often 
confound  others,  and  not  seldom  themselves  also. 

§  5.    BEING  NOTHING  BUT  THE  JOINING  OR  SEPARATING  IDEAS  WITHOUT 

WORDS. 

But  to  return  to  the  consideration  of  truth :  we  must,  I  say, 
observe  two  sorts  of  propositions  that  we  are  capable  of  making. 

First,  mental,  wherein  the  ideas  in  our  understandings  are 
without  the  use  of  words  put  together,  or  separated  by  the  mind, 
perceiving  or  judging  of  their  agreement  or  disagreement. 

Secondly,  verbal  propositions,  which  are  words,  the  signs  oi 
our  ideas,  put  together,  or  separated  in  affirmative  or  negative 
sentences.  By  which  way  of  affirming  or  denying,  these  signs, 
made  by  sounds,  are  as  it  were  put  together,  or  separated  one 


CIJ.  V.]  TRUTH   IN  GENERAL.  i\'i 

from  another.  So  that  proposition  consists  in  joining  or  sepa- 
rating signs,  and  truth  consists  in  the  patting  together,  or  separa- 
ting those  signs,  according  as  the  things,  which  they  stand  for, 
agree  or  disagree. 

v>  6.       WHEN    MENTAL  PROPOSITIONS  CONTAIN  REAL  TRUTH,  AND  WHEN 

VERBAL. 

Every  one's  experience  will  satisfy  him,  that  the  mind,  either 
Ivy  perceiving  or  supposing  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any 
of  its  ideas,  does  tacitly  within  itself  put  them  into  a  kind  of 
proposition  affirmative  or  negative,  which  I  have  endeavoured  to 
express  by  the  terms  putting  together,  and  separating.       But 
this  action  of  the  mind,  which  is  so   familiar  to  every  thinking 
and  reasoning  man,  is  easier  to  be  conceived  by  reflecting  on 
what  passes  in  us  when  we  affirm  or  deny,  than  to  be  explained 
by  words.     When  a  man  has  in  his  head  the  idea  of  two  lines, 
viz.  the  side  and  diagonal  of  a  square,  whereof  the  diagonal  is 
an  inch  long,  he  may  have  the  idea  also  of  the  division  of  that 
line  into  a  certain  number  of  equal  parts;  v.  g\  into  live,  ten,  a 
hundred,  a  thousand,  or  any  other  number,  and  may  have  the 
idea  of  that  inch  line  being  divisible,  or  not  divisible,  into  such 
equal  parts,  as  a  certain  number  of  them  will  be  equal  to  the 
side-line.     Now  whenever  he  perceives,  believes,  or  supposes 
such  a  kind  of  divisibility  to  agree  or  disagree  to  his  idea  of  that 
line,  he,  as  it  were,  joins  or  separates  those  two   ideas,  viz.  the 
idea  of  that  line,  and  the  idea  of  that  kind  of  divisibility ;  and 
so  makes  a  mental  proposition,  which  is  true  or  false,  according 
as  such  a  kind  of  divisibility,  a  divisibility  into  such  aliquot  parts, 
does  really  agree  to  that  line  or  no.     When  ideas  are  so  put 
together,  or  separated  in  the  mind,  as  they,  or  the  things  they 
•stand  for  do  agree  or  not,  that  is,  as  I  may  call  it,  mental  truth. 
But  truth  of  words  is  something  more ;  and  that  is  the  affirming 
or  denying  of  words  one  of  another,  as  the  ideas  they  stand  for 
agree  oiydisagree  :  and  this  again  is  twofold ;  either  purely  ver- 
bal and  trifling,  which  I  shall  speak  of,  chap.  viii.  or  real  and 
instructive,  which  is  the  object  of  that  real  knowledge  which 
we  have  spoken  of  already. 

§  7.    OBJECTION  AGAINST  VERBAL  TRDTH,  THAT  THUS  IT  MAY  ALL  BE 
CHIMERICAL. 

But  here  again  will  be  apt  to  occur  the  same  don  lit  about 
truth,  that  did  about  knowledge :  and  it  will  be  objected,  that  if 
truth  be  nothing  but  the  joining  and  separating  of  Avoids  in  pro- 
positions, as  the  ideas  they  stand  for  agree  or  disagree  in  men's 
minds,  the  knowledge  of  truth  is  not  so  valuable  a  thing  as  it  is 
taken  to  be,  nor  worth  the  pains  and  time  men  employ  in  tin- 
search  of  it ;  since  by  this  account  it  amounts  to  no  more  than 
the  conformity  of  words  to  the  chimeras  of  men's  brains.  Who 
knows  not  what  odd  notions  many  men's  heads  are  filled  with. 

Vor.  IF.  |6 


118  TRUTH  IN  GENERAL  [BOOK  IV. 

and  what  strange  ideas  all  men's  brains  are  capable  of?  But  if 
we  rest  here,  we  know  the  truth  of  nothing  by  this  rule,  but  of 
the  visionary  words  in  our  own  imaginations ;  nor  have  other 
truth,  but  what  as  much  concerns"  harpies  and  centaurs  as 
men  and  horses.  For  those,  and  the  like%  may  be  ideas  in  our 
heads,  and  have  their  agreement  and  disagreement  there,  as  well 
as  the  ideas  of  real  beings,  and  so  have  as  true  propositions 
made  about  them.  And  it  will  be  altogether  as  true  a  proposi- 
tion to  say  all  centaurs  are  animals,  as  that  all  men  are  animals ; 
and  the  certainty  of  one  as  great  as  the  other.  For  in  both  the 
propositions,  the  words  are  put  together  according  to  the  agree- 
ment of  the  ideas  in  our  minds ;  and  the  agreement  of  the  idea 
of  animal  with  that  of  centaur  is  as  clear  and  visible  to  the 
mind,  as  the  agreement  of  the  idea  of  animal  with  that  of  man, 
and  so  these  two  propositions  are  equally  true,  equally  certain. 
But  of  what  use  is  all  such  truth  to  us  ? 

§  8.    ANSWERED,  REAL   TRUTH  IS  ABOUT  IDEAS  AGREEING  TO  THINGS. 

Though  what  has  been  said  in  the  foregoing  chapter,  to  dis- 
tinguish real  from  imaginary  knowledge,  might  suffice  here,  in  an- 
swer to  this  doubt,  to  distinguish  real  truth  from  chimerical,  or 
(if  you  please)  barely  nominal,  they  depending  both  on  the, 
same  foundation  ;  yet  it  may  not  be  amiss  here  again  to  consi- 
der, that  though  our  words  signify  nothing  but  our  ideas,  yet 
being  designed  by  them  to  signify  things,  the  truth  they  contain, 
when  put  into  propositions,  will  be  only  verbal,  when  they  stand 
for  ideas  in  the  mind,  that  have  not  an  agreement  with  the 
reality  of  things.  And  therefore  truth,  as  well  as  knowledge, 
may  well  come  under  the  distinction  of  verbal  and  real ;  that 
being  only  verbal  truth,  wherein  terms  are  joined  according  to 
the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  ideas  they  stand  for,  with- 
out regarding  whether  our  ideas  are  such  as  really  have,  or  ase 
capable  of  having  an  existence  in  nature.  But  then  it  is  they  con- 
tain real  truth,  when  these  signs  are  joined,  as  our  ideas  agree  ; 
and  when  our  ideas  are  such  as  we  know  are  capable  of  having 
an  existence  in  nature  :  which  in  substances  we  cannot  know, 
but  by  knowing  that  such  have  existed. 

§  9.    FALSEHOOD  IS  THE  JOINING  OF  NAMES*  OTHEttUTS;    THAN   THEIR 
IDEAS   AGREE. 

Truth  is  the  marking  down  in  words  the  agreement  or  disa- 
greement of  ideas  as  it  is.  Falsehood  is  the  marking  down  in 
words  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  ideas  otherwise  than  it 
is.  And  so  far  as  these  ideas,  thus  marked  by  sounds,  agree  to 
their  archetypes,  so  far  only  is  the  truth  real.  The  knowledge 
«if  this  truth  consists  in  knowing  what  ideas  the  words  stand  for, 
and  the  perception  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  those 
iffeas,  according  as  it  is  marked  by  those  words. 


lilt.  VI.  [  UNIVERSAL  PROPOSITIONS,  &C.  119 

§  10.  GENERAL  PROPOSITIONS  TO  BE  TREATED  OK  MORE  AT  LARGE. 

But  because  words  are  looked  on  as  the  great  conduits  of  truth 
and  knowledge,  and  that  in  conveying-  and  receiving  of  truth, 
and  commonly  in  reasoning  about  it,  we  make  use  of  words  and 
propositions  ;  I  shall  more  at  large  inquire,  wherein  the  certainty 
of  real  truths,  contained  in  propositions,  consists,  and  where  if. 
is  to  be  had  ;  and  endeavour  to  show  in  what  sort  of  universal 
propositions  we  are  capable  of  being  certain  of  their  real  truth 
or  falsehood. 

I  shall  begin  with  general  propositions,  as  chose  which  most 
employ  our  thoughts,  and  exercise  our  contemplation.  General 
truths  are  most  looked  after  by  the  mind,  as  those  that  most  en- 
large our  knowledge  ;  and  by  their  comprehensiveness  satisfying 
us  at  once  of  many  particulars,  enlarge  our  view,  and  shorten 
nur  way  to  knowledge. 

§  11.  MORAL  AND  METAPHYSICAL  TRUTH. 

Besides  truth  taken  in  the  strict  sense  beforementioned,  there 
are  other  sorts  of  truth  ;  as,  1.  Moral  truth,  which  is  speaking 
of  things  according  to  the  persuasion  of  our  own  minds,  though 
the  proposition  we  speak  agree  not  to  the  reality  of  things. 
2.  Metaphysical  truth,  which  is  nothing  but  the  real  existence 
of  things,  conformable  to  the  ideas  to  which  we  have  annexed 
their  names.  This,  though  it  seems  to  consist  in  the  very  beings 
of  things,  yet,  when  considered  a  little  nearly,  will  appear  to  in- 
clude a  tacit  proposition,  whereby  the  mind  joins  that  particular 
thing  to  the  idea  it  had  before  settled  with  a  name  to  it.  But 
these  considerations  of  truth,  either  having  been  before  taken 
notice  of,  or  not  being  much  to  our  present  purpose,  it  m?v 
Mifnce  here  only  to  have  mentioned  them. 


CHAPTER  VI, 

OF  UNIVERSAL  PROPOSITIONS,  THEIR  TRUTH  AADCERTAkVlV 

§   I.    TREATING  OF  WORDS  NECESSARY  TO  KN(  U'LEDGE. 

Though  the  examining  and  judging  of  idess  by  themselves, 
the|r  names  being  quite  laid  aside,  be  the  besi  and  surest  way  to 
clear  and  distinct  knowledge;  yet,  througt  the  prevailing  cus- 
tom of  using  sounds  for  ideas,  I  think  it  is  very  seldom  prac- 
tised. Every  one  may  observe  how  common  it  is  for  names  to 
be  made  use  of,  instead  of  the  ideas  themselves,  even  when 
men  think  and  reason  within  their  ow:i  breasts  ;  especially  if  the 
ideas  be  very  complex*  and  made  up  of  a  great  collection  of 
simple  ones.  This  mokes  the  consideration  of  words  and  pro- 
positions so  necessftrjra  part  of  the  treatise  of  knowledge,  thn< 


120  UNIVERSAL  PROPOSITIONS,  [BOOK  IT. 

it  is  very  hard  to  speak  intelligibly  of  the  one  without  explain* 
ing  the  other. 

§  2.  GENERAL  TRUTHS  HARDLY  TO  BE  UNDERSTOOD,  BUT  IIJ  VERBAL 
PROPOSITION'S. 

All  the  knowledge  we  have,  being  only  of  particular  or  general 
truths,  it  is  evident  that  whatever  may  be  done  in  the  former  of 
these,  the  latter,  which  is  that  which  with  reason  is  most  sought 
after,  can  never  be  well  made  known,  and  is  very  seldom  appre- 
hended, but  as  conceived  and  expressed  in  words.  It  is  not 
therefore  out  of  our  way,  in  the  examination  of  our  knowledge, 
to  inquire  into  the  truth  and  certainty  of  universal  propositions. 

§  3.    CERTAINTY   TWOFOLD,  OF  TRUTH  AND  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 

But  that  we  may  not  be  misled  in  this  case,  by  that  which  is 
the  danger  every  where,  I  mean  by  the  doubtfulness  of  terms,  it 
is  fit  to  observe,  that  certainty  is  twofold  ;  certainty  of  truth, 
and  certainty  of  knowledge.  Certainty  of  truth  is,  when  words 
are  so  put  together  in  propositions,  as  exactly  to  express  the 
agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  ideas  they  stand  for,  as  really  it  is. 
Certainty  of  knowledge  is  to  perceive  the  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment of  ideas,  as  expressed  in  any  proposition.  This  we  usually 
call  knowing,  or  being  certain  of  the  truth  of  any  proposition. 

4  4.    NO  PROPOSITION  CAN  BE  KNOWN  TO  BE  TRUE,  WHERE  THE  ESSENCE 
OF  EACH  SPECIES  MENTIONED  IS  NOT  KNOWN. 

Now  because  we  cannot  be  certain  of  the  truth  of  any  gene- 
pal  proposition,  unless  we  know  the  precise  bounds  and  extent 
<tf  the  species  its  terms  stand  for,  it  is  necessary  we  should  know 
flu  essence  of  each  species,  which  is  that  which  constitutes  and 
bounds  it.  This,  in  all  simple  ideas  and  modes,  is  not  hard  to 
do.  For  in  these,  the  real  and  nominal  essence  being  the  same  ; 
or,  which  is  all  one,  the  abstract  idea  which  the  general  term 
stands  br  being  the  sole  essence  and  boundary  that  is  or  can 
be  supposed  of  the  species  ;  there  ean  be  no  doubt,  how  far  the 
species  extends,  or  what  things  are  comprehended  under  each 
term  :  which,  it  is  evident,  are  all  that  have  an  exact  conformity 
with  the  idea  it  stands  for,  and  no  other.  But  in  substances 
wherein  a  real  essence  distinct  from  the  nominal  is  supposed  to 
constitute,  determine,  and  bound  the  species,  the  extent  of  the 
general  word  is  vevy  uncertain  :  because  not  knowing  this  real 
essence,  we  cannot  Wow  what  is,  or  what  is  not  of  that  species  ; 
and  consequently  wVat  may,  or  may  not  with  certainty  be 
affirmed  of  it.  And  ftms  speaking  of  a  man,  or  gold,  or  any 
other  species  of  natural  substances,  as  supposed  constituted  by 
a  precise  and  real  essence,  which  nature  regularly  imparts  to 
every  individual  of  that  kind,  whereby  it  is  made  to  be  of  that 
species,  we  cannot  be  certain  of  the  truth  of  any  affirmation  o; 
negation  made  of  it.     For  mavu  or  gold,  CakeBin  this  sense,  ami 


■i  II.  VI.  j  THEIR  TRUTH  AND  .CERTAIN  i  I  121 

used  for  species  of  dungs  constituted  by  real  essences,  different 
from  the  complex  idea  in  the  mind  of  the  speaker,  stand  for  wo 
know  not  what ;  and  the  extent,  of  these  species,  with  such 
boundaries,  are  so  unknown  and  undetermined,  that  it  is  im- 
possible with  any  certainty  to  affirm,  that  all  men  are  rational,  or 
that  all  gold  is  yellow.  But  where  the  nominal  essence  is  kept. 
to,  as  the  boundary  of  each  species*,  and  men  extend  the  appli- 
cation of  any  general  term  no  farther  than  to  the  particular 
things  in  which  the  complex  idea  it  stands  for  is  to  be  found, 
there  they  are  in  no  danger  to  mistake  the  bounds  of  each  spe- 
cies, nor  can  be  in  doubt,  on  this  account,  whether  any  proposi- 
tions be  true  or  no.  I  have  chosen  to  explain  this  uncertainty 
of  propositions  in  this  scholastic  way,  and  have  made  use  of  the 
terms  of  essences  and  species,  on  purpose  to  show  the  absurdity 
and  inconvenience  there  is  to  think  of  them  as  of  any  other  sort 
of  realities  than  barely  abstract  ideas  with  names  to  them.  To 
suppose  that  the  species  of  things  are  any  thing  but  the  sorting 
of  them  under  general  names,  according  as  they  agree  to  several 
abstract  ideas,  of  which  we  make  those  names  the  signs,  is  to 
confound  truth,  and  introduce  uncertainty  into  all  general  pro- 
positions that  can  be  made  about  them.  Though  therefore  these 
things  might,  to  people  not  possessed  with  scholastic  learning, 
be  treated  of  in  a  better  and  clearer  way ;  yet  those  wrong  no- 
tions of  essences  or  species  having  got  root  in  most  people's 
minds,  who  have,  received  any  tincture  from  the  learning  which 
has  prevailed  in  this  part  of  the  Avorld,  aye  to  be  discovered  and 
removed,  to  make  way  for  that  use  ol'  words  which  should  con- 
vey certainty  with  it. 

§  5.    THIS  MORE  PARTICI  LAU1.Y  CONCERNS  SUBSTANCES. 

The  names  of  substances  then,  whenever  made  to  stand  lor 
species,  which  are  supposed  to  be  constituted  by  real  essences, 
which  we  know  not,  are  not  capable  to  convey  certainty  to  the 
understanding:  of  the  truth  of  general  propositions  made  up  ot 
such  terms,  we  cannot  be  sure.  The  reason  whereof  is  plain  : 
for  how  can  we  be  ^xwa  that  this  or  that  quality  is  in  gold,  when 
we  know  not  what  is  or  is  not  gold  ?  Since  in  this  way  of  speak- 
ing nothing  is  gold  but  what  partakes  of  an  essence,  which  we 
not  knowing,  cannot  know  where  it  is  or  is  not,  and  so  cannot 
he  sure  that  any  parcel  of  matter  in  the  world  is  or  is  not  in  this 
sense  goM  ;  being  incurably  ignorant,  whether  it  has  or  has  uot 
that  which  makes  anything  to  be  called  gold,  j.  e.  t.hnt  real 
essence  of  gold  whereof  we  have  no  idea  at  all :  this  being  as 
impossibTe  for  us  to  know,  as  it  is  tor  a  blind  man  to  tell  in  what 
flower  the  colour  of  a  pjcn>y  is  oa  is  not  to  be  found,  whilst  ho 
has  no  idea  of  the  ookwir  of  a  pansy  at  all.  ()i  it'  we  could 
t  which  is  impossible)  certainly  know  where  a  real 
which  we  know  not,  is;  v.  g.  in  what  parcels  of  matter  the  real 
essence  of  gol  sure,  that  th 


\2S  UNIVERSAL  PROPOSITIONS.  [BOOK  IV 

Quality  could  with  truth  be  affirmed  of  gold  :  since  it  is  impos- 
sible for  us  to  know,  that  this  or  that  quality  or  idea  has  a  ne- 
cessary connexion  with  a  real  essence,  of  which  we  have  no  idea 
at  all,  whatever  species  that  supposed  real  essence  may  be 
imagined  to  constitute. 

~  6.      THE  TRUTH  OF  FEW  UNIVERSAL  PROPOSITIONS    CONCERNING  SUB- 
STANCES IS  TO  BE  KNOWN. 

On  the  other  side,  the  names  of  substances,  when  made  use 
<->f  as  they  should  be,  for  the  ideas  men  have  in  their  minds, 
though  they  carry  a  clear  and  determinate  signification  with 
them,  will  not  yet  serve  us  to  make  many  universal  propositions, 
of  whose  truth  we  can  be  certain.  Not  because  in  this  use  of 
them  we  are  uncertain  what  things  are  signified  by  them,  but 
because  the  complex  ideas  they  stand  for  are  such  combinations 
of  simple  ones,  as  carry  not  with  them  any  discoverable  con- 
nexion or  repugnancy,  but  with  a  very  few  other  ideas. 

§   7.     BECAUSE    COEXISTENCE  OF    IDEAS  IN  FEW  CASES  IS  TO  BE  KNOWN- 

The  complex  ideas,  that  our  names  of  the  species  of  sub- 
stances properly  stand  for,  are  collections  of  such  qualities  as 
have  been  observed  to  coexist  in  an  unknown  substratum,  which 
we  call  substance  ;  but  what  other  qualities  necessarily  coexist 
with  such  combinations  we  cannot  certainly  know,  unless  we 
can  discover  their  natural  dependence  ;  which  in  their  primary 
qualities  we  can  go  but  a  very  little  way  in ;  and  in  all  their  secon- 
dary qualities  we  can  discover  no  connexion  at  all,  for  the  rea- 
sons mentioned,  chap.  iii.  viz.  1.  Because  we  know  not  the  real 
constitutions  of  substances,  on  which  each  secondary  quality 
particularly  depends.  2.  Did  we  know  that,  it  would  serve  us 
only  for  experimental  (not  universal)  knowledge ;  and  reach  With 
certainty  no  farther  than  that  bare  instance :  because  our  under- 
standings can  discover  no  conceivable  connexion  between  any 
secondary  quality  and  any  modification  whatsoever  of  any  of  the 
primary  ones.  And  therefore  there  are  very  few  general  propo- 
sitions to  be  made  concerning  substances,  which  can  carry  with 
them  undoubted  certainty. 

o   8.    IWi'AX.  E  IN  GO\,-. 

All  gold  is  fixed,  is  a  proposition  whose  truth  we  cannot  he 
certain  of,  how  universally  soever  it  be  believed.  For  if,  accord- 
ing to  the  useless  imagination  of  the  schools,  any  one  supposes 
the  term  gold  to  stand  for  a  species  of  things,  set  out  by  nature, 
by  a  real  essence  belonging  to  it,  it  is  evident  he  knows  not  what 
particular  substances  are  of  that  species ;  and  so  cannot,  with 
certamtyj  affirm  any  thing  universally  of  gold.  But  if  he  makes 
gold  stand  for  a  species  determined  by  its  nominal  essence,  let 
the  nominal  essence,  for  example,  be  the  complex  idea  of^al  body 
of  a  certain  yellow  colour,  malleable,  fusible,  ami  heavier  than 


.  it.   VI. J  TIIEUi  TRUTlt  A-KD  CERTAIKTl  .  J  2$ 

any  other  known ;  in  this  proper  use  of  the  word  gold,  there  is 
no  difficulty  to  know  what  is  or  is  not  gqld'.  But  yet  no  other 
quality  can  with  certainty  be  universally  affii  med  or  denied  of  gold, 
but  what  hath  a  discoverable  connexion  or  inconsistency  with 
that  nominal  essence.  Fixedness,  for  example,  having-  no 
tir< ■<  ssary  connexion,  that  we  can  discover,  with  the  colour, 
weight,  or  any  other  simple  idea  of  our  complex  one,  or  with  the 
whole  combination  together;  it  is  impossible  that  we  should  cer- 
tainly know  the  truth  of  this  proposition,  that  all  gold  is  fixed. 

As  there  is  no  discoverable  connexion  between  lixedness  and 
the  colour,  weight,  and  other  simple ideas  of  that  nominal  essence 
of  gold  ;  so  if  we  make  our  complex  idea  of  gold  a  body  yellow, 
fusible,  ductile,  weighty,  and  fixed,  we  shall  be  at  the  same  un- 
certainty concerning  solubility  in  aqua  regia,  and  for  the  same 
reason :  since  we  can  never,  from  consideration  of  the  ideas 
themselves,  with  certainty  affirm  or  deny  of  a  body,  whose  com- 
plex idea  is.  made  up  of  yellow,  very  weighty,  ductile,  fusible, 
and  fixed,  that  it  is  soluble  in  aqua  regia  ;  and  so  on,  of  the  rest 
pf  its  qualities.  I  would  gladly  meet  with  one  general  affirma- 
tion concerning  any  quality  of  gold,  that  any  one  can  certainly 
know  is  true.  It  will,  no  doubt,  be  presently  objected,  is  not 
this  a  universal  proposition,  "all gold  is  malleable?"  To  which 
I  answer,  it  is  a  very  certain  proposition,  if  malleableness  be  a 
part  of  the  complex  idea  the  word  gold  stands  for.  But  then, 
here  is  nothing  affirmed  of  gold,  but  that  that  sound  stands  for 
an  idea  in  which  malleableness  is  contained :  and  such  a  sort  of 
truth  and  certainty  as  this,  it  is  to  say  a  centaur  is  four-footed. 
But  if  malleableness  makes  not  a  part  of  the  specific  essence  "the 
name  of  gold  stands  for,  it  is  plain,  "all  gold  is  malleable"  is  not 
a  certain  proposition.  Because  let  the  complex  idea  of  gold  be 
made  up  of  whichsoever  of  its  other  qualities  you  please,  mal- 
leableness will  not  appear  to  depend  on  that  complex  idea,  nor 
follow  from  any  simple  one  contained  in  it:  the  connexion  that 
malleableness  has  (if  it  has  any)  with  those  other  qualities,  being- 
only  by  the  intervention  of  the  real  constitution  of  its  insensible 
parts;  which,  since  we  know  not,  it  is  impossible  we  should 
perceive  that  connexion,  unless  w  could  discover  that  which 
ties  them  together. 

»   10.    AS   FAR  AS   ANY  SlH:ll   tUF.MSTKM  V.  (    \  N    BE  KNOWN,     SO   FAR    l"M 
VliRSAI.     PROPOSITIONS   MAY   BE  CERTAIN.        RUT   THIS    WHJi  GO    Bl 
LITTLE  WAY,  BEtAl  SE 

The  more,  indeed,  of  these  coexisting  qualities  we  unite  into 
one  complex  idea,  under  one  name,  the  more  precise  and  deter- 
minate we  make  the  signification  of  that  word  ;  but  never  yet 
make  it  thereby  more  capable  of  universal  certainty,  in  respect 
of  other  qualities  not  contained  in  bur  complex  idea  ;  since  we 


124  UNIVERSAL    PROPOSITIONS,  [BOOK  IV. 

perceive  not  their  connexion  or  dependence  on  one  another, 
being  ignorant  both  of  that  real  constitution  in  which  they  are, 
all  founded,  and  also  how  they  flow  from  it.  For  the  chief  part 
of  our  knowledge  concerning  substances  is  not,  as  in  other  things, 
barely  of  the  relation  of  two  ideas  that  may  exist  separately  ; 
but  is  of  the  necessary  connexion  and  coexistence  of  several 
distinct  ideas  in  the  same  subject,  or  of  their  repugnancy  so  to 
coexist.  Could  we  begin  at  the  other  end,  and  discover  what 
it  was,  wherein  that  colour  consisted,  what  made  a  body 
lighter  or  heavier,  what  texture  of  parts  made  it  malleable,  fusi- 
ble, and  fixed,  and  fit  to  be  dissolved  in  this  sort  of  liquor,  and 
not  in  another;  if  (I  say)  we  had  such  an  idea  as  this  of  bodies., 
and  could  perceive  wherein  all  sensible  qualities  originally  con- 
sist, and  how  they  are  produced;  we  might  frame  such  ideas  of 
them  as  would  furnish  us  with  matter  of  more  general  know- 
ledge, and  enable  us  to  make  universal  propositions,  that  should 
carry  general  truth  and  certainty  with  them.  But  whilst  our 
complex  ideas  of  the  sorts  of  substances  are  so  remote  from 
that  internal  real  constitution,  on  which  their  sensible  qualities 
depend,  and  are  made  up  of  nothing  but  an  imperfect  collection 
of  those  apparent  qualities  our  senses  can  discover;  there  can 
be  few  general  propositions  concerning  substances,  of  whose 
real  truth  we  can  be  certainly  assured ;  since  there  are  but  few 
simple  ideas,  of  whose  connexion  and  necessary  coexistence 
we  can  have  certain  and  undoubted  knowledge.  I  imagine, 
among  all  the  secondary  qualities  of  substances,  and  the  powers 
relating  to  them,  there  cannot  any  two  be  named,  whose  neces- 
sary coexistence,  or  repugnance  to  coexist,  can  certainly  be 
known,  unless  in  those  of  the  same  sense,  which  necessarily 
exclude  one  another,  as  I  have  elsewhere  showed.  No  one,  I 
think,  by  the  colour  that  is  in  any  body,  can  certainly  know 
what  smell,  taste,  sound,  or  tangible  qualities  it  has,  nor  what 
alterations  it  is  capable  to  make  or  receive,  on  or  from  other 
bodies.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  sound  or  taste,  &c. 
Our  specific  names  of  substances  standing  for  any  collections 
of  such  ideas,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered,  that  we  can  with  them 
make  very  few  general  propositions  of  undoubted  real  certainty. 
But  yet  so  far  as  any  complex  idea,  of  any  sort  of  substances, 
contains  in  it  any  simple  idea,  whose  necessary  coexistence  with 
any  other  may  be  discovered,  so  far  universal  propositions  may 
with  certainty  be  made  concerning  it :  v.  g.  could  any  one  dis- 
cover a  necessary  connexion  between  malleableness,  and  the 
colour  or  weight  of  gold,  or  any  other  part  of  the  complex  idea 
signified  by  that  name,  he  might  make  a  certain  universal  pro- 
position concerning  gold  in  this  respect ;  and  the  real  truth  of 
this  proposition,  "that  all  gold  is  malleable,"  would  be  as  certain 
as  of  this,  "  the  three  angles  of  all  right-lined  triangles  are  all 
equal  to  tAvo  ris?ht  ones." 


ch«  vi.]  1 111:1  ti   ikc  111  ,i.\ii  (  i.iii.u\n.  i2-> 

■>11.     THE     QlAT.iTir.S     WHICH      M.AKF.    OUR    COMPLEX    IDEAS    OF    SUB- 

arANCES,  detenu  mostly  on  external,  remote,  and  cnperceived 

CAUSES. 

Had  we  such  Ideas  of  substances,  as  to  know  what  real  con- 
stitutions produce  those  sensible  qualities  we  find  in  them,  and 
how  those  qualities  tlowed  from  thence,  we  could,  by  the  specific 
ideas  of  their  real  essences  in  our  own  minds,  more  certainly  find 
out  their  properties,  and  discover  what  qualities  they  had  or  had 
not,  than  we  can  now  by  our  senses  :  and  to  know  the  proper- 
ties of  gold,  it  would  be  no  more  necessary  that  gold  should 
exist,  and  that  we  should  make  experiments  upon  it,  than  it   is 
necessary  for  the  knowing  the  properties  of  a  triangle,  that  a 
triangle  should  exist  in  any  matter  ;  the  idea  in  our  minds  would 
serve  for  the  one  as  well  as  the  other.     But  we  are  so  far  from 
being  admitted  into  the  secrets  of  nature,  that  we  scarce  so 
much  as  ever  approach  the  first  entrance  toward  them.     For  we 
are  wont  to  consider  the  substances  we  meet  with,  each  of  them 
as  an  entire  thing  by  itself,  having  all  its  qualities  in  itself,  and 
independent  of  other  things  ;  overlooking,  for  the  most  part,  the 
operations  of  those  invisible  fluids  they  are  encompassed  with, 
and  upon  whose  motions  and  operations  depend  the  greatest  part 
of  those  qualities  which  are  taken  notice  of  in  them,  and  are 
made  by  us  the  inherent  marks  of  distinction  whereby  we  know 
and  denominate  them.     Put  a  piece  of  gold  any  where  by  itself, 
separate  from  the  reach  and  influence  of  all  other  bodies,  it  will 
immediately  lose  all  its  colour  and  weight,  and  perhaps  malle- 
ableness  too  ;  which,  for  aught  I  know,  would  be  changed  into 
a  perfect  friability.     Water,  in  which  to  us  fluidity  is  an  essen- 
tial quality,  left  to  itself,  would  cease  to  be  fluid.     But  if  inani- 
mate bodies  owe  so  much  of  their  present  state  to  other  bodies 
without  them,  that  they  would  not  be  what  they  appear  to  us, 
were  those  bodies  that  environ  them  removed  ;  it  is  yet  more  so 
in  vegetables,  which  are  nourished,  grow,  and  produce  leaves, 
flowers,  and  seeds  in  a  constant  succession.     And  if  we  look  a 
little  nearer  into  the  state  of  animals,  we  shall  find  that  their  de- 
pendence, as  to  life,  motion,  and  the  most  considerable  qualities 
to  be  observed  in  them,  is  so  wholly  on  extrinsical  causes  and 
qualities  of  other  bodies  that  make  no  part  of  them,  that  they 
cannot  subsist  a  moment  without  them  :  though  yet  those  bodies 
on  which  they  depend  are  little  taken  notice  of,  and  make  no  part 
of  the  complex  ideas  we  frame  of  those  animals.     Take  the  air 
but  for  a  minute  from  the  greatest  part  of  living  creatures,  and 
Ihey  presently  lose  sense,  life,  and  motion.     This  the  necessity 
of  breathing  has  forced  into  our  knowledge.     But  how  many 
other  extrinsical,  and  possibly  very  remote  bodies,  do  the  springs 
of  these  admirable  machines  depend  on,  which  are  not  vulgarly 
observed,  or  so  much  as  thought  on  ;  and  how  many  are  there, 
which  the  severest  inquiry  can  never  discover  !  The  inhabitants 
of  this  spot  of  the  universe,  though  removed  so  manv  millions 
Vol    I!  17 


iZti  UNIVERSAL  PROPOSITIONS,  LB00K  ITi 

of  miles  from  the  sun,  yet  depend  so  much  on  the  duly  tempered 
motion  of  particles  coming  from,  or  agitated  hy  it,  that  were 
this  earth  removed  but  a  small  part  of  the  distance   out  of  its 
present  situation,  and  placed  a  little  farther  or  nearer  that  source 
of  heat,  it  is  more  than  probable  that  the  greatest  part  of  the 
animals  in  it  would  immediately  perish  :  since  we  find  them  so 
often  destroyed  by  an  excess  or  defect  of  the  sun's  warmth, 
which  an  accidental  position,  in  some  parts  of  this  our  little 
globe,  exposes  them  to.     The  qualities  observed  in  a  loadstone 
must  needs  have  their  source  far  beyond  the  confines  of  that 
body  ;  and  the  ravage  made  often  on  several  sorts  of  animals 
by  invisible  causes,  the  certain  death  (as  we  are  told)  of  some 
of  them,  by  barely  passing  the  line,  or,  as  it  is  certain  of  other, 
by  being  removed  into  a  neighbouring  country  ;  evidently  show 
that  the  concurrence  and  operations  of  several  bodies,  with  which 
they  are  seldom  thought  to  have  any  thing  to  do,  is   absolutely 
necessary  to  make  them  be  what  they  appear  to  us,  and  to  preserve 
those  qualities  by  which  we  know  and  distinguish  them.     We 
are  then  quite  out  of  the  way,  when  we  think  that  things  con- 
tain within  themselves  the  qualities  that  appear  to  us  in  them  ; 
and  we  in  vain  search  for  that  constitution  within  the  body  of  a 
fly,  or  an  elephant,   upon  which  depend  those  qualities  and 
powers  we  observe  in  them.     For  which,  perhaps,  to  understand 
them  aright,  we  ought  to  look  not  only  beyond  this  our  earth 
and  atmosphere,  but  even  beyond  the  sun,  or  remotest  star  our 
eyes  have  yet  discovered.     For  how  much  the  being  and  opera- 
tion of  particular  substances  in  this  our  globe  depends  on  causes 
utterly  beyond  our  view,  is  impossible  for  us  to  determine.     We 
see  and  perceive  some  of  the  motions  and  grosser  operations  of 
things  here  about  us  ;  but  whence  the  streams  come  that  keep 
all  these  curious  machines  in  motion  and  repair,  how  conveyed 
and  modified,  is  beyond  our  notice  and  apprehension  :  and  the 
great  parts  and  wheels,  as  I  may  so  say,  of  this  stupendous  struc- 
ture of  the  universe,  may,  for  aught  we  know,  have  such  a  con- 
nexion and  dependence  in  their  influences  and  operations  one 
upon  another,  that  perhaps  things  in  this  our  mansion  would  put 
on  quite  another  face,  and  cease  to  be  what  they  are,  if  some 
one  of  the  stars  or  great  bodies,  incomprehensibly  remote  from 
us,  should  cease  to  be  or  move  as  it  does.     This  is  certain, 
Tilings  however  absolute  and  entire  they  seem  in  themselves,  are 
but  retainers  to  other  parts  of  nature,  for  that  which  they  are 
most  taken  notice  of  by  us.     Their  observable  qualities,  actions, 
and  powers,  are  owing  to  something  without  them  ;  and  there. 
is  not  so  complete  and  perfect  a  part  that  we  know  of  nature, 
which  does  not  owe  the  being  it  has,  and  the  excellencies  of  it, 
to  its  neighbours  ;  and  we  must  not  confine  our  thoughts  within 
the  surface  of  any  body,  but  look  a  great  deal  farther,  to  com- 
jtvelffiTil  perfectly  those  qualities  that  are  in  "\ 


CH.  VI.]  THEIR  TRUTH    \M)  l  I.RTWXTV.  I'27 

§  12. 
If  this  be  so,  it  i.s  not  to  be  wondered,  that  we  have  very  im- 
perfect ideas  of  substances) ;  and  that  the  real  essences,  on  which 
depend  their  properties  and  operations,  are  unknown  to  us.  We 
cannot  discover  so  much  as  that  size,  figure,  and  texture  of  then- 
minute  and  active  parts,  which  is  really  in  them  ;  much  less  the 
different  motions  and  impulses  made  in  and  upouthem  bybodies 
from  without,  upon  which  depends,  and  by  which  is  formed,  tin: 
greatest  and  most  remarkable  part  of  those  qualities  we  observe 
in  them,  and  of  which  our  complex  idea?  of  them  are  made  up. 
This  consideration  alone  is  enough  to  put  an  end  to  all  our  hopes 
of  ever  haying  the  ideas  of  their  real  essences  ;  which  whilst 
we  want,  the  nominal  essences  we  make  use  of  instead  of  them 
will  be  able  to  furnish  us  but  very  sparingly  with  any  general 
knowledge,  or  universal  propositions  capable  of  real  certainty. 

§   13.    JUDGMENT  MAY  REACH  FARTHER,  BUT   THAT  IS  NOT  KXOWLEDGF, 

We  are  not  therefore  to  wonder,  if  certainty  be  to  be  found 
in  very  few  general  propositions  made  concerning  substances  : 
our  knowledge  of  their  qualities  and  properties  goes  very  seldom 
farther  than  our  senses  reach  and  inform  us.  Possibly  inquisi- 
tive and  observing  men  may,  by  strength  of  judgment,  penetrate 
farther,  and  on  probabilities  taken  from  wary  observation,  and 
hints  well  laid  together,  often  guess  right  at  what  experience  has 
not  yet  discovered  to  them.  But  this  is  but  guessing  still  ;  it 
amounts  only  to  opinion,  and  has  not  that  certainty  which  is 
requisite  to  knowledge.  For  all  general  knowledge  lies  only  in 
our  own  thoughts,  and  consists  barely  in  the  contemplation  of  our 
own  abstract  ideas.  Wherever  we  perceive  any  agreement 
or  disagreement  among  them,  there  we  have  general  knowledge  ; 
and,  by  putting  the  names  of  those  ideas  together  accordingly 
in  propositions,  can  with  certainty  pronounce  general  truths. 
But  because  the  abstract  ideas  of  substances,  for  which  their 
specific  names  stand,  whenever  they  have  any  distinct  and  de- 
terminate signification,  have  a  discoverable  connexion  or  incon- 
sistency with  but  a  very  few  other  ideas;  the  certainty  of  uni- 
versal propositions  concerning  substances  is  very  narrow  and 
scanty  in  that  part,  which  is  our  principal  inquiry  concerniiii; 
them  ;  and  there  are  scarce  any  of  the  names  of  substances,  let 
the  idea  it  is  applied  to  be  what  it  will,  of  which  we  can  gene- 
rally and  with  certainty  pronounce,  that  it  has  or  has  not  this  or 
that  other  quality  belonging  to  it,  and  constantly  coexisting  or 
inconsistent  with  that  idea,  wherever  it  is  to  be  found. 

§    14.      WHAT  IS  REQUISITE  roll  OIR  KNOWLEDGE  ol    si  BSTAJYCES. 

Before  we  can  have  any  tolerable  knowledge  of  this  kind,  we 
must  first  know  what  changes  the  primary  qualities  of  one  body 
do  regularly  produce  in  the  primary  qualities  of  another,  and 
!im\      Secondly,  we  must  know  whal  primary  qualities  of  any 


[28  fNIVERSAL  PROPOSITIONS.  J  book  n 

body  produce  certain  sensations  or  ideas  in  us.  This  is  in  truth 
no  less  than  to  know  all  the1  effects  of  matter,  under  its  divers 
modifications  of  bulk,  figure,  cohesion  of  parts,  motion  and  rest. 
Which,  I  think,  every  body  will  allow,  is  utterly  impossible  to  be 
known  by  us  without  revelation.  Nor  if  it  were  revealed  to  us, 
what  sort  of  figure,  bulk,  and  motion  of  corpuscles,  would  pro- 
duce in  us  the  sensation  of  a  yellow  colour,  and  what  sort  of 
figure,  bulk,  and  texture  of  parts,  in  the  superficies  of  any  body, 
were  fit  to  give  such  corpuscles  their  due  motion  to  produce  that 
colour ;  would  that  be  enough  to  make  universal  propositions 
with  certainty,  concerning  the  several  sorts  of  them,  unless  we 
had  faculties  acute  enough  to  perceive  the  precise  bulk,  figure, 
texture,  and  motion  of  bodies  in  those  minute  parts,  by  which 
they  operate  on  our  senses,  so  that  we  might  by  those  frame  our 
abstract  ideas  of  them.  I  have  mentioned  here  only  corporeal 
substances,  whose  operations  seem  to  lie  more  level  to  our  under- 
standings :  for  as  to  the  operations  of  spirits,  both  their  thinking 
and  moving  of  bodies,  we  at  fust  sight  find  ourselves  at  a  loss  ; 
though,  perhaps,  when  we  have  applied  our  thoughts  a  little 
nearer  to  the  consideration  of  bodies,  and  their  operations,  and 
examined  how  far  our  notions,  even  in  these,  reach,  with  an)7 
clearness,  beyond  sensible  matter  of  fact,  we  shall  be  bound  to 
confess,  that  even  in  these  too  our  discoveries  amount  to  very 
little  beyond  perfect  ignorance  and  incapacity. 

§  15.  WHILST  OUR  IDEAS  OF  SUBSTANCES  CONTAIN  NOT  THEIR  REAL  CON- 
STITUTIONS, WE  CAN  MAKE  BUT  FEW  GENERAL  CERTAIN  PROPOSITIONS 
CONCERNING   THEM. 

This  is  evident,  the  abstract  complex  ideas  of  substances,  for 
which  their  general  names  stand,  not  comprehending  their  real 
constitutions,  can  afford  us  very  little  universal  certainty.  Be- 
cause our  ideas  of  them  are  not  made  up  of  that,  on  which  those 
qualities  we  observe  in  them,  and  would  inform  ourselves  about, 
do  depend,  or  with  which  they  have  any  certain  connexion :  v.  g. 
let  the  ideas  to  which  we  give  the  name  man  be,  as  it  commonly 
is,  a  body  of  the  ordinary  shape,  with  sense,  voluntary  motion, 
and  reason  joined  to  it.  This  being  the  abstract  idea,  and  conse- 
quently the  essence  of  our  species  man,  we  can  make  but  very 
lew  general  certain  propositions  concerning  man,  standing  for 
such  an  idea.  Because  not  knowing  the  real  constitution  on 
which  sensation,  power  of  motion,  and  reasoning  with  that  pe- 
culiar shape,  depend,  and  whereby  they  are  united  together  in 
the  same  subject,  there  are  very  few  other  qualities  with  which 
we  can  perceive  them  to  have  a  necessary  connexion:  and 
therefore  we  cannot  with  .certainty  affirm,  that  all  men  sleep  by 
intervals ;  that  no  man  can  be  nourished  by  wood  or  stones  ; 
that  all  men  will  be  poisoned  by  hemlock ;  because  these  ideas 
have  no  connexion  or  repugnancy  with  this  our  nominal  essence 
of  man,  with  this  abstract  idea  that  name  stands  for.     We  must. 


i  il.   VII.]  MAXIMS.  129 

in  these  and  the  like  appeal  to  trial  in  particular  subjects,  which 
can  reach  but  a  little  way.  We  must  content  ourselves  with 
probability  in  the  rest ;  but  can  have  no  general  certainty,  whilst 
our  specific  idea  of  man  contains  not  that  real  constitution, 
which  is  the  root,  wherein  all  his  inseparable  qualities  are  united, 
and  from  whence  they  Mow.  Whilst  our  idea,  the  word  man 
stands  for,  is  only  an  imperfect  collection  of  some  sensible  qua- 
lities and  powers  in  him,  there  is  no  discernible  connexion  or 
repugnance  between  our  specific  idea  and  the  operation  of  either 
the  parts  of  hemlock  or  stones  upon  his  constitution.  There 
are  animals  that  safely  eat  hemlock,  and  others  that  are  nourished 
by  wood  and  stones :  but  as  long  as  we  want  ideas  of  those  real 
constitutions  of  different  sorts  of  animals,  whereon  these  and 
the  like  qualities  and  powers  depend,  we  must  not  hope  to  reach 
certainty  in  universal  propositions  concerning  them.  Those  Jew 
ideas  only,  which  have  a  discernible  connexion  with  our  nomi- 
nal essence,  or  any  part  of  it,  can  afford  us  such  propositions. 
But  these  are  so  few,  and  of  so  little  moment,  that  we  may  justly 
look  on  our  certain  general  knowledge  of  substances  as  almost 
none  at  all. 

§   16.      WHERETN  LIES  THE  GENERAL  CERTAINTY  OF  PROPOSITIONS. 

To  conclude;  general  propositions,  of  what  kind  soever,  are 
then  only  capable  of  certainty,  when  the  terms  used  in  them 
stand  for  such  ideas,  whose  agreement  or  disagreement,  as  there 
expressed,  is  capable  to  be  discovered  by  us.  And  we  are  then 
certain  of  their  truth  or  falsehood,  when  we  perceive  the  ideas 
the  terms  stand  for  to  agree  or  not  agree,  according  as  they 
are  affirmed  or  denied  one  of  another.  Whence  we  may  take 
notice,  that  general  certainty  is  never  to  be  found  but  in  our 
ideas.  Whenever  we  go  to  seek  it  elsewhere  in  experiment,  or 
observations  without  us,  our  knowledge  goes  not  beyond  parti- 
culars. It  is  the  contemplation  of  our  own  abstract  ideas  that 
alone  is  able  to  afford  us  general  knowledge. 

V  — ; L 

CHAPTER  VII. 

OF  MAXIMS. 

§    1.    TilEY    ARE   SEI.F-EVILENT. 

THERE  are  a  sort  of  propositions,  which  under  the  name  of 
inaxims  and  axioms  have  passed  for  principles  of  science  ;  and 
because  they  are  self-evident,  haVe  been  supposed  innate, 
although  nobody  (that  I  know)  ever  went  about  to  show  the 
reason  and  foundation  of  their  clearness  orcogency.  It  may, 
however,  be  worth  while,  to  inquire  into  the  reason  of  their  evi- 
dence, and  see  whether  it  be  peculiar  to  them  alone;  and  also 
examine  how  farther  influence  and  govern  our  other  knowl< 


130  MAXIMS.  [BOOK  IV. 

§  2.    WHEREIN  THAT  SELF-EVIDENCE  CONSISTS. 

Knowledge,  as  has  been  shown,  consists  in  the  perception  ot 
the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  ideas :  noAV  where  that  agree- 
ment or  disagreement  is  perceived  immediately  by  itself,  without 
the  intervention  or  help  of  any  other,  there  our  knowledge  is 
self-evident.  This  will  appear  to  be  so  to  any  one,  who  will 
but  consider  any  of  those  propositions,  which,  without  any 
proof,  he  assents  to  at  first  sight :  for  in  all  of  them  he  will  find, 
that  the  reason  of  his  assent  is  from  that  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment, which  the  mind,  by  an  immediate  comparing  them  finds 
in  those  ideas  answering  the  affirmation  or  negation  in  the  pro- 
position. 

§  3.     SELF-EVIDENCE  NOT   PECULIAR  TO  RECEIVED  AXIOMS. 

This  being  so,  in  the  next  place  let  us  consider,  whether  this 
self-evidence  be  peculiar  only  to  those  propositions  which  com- 
monly pass  under  the  name  of  maxims,  and  have  the  dignity  of 
axioms  allowed  them.  And  here  it  is  plain,  that  several  other 
truths,  not  allowed  to  be  axioms,  partake  equally  with  them  in 
this  self-evidence.  This  we  shall  see,  if  we  go  over  these  seve- 
ral sorts  of  agreement  or  disagreement  of  ideas,  which  I  have 
above  mentioned,  viz.  identity,  relation,  coexistence,  and  real 
existence ;  which  will  discover  to  us,  that  not  only  those  few 
propositions,  which  have  had  the  credit  of  maxims,  are  self- 
evident,  but  a  great  many,  even  almost  an  infinite  number  o*' 
other  propositions  are  such. 

§  4.     1.  AS  TO  IDENTITY  AND  DIVERSITY,  ALL  PROPOSITIONS  ARE 
EQUALLY  SELF-EVIDENT. 

For,  first,  the  immediate  perception  of  the  agreement  or  dis- 
agreement of  identity,  being  founded  in  the  mind's  having  dis- 
tinct ideas,  this  affords  us  as  many  self-evident  propositions  as  we 
have  distinct  ideas.  Every  one,  that  has  any  knowledge  at  all, 
has,  as  the  foundation  of  it,  various  and  distinct  ideas  :  and  it  is 
the  first  act  of  the  mind  (without  which  it  can  never  be  capable 
of  any  knowledge)  to  know  every  one  of  its  ideas  by  itself,  and 
distinguish  it  from  others.  Every  one  finds  in  himself,  that  he 
knows  the  ideas  he  has  ;  that  he  knows  also  when  any  one  is  in 
his  understanding,  and  what  it  is  ;  and  that  when  more  than  one 
are  there,  he  knows  them  distinctly  and  unconfuscdly  one  from 
another.  Which  always  being  so  (it  being  impossible  but  that 
he  should  perceive  what  he  perceives)  he  can  never  be  in  doubt 
when  any  idea  is  in  his  mind,  that  it  is  there,  and  is  that  idea  it  is ; 
and  that  two  distinct  ideas,  when  they  are  in  his  mind,  are  there, 
and  are  not  one  and  the  same  idea.  So  that  all  such  affirma- 
tions and  negations  are  made  without  any  possibility  of  doubt, 
uncertainty,  or  hesitation,  and  must  necessarily  be  assented  to 
as  soon  as  understood  ;  that  is,  as  soon  as  we  have  in  our  minds 
deterfained  ideas,  which  the  terms  in  the  proposition  stand  for. 


CH.  VII. J  MAXIMS.  131 

And  therefore  whenever  the  mind  with  attention  considers 
any  proposition,  so  as  to  perceive  the  two  ideas  signified  by  the 
terms,  and  affirmed  or  denied  one  of  the  other,  to  be  the  same 
or  different  ;  it  is  presently  and  infallibly  certain  of  the  truth  of 
such  a  proposition,  and  this  equally,  whether  these  propositions 
be  in  terms  standing  for  more  general  ideas,  or  such  as  are  less 
so,  v.  g.  whether  the  general  idea  of  being  be  affirmed  of  itself, 
as  in  this  proposition,  whatsoever  is,  is  ;  or  a  more  particular  idea 
be  affirmed  of  itself,  as  a  man  is  a  man  ;  or,  whatsoever  is  white  is 
white  ;  or  whether  the  idea  of  being  in  general  be  denied  of  not 
being,  which  is  the  only  (if  I  may  so  call  it)  idea  different  from  it, 
as  in  this  other  proposition,  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to 
be,  and  not  to  be  ;  or  any  idea  of  any  particular  being  be  denied 
of  another  different  from  it,  as,  a  man  is  not  a  horse  ;  red  is  not 
blue.  The  difference  of  the  ideas,  as  soon  as  the  terms  are 
understood,  makes  the  truth  of  the  proposition  presently  visible, 
and  that  with  an  equal  certainty  and  easiness  in  the  less  as  well 
as  the  more  general  propositions,  and  all  for  the  same  reason,  viz. 
because  the  mind  perceives,  in  any  ideas  that  it  has,  the  same  idea 
to  be  the  same  with  itself;  and  two  different  ideas  to  be  different,  and 
not  the  same .  And  this  it  is  equally  certain  of,  whether  these  ideas 
be  more  or  less  general,  abstract,  and  comprehensive.  It  is  not 
therefore  alone  to  these  two  general  propositions,  whatsoever  is, 
is  ;  and  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be  ; 
that  this  sort  of  self-evidence  belongs  by  any  peculiar  right. 
The  perception  of  being,  or  not  being,  belongs  no  more  to  these 
vague  ideas,  signified  by  the  terms  whatsoever  and  thing,  than  it 
does  to  any  other  ideas.  These  two  general  maxims,  amount- 
ing to  no  more  in  short  but  this,  that  the  same  is  the  same,  and 
same  is  not  different,  are  truths  known  in  more  particular  in- 
stances, as  well  as  in  those  general  maxims,  and  known  also  in 
particular  instances,  before  these  general  maxims  are  ever 
thought  on,  and  draw  all  their  force  from  the  discernment  of  the 
mind  employed  about  particular  ideas.  There  is  nothing  more 
visible  than  that  the  mind,  without  the  help  of  any  proof,  or  re- 
flection on  either  of  these  general  propositions,  perceives  so 
dearly,  and  knows  so  certainly,  that  the  idea  of  white  is  the 
i'l»a  of  white,  and  not  the  idea  of  blue ;  and  that  the  idea  of 
white,  when  it  is  in  the  mind,  is  there,  and  is  not  absent ;  that 
the  consideration  of  these  axioms  can  add  nothing  to  the  evi- 
dence or  certainty  of  its  knowledge.  Just  so  it  is  (as  every  one 
may  experiment  in  himself)  in  all  the  ideas  a  man  has  in  his 
mind  :  he  knows  each  to  be  itself,  and  not  to  be  another;  and 
to  be  in  his  mind,  and  not  away  when  it  is  there,  with  a  certainty 
that  cannot  be  greater;  and  therefore  the  truth  of  no  general 
proposition  can  be  known  with  a  greater  certainty,  nor  add  any 
thing  to  this.  So  that  in  respect  of  identity,  our  intuitive  know- 
ledge reaches  as  far  as  our  ideas ;  and  we  are  capable  of  making 
as  mam  self-evident  propositions  as  wc  have  names  for  distinct 


lol  MAXIMS.  [BOOK  It', 

ideas.  And  I  appeal  to  every  one's  own  mind,  whether  this 
proposition,  a  circle  is  a  circle,  be  not  as  self-evident  a  proposi- 
tion, as  that  consisting  of  more  general  terms,  whatsoever  is,  is  ? 
and  again,  whether  this  proposition,  blue  is  not  red,  be  not  a 
proposition  that  the  mind  can  no  more  doubt  of,  as  soon  as  it 
understands  the  words,  than  it  does  of  that  axiom,  it  is  impossi- 
ble for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be  ?  and  so  of  all  the 
like. 

§  5.    2.  IN  COEXISTENCE  WE  HAVE  FEW  SELF-EVIDENT  PROPOSITIONS. 

Secondly,  as  to  coexistence,  or  such  necessary  connexion 
between  two  ideas,  that,  in  the  subject  where  one  of  them  is 
supposed,  there  the  other  must  necessarily  be  also  :  of  such 
agreement  or  disagreement  as  this  the  mind  has  an  immediate 
perception  but  in  very  few  of  them.  And  therefore  in  this  sort 
we  have  but  very  little  intuitive  knowledge ;  nor  are  there  to  be 
found  very  many  propositions  that  are  self-evident,  though  some 
there  are  ;  v.  g.  the  idea  of  filling  a  place  equal  to  the  contents 
of  its  superficies,  being  annexed  to  our  idea  of  body,  I  think  it 
is  a  self-evident  proposition,  that  two  bodies  cannot  be  in  the 
same  place. 

§  6.  3;  IN  OTHER  RELATIONS  WE  MAY  HAVE. 

Thirdly,  as  to  the  relations  of  modes,  mathematicians  have 
framed  many  axioms  concerning  that  one  relation  of  equality. 
As,  equals  taken  from  equals,  the  remainder  will  be  equal ; 
which,  with  the  rest  of  that  kind,  however  they  are  received 
for  maxims  by  the  mathematicians,  and  are  unquestionable 
truths ;  yet,  I  think,  that  any  one  who  considers  them  will  not 
find,  that  they  have  a  clearer  self-evidence  than  these,  that  one 
and  one  are  equal  to  two  ,  that  if  you  take  from  the  five  fingers 
of  one  hand  two,  and  from  the  five  fingers  of  the  other  hand 
two,  the  remaining  numbers  will  be  equal.  These  and  a  thou- 
sand other  such  propositions  may  be  found  in  numbers,  which, 
at  the  very  first  hearing,  force  the  assent,  and  carry  with  them 
an  equal,  if  not  greater  clearness,  than  those  mathematical 
axioms. 

§  7.    4.  CONCERNING  REAL  EXISTENCE  WE  HAVE  NONE. 

Fourthly,  as  to  real  existence,  since  that  has  no  connexion 
with  any  other  of  our  ideas,  but  that  of  ourselves,  and  of  a  first 
being,  we  have  in  that,  concerning  the  real  existence  of  all  other 
beings,  not  so  much  as  demonstrative,  much  less  a  self-evident 
knowledge ;  and  therefore  concerning  those  there  are  no 
maxims. 

§8.    THESE    AXIOMS  DO  NOT  MUCH   INFLUENCE  OUR  OTHER  KNOWLEDGE. 

Iii  the  next  place  let  us  consider  what  influence  these  received 
maxims  have  upon  the  other  parts  of  our  knowledge.     The 


.  U.  VII.  J  kTA  EMM'S.  1  Sii 

rules  established  in  the  schools,  that  all  reasonings  are  ex  prcc- 
cognitis  et  pracGncessis,  seem  to  lay  the  foundation  of  all  other 
knowledge  in  these  maxims,  and  to  suppose  them  to  be  prcecog- 
nita ;  whereby,  1  think,  are  meant  these  two  things:  first,  that 
these  axioms  are  those  truths  that  are  first  known  to  the  mind. 
And,  secondly,  that  upon  them  the  other  parts  of  our  knowledge 
depend. 

§9.  because:  they  are  \ot  the  truths  we  first  knew. 

First,  that  they  are  not  the  truths  first  known  to  the  mind,  is" 
evident  to  experience,  as  we  have  shown  in  another  place,  book 
i.  chap.  ii.  Who  perceives  not  that  a  child  certainly  knows 
that  a  stranger  is  not  its  mother,  that  its  sucking-bottle  is  not 
the  rod,  long  before  he  knows  that  it  is  impossible  for  the  same 
thing  to  be  and  not  to  be  ?  And  how  many  truths  are  there  about 
numbers,  which  it  is  obvious  to  observe  that  the  mind  is  perfectly 
acquainted  with,  and  fully  convinced  of,  before  it  ever  thought 
on  these  general  maxims,  to  which  mathematicians,  in  their 
arguings,  do  sometimes  refer  them  !  Whereof  the  reason  is  very 
plain  ;  for  that  which  makes  the  mind  assent  to  such  proposi- 
tions being  nothing  else  but  the  perception  it  has  of  the  agree- 
ment or  disagreement  of  its  ideas,  according  as  it  finds  them 
affirmed  or  denied  one  of  another,  in  words  it  understands  ;  and 
every  idea  being  known  to  be  what  it  is,  and  every  two  distinct  ideas 
being  known  not  be  the  same  ;  it  must  necessarily  follow,  that 
such  self-evident  truths  must  be  first  known,  which  consist  of 
ideas  that  are  first  in  the  mind  :  and  the  ideas  first  in  the  mind,  it 
is  evident,  are  those  of  particular  things,  from  whence,  by  slow 
degrees,  the  understanding  proceeds  to  some  few  general  ones  ; 
which  being  taken  from  the  ordinary  and  familiar  objects  of 
sense,  are  settled  in  the  mind,  with  general  names  to  them. 
Thus  particular  ideas  are  first  received  and  distinguished,  and 
so  knowledge  got  about  them  ;  and  next  to  them,  the  less  gene- 
ral or  specific,  which  are  next  to  particular :  for  abstract  ideas 
are  not  so  obvious  or  easy  to  children,  or  the  yet  unexercised 
mind,  as  particular  ones,  if  they  seem  so  to  grown  men,  it  is 
only  because  by  constant  and  familiar  use  they  are  made  so. 
For  when  we  nicely  reflect  upon  them,  we  shall  find,  that  gene- 
ral ideas  are  fictions  and  contrivances  of  the  mind,  that  carry 
difficulty  with  them,  and  do  not  so  easily  offer  themselves  as  we 
are  apt  to  imagine.  For  example,  does  it  not  require  some  pains 
and  skill  to  form  the  general  idea  of  a  triangle  (which  is  yet 
none  of  the  most  abstract,  comprehensive,  and  difficult  ?)  for  it. 
must  be  neither  oblique  nor  rectangle,  neither  equilateral,  equi- 
crural,  nor  scalenon ;  but  all  and  none  of  these  at  once.  In 
effect,  it  is  something  imperfect,  that  cannot  exist  ;  an  idea 
wherein  some  parts  of  several  different  and  inconsistent  ideas 
are  put  together.  It  is  true,  the  mind,  in  this  imperfect  state, 
has  need  of  such  ideas,  and  makes  all  the  haste  to  them  it  can. 

Vol.  Tl  18 


134  MAXIMS.  [B09K  IV. 

for  the  eonveniency  of  communication  and  enlargement  of 
knowledge;  to  both  which  it  is  naturally  very  much  inclined. 
But  yet  one  has  reason  to  suspect  such  ideas  are  marks  of 
our  imperfection  ;  at  least  this  is  enough  to  show,  that  the  most 
abstract  and  general  ideas  are  not  those  that  the  mind  is  first 
and  most  easily  acquainted  with,  not  such  as  its  earliest  know- 
ledge is  conversant  about. 

§  10.  BECAUSE  ON  THEM  THE  OTHER  PARTS  OF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE  DO 
NOT  DEPEND. 

Secondly,  from  what  has  been  said  it  plainly  follows,  that 
these  magnified  maxims  are  not  the  principles  and  foundations 
of  all  our  other  knowledge.  For,  if  there  be  a  great  many  other 
truths,  which  have  as  much  self-evidence  as  they,  and  a  great 
many  that  we  know  before  them,  it  is  impossible  they  should 
be  the  principles  from  which  we  deduce  all  other  truths.  Is  it 
impossible  to  know  that  one  and  two  are  equal  to  three,  but  by 
virtue  of  this  or  some  such  axiom,  viz.  the  whole  is  equal  to  all 
its  parts  taken  together  ?  Many  a  one  knows  that  one  and  two 
are  equal  to  three,  without  having  heard  or  thought  on  that,  or 
any  other  axiom,  by  which  it  might  be  proved  :  and  knows  it 
as  certainly  as  any  other  man  knows  that  the  whole  is  equal  to 
all  its  parts,  or  any  other  maxim,  and  all  from  the  same  reason 
of  self-evidence ;  the  equality  of  those  ideas  being  as  visible 
and  certain  to  him  without  that,  or  any  other  axiom,  as  with  it, 
it  needing  no  proof  to  make  it  perceived.  Nor  after  the 
knowledge,  that  the  whole  is  equal  to  all  its  parts,  does  he  know 
that  one  and  two  are  equal  to  three  better  or  more  certainly 
than  he  did  before.  For  if  there  be  any  odds  in  those'  ideas,  the 
whole  and  parts  are  more  obscure,  or  at  least  more  difficult  to 
be  settled  in  the  mind,  than  those  of  one,  two,  and  three.  And 
indeed,  I  think,  I  may  ask  these  men,  who  will  needs  have  all 
knowledge,  besides  those  general  principles  themselves,  to  de- 
pend on  general,  innate,  and  self-evident  principles, — what  prin- 
ciple is  requisite  to  prove,  that  one  and  one  are  two,  that  two 
and  two  are  four,  that  three  times  two  are  six  ?  Which  being 
known  without  any  proof,  do  evince,  that  either  all  knowledge 
does  not  depend  on  certain  pritcognita,  or  general  maxims  called 
principles,  or  else  that  these  are  principles  ;  and  if  these  are  to 
be  counted  principles,  a  great  part  of  numeration  will  be  so. 
To  which  if  we  add  all  the  self-evident  propositions,  which  may 
be  made  about  all  our  distinct  ideas,  principles  will  be  almost 
infinite,  at  least,  innumerable,  which  men  arrive  to  the  know- 
ledge of  at  different  ages  :  and  a  great  many  of  these  innate 
principles  they  never  come  to  know  all  their  lives.  But  whether 
they  come  in  view  of  the  mind  earlier  or  later,  this  is  true  of 
them,  that  they  are  all  known  by  their  native  evidence,  are 
wholly  independent,  receive  no  light,  nor  are  capable  of  any 
proof  one  from  another  ;  much  less  the  more  particular,  from 


CH.  VII. J  MAXIMS.  loo 

the  more  general;  or  the  more  simple  from  the  more  compounded: 
the  more  simple  and  less  abstract  being  the  most  familiar,  and 
the  easier  and  earlier  apprehended.  But  whichever  be  the 
clearest  ideas,  the  evidence  and  certainty  of  all  such  proposi- 
tions is  in  this,  that  a  man  sees  the  same  idea  to  be  the  same 
idea,  and  infallibly  perceives  two  different  ideas  to  be  different 
ideas.  For  when  a  man  has  in  his  understanding  the  ideas  of 
one  and  of  two,  the  idea  of  yellow,  and  the  idea  of  blue,  he 
cannot  but  certainly  know,  that  the  idea  of  one  is  the  idea  of 
one,  and  not  the  idea  of  two  ;  and  that  the  idea  of  yellow  is 
the  idea  of  yellow,  and  not  the  idea  of  blue.  For  a  man  cannot 
confound  the  ideas  in  his  mind,  which  he  has  distinct :  that 
would  be  to  have  them  confused  and  distinct  at  the  same  time, 
which  is  a  contradiction :  and  to  have  none  distinct  is  to  have 
no  use  of  our  faculties,  to  have  no  knowledge  at  all.  And 
therefore  what  idea  soever  is  affirmed  of  itself,  or  whatsoever 
two  entire  distinct  ideas  are  denied  one  of  another,  the  mind 
cannot  but  assent  to  such  a  proposition,  as  infallibly  true,  as 
soon  as  it  understands  the  terms,  without  hesitation  or  need  of 
proof,  or  regarding  those  made  in  more  general  terms,  and  called 
maxims, 

§    11.    WHAT  USE  THESE  GENERAL  MAXIMS  HAVE. 

What  shall  we  then  say?  Are  these  general  maxims  of  n»* 
use  ?  By  no  means,  though  perhaps  their  use  is  not  that  which 
it  is  commonly  taken  to  be.  But  since  doubting  in  the  least  of 
what  hath  been  by  some  men  ascribed  to  these  maxims  may  be 
apt  to  be  cried  out  against,  as  overturning  the  foundations  of  all 
the  sciences  ;  it  may  be  worth  while  to  consider  them,  with 
respect  to  other  parts  of  our  knowledge,  and  examine  more 
particularly  to  what  purposes  they  serve,  and  to  what  not. 

1.  It  is  evident  from  what  has  been  already  said,  that  they 
are  of  no  use  to  prove  or  confirm  less  general  self-evident  pro- 
positions. 

2.  It  is  as  plain  that  they  are  not,  nor  have  been  the  founda- 
tions whereon  any  science  hath  been  built.  There  is,  I  know, 
a  great  deal  of  talk,  propagated  from  scholastic  men,  of  sciences 
and  the  maxims  oh  which  they  are  built:  but  it  has  been  my  ill 
luck  never  to  meet  with  any  such  sciences  ;  much  less  any  one 
built  upon  these  two  maxims,  what  is,  is  ;  and  it  is  impossible 
for  the  same  thing  to  be  and  not  to  be.  And  I  would  be  glad  to 
be  shown  where  any  such  science,  erected  upon  these  or  any 
other  general  axioms,  is  to  be  found :  and  should  be  obliged 
to  any  one  who  would  lay  before  me  the  frame  and  system 
of  any  science  so  built  on  these  or  any  suchlike  maxims,  that 
could  not  be  shown  to  stand  as  firm  without  any  consideration 
of  them.  1  ask,  whether  these  general  maxims  have  not  the 
-nine  use  in  the  study  of  divinity,  and  in  theological  questions, 
that  they  have  in  other  sciences  ?  They  serve  here  too  to  silence 


13(»  UAXDIb.  [BOOIvlV. 

wranglers,  and  put  an  end  to  dispute.  But  I  think  that  nobodj 
will  therefore  say,  that  the  Christian  religion  is  built  upon  these 
maxims,  or  that  the  knowledge  we  have  of  it  is  derived  from 
these  principles.  It  is  from  revelation  we  have  received  it,  and 
without  revelation  these  maxims  had  never  been  able  to  help  us 
to  it.  When  we  find  out  an  idea,  by  whose  intervention  we 
discover  the  connexion  of  two  others,  this  is  a  revelation  from 
God  to  us,  by  the  voice  of  reason.  For  we  then  come  to  know 
a  truth  that  we  did  not  know  before.  When  God  declares  any 
truth  to  us,  this  is  a  revelation  to  us  by  the  voice  of  his  Spirit, 
and  we  are  advanced  in  our  knowledge.  But  in  neither  of  these 
do  we  receive  our  light  or  knowledge  from  maxims.  But  in  the 
one  the  things  themselves  afford  it,  and  we  see  the  truth  in  them 
by  perceiving  their  agreement  or  disagreement :  in  the  other, 
God  himself  affords  it  immediately  to  us,  and  we  see  the  truth 
of  what  he  says  in  his  unerring  veracity. 

3.  They  are  not  of  use  to  help  men  forward  in  the  advance- 
ment of  sciences,  or  new  discoveries  of  yet  unknown  truths. 
Mr.  Newton,  in  his  never  enough  to  be  admired  book,  has  de- 
monstrated several  propositions,  which  are  so  many  new  truths, 
before  unknown  to  the  world,  and  are  farther  advances  in  mathe- 
matical knowledge ;  but,  for  the  discovery  of  these,  it  was  not 
the  general  maxims,  what  is,  is ;  or,  the  whole  is  bigger  than  a 
part,  or  the  like,  that  helped  him.  These  were  not  the  clues 
that  led  him  into  the  discovery  of  the  truth  and  certainty  of 
those  propositions.  Nor  was  it  by  them  that  he  got  the  know- 
ledge of  those  demonstrations ;  but  by  finding  out  intermediate 
ideas,  that  showed  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  ideas, 
as  expressed  in  the  propositions  he  demonstrated.  This  is  the 
greatest  exercise  and  improvement  of  human  understanding  in 
the  enlarging  of  knowledge,  and  advancing  the  sciences ;  wherein 
they  are  far  enough  from  receiving  any  help  from  the  contem- 
plation of  these,  or  the  like  magnified  maxims.  Would  those 
who  have  this  traditional  admiration  of  these  propositions,  that 
they  think  no  step  can  be  made  in  knowledge  without  the  sup- 
port of  an  axiom,  no  stone  laid  in  the  building  of  the  sciences 
without  a  general  maxim,  but  distinguish  between  the  method  of 
acquiring  knowledge,  and  of  communicating  ;  between  the 
method  of  raising  any  science,  and  that  of  teaching  it  to  others 
as  far  as  it  is  advanced  :  they  would  see  that  those  general 
maxims  were  not  the  foundations  on  which  the  first  discoverers 
raised  their  admirable  structures,  nor  the  keys  that  unlocked  and 
opened  those  secrets  of  knowledge.  Though  afterward,  when 
schools  were  erected,  and  sciences  had  their  professors  to  teach 
what  others  had  found  out,  they  often  made  use  of  maxims,  i.  e. 
laid  down  certain  propositions  which  were  self-evident,  or  to  be 
received  for  true ;  which  being  settled  in  the  minds  of  their 
scholars,  as  unquestionable  verities,  they  on  occasion  made  use 
<i£,  to  convinre  them  of  truths  in  particular  instances,  that  were 


«.IJ.  VII. ]  .VIAXI.US.  13? 

not  so  familiar  to  their  minds  as  those  general  axioms  which 
had  before  been  inculcated  to  them,  and  carefully  settled  in 
their  minds.  Though  these  particular  instances,  when  well  re- 
flected on,  are  no  less  self-evident  to  the  understanding  than  the 
general  maxims  brought  to  confirm  them ;  and  it  was  in  those 
particular  instances  that  the  first  discoverer  found  the  truth, 
without  the  help  of  the  general  maxims :  and  so  may  any  one 
else  do,  who  with  attention  considers  them. 

To  come  therefore  to  the  use  that  is  made  of  maxims. 

1.  They  are  of  use,  as  has  been  observed,  in  the  ordinary 
methods  of  teaching  sciences  as  far  as  they  are  advanced  ;  but 
of  little  or  none  in  advancing  them  farther. 

2.  They  are  of  use  in  disputes,  for  the  silencing  of  obstinate 
wranglers,  and  bringing  those  contests  to  some  conclusion. 
Whether  a  need  of  them  to  that  end  came  not  in,  in  the  manner 
following,  I  crave  leave  to  inquire.  The  schools  having  made 
disputation  the  touchstone  of  men's  abilities,  and  the  criterion  of 
knowledge,  adjudged  victory  to  him  that  kept  the  field :  and  he 
that  had  the  last  word  was  concluded  to  have  the  better  of  the 
argument,  if  not  of  the  cause.  But  because  by  this  means  there 
was  like  to  be  no  decision  between  skilful  combatants,  whilst 
one  never  failed  of  a  medius  terminus  to  prove  any  proposition ; 
and  the  other  could  as  constantly,  without  or  with  a  distinction, 
deny  the  major  or  minor  ;  to  prevent,  as  much  as  could  be,  run- 
ning out  of  disputes  into  an  endless  train  of  syllogisms,  certain 
general  propositions,  most  of  them  indeed  self-evident,  were 
introduced  into  the  schools  ;  which  being  such  as  all  men  al- 
lowed and  agreed  in,  were  looked  on  as  general  measures  of 
truth,  and  served  instead  of  principles  (where  the  disputants 
had  not  lain  down  any  other  between  them)  beyond  which  there 
was  no  going,  and  which  must  not  be  receded  from  by  either 
side.  And  thus  these  maxims  getting  the  name  of  principles, 
beyond  which  men  in  dispute  could  not  retreat,  were  by  mistake 
taken  to  be  originals  and  sources,  from  whence  all  knowledge 
began,  and  the  foundation  whereon  the  sciences  were  built. 
Because  when  in  their  disputes  they  came  to  any  of  these,  the) 
stopped  there,  and  went  no  farther  ;  the  matter  was  determined. 
But  how  much  this  is  a  mistake  hath  been  already  shown. 

This  method  of  the  schools,  which  have  been  thought  the 
fountains  of  knowledge,  introduced,  as  I  suppose,  the  like  use 
of  these  maxims  into  a  great  part  of  conversation  out  of  the 
schools,  to  stop  the  mouths  of  cavillers,  whom  any  one  is  ex- 
cused from  arguing  any  longer  with,  when  they  deny  these  gene- 
ral self-evident  principles  received  by  all  reasonable  men,  who 
have  once  thought  of  them :  but  yet  their  use  herein  is  but  to 
put  an  end  to  wrangling.  They,  in  truth,  when  urged  in  such 
cases,  teach  nothing  :  that  is  already  done  by  the  intermediate 
ideas  made  use  of  in  the  debate,  whose  connexion  may  be  seen 
without  the  help  of  those  maxims,  and  so  the  truth  known  before 
the  maxim  is  produced,  and  the.  argument  brought  to  a  first 


13b  MAXIMS.  [BOOK  IV. 

principle.  Men  would  give  off  a  wrong  argument  before  it  came 
to  that,  if  in  their  disputes  they  proposed  to  themselves  the  find- 
ing and  embracing  of  truth,  and  not  a  contest  for  victory.  And 
thus  maxims  have  their  use  to  put  a  stop  to  their  perverseness, 
whose  ingenuity  should  have  yielded  sooner.  But  the  method 
of  the  schools  having  allowed  and  encouraged  men  to  oppose 
and  resist  evident  truth  till  they  are  baffled,  i.  e.  till  they  are 
reduced  to  contradict  themselves  or  some  established  principle; 
it  is  no  wonder  that  they  should  not  in  civil  conversation  be 
ashamed  of  that,  which  in  the  schools  is  counted  a  virtue  and  a 
glory  ;  obstinately  to  maintain  that  side  of  the  question  they 
have  chosen,  whether  true  or  false,  to  the  last  extremity,  even 
after  conviction  :  a  strange  way  to  attain  truth  and  knowledge, 
and  that  which  I  think  the  rational  part  of  mankind,  not  cor- 
rupted by  education,  could  scarce  believe  should  ever  be  admitted 
among  the  lovers  of  truth,  and  the  students  of  religion  or  nature, 
or  introduced  into  the  seminaries  of  those  who  are  to  propagate 
the  truths  of  religion  or  philosophy  among  the  ignorant  and  un- 
convinced. How  much  such  away  of  learning  is  like  to  turn  young- 
men's  minds  from  the  sincere  search  and  love  of  truth,  nay,  and 
to  make  them  doubt  whether  there  is  any  such  thing,  or  at  least 
worth  the  adhering  to,  I  shall  not  now  inquire.  This  I  think, 
that  bating  those  places  which  brought  the  Peripatetic  philosophy 
into  their  schools,  where  it  continued  many  ages,  without  teach- 
ing the  world  any  thing  but  the  art  of  wrangling  ;  these  maxims 
were  nowhere  thought  the  foundations  on  which  the  sciences 
were  built,  nor  the  great  helps  to  the  advancement  of  knowledge. 
As  to  these  general  maxims,  therefore,  they  are,  as  I  have 
said,  of  great  use  in  disputes,  to  stop  the  mouths  of  wranglers  : 
but  not  of  much  use  to  the  discovery  of  unknown  truths,  or  to 
help  the  mind  forward  in  its  search  after  knowledge.  For  who 
ever  began  to  build  his  knowledge  on  this  general  proposition, 
what  is,  is  ;  or,  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be  and  not 
to  be  :  and  from  either  of  these,  as  from  a  principle  of  science, 
deduced  a  system  of  useful  knowledge  ?  Wrong  opinions  often 
involving  contradictions,  one  of  these  maxims,  as  a  touchstone, 
may  serve  well  to  show  whither  they  lead.  But  yet,  however 
fit  to  lay  open  the  absurdity  or  mistake  of  a  man's  reasoning  or 
opinion,  they  are  of  very  little  use  for  enlightening  the  under- 
standing :  and  it  will  not  be  found,  that  the  mind  receives  much 
help  from  them  in  its  progress  in  knowledge  ;  which  would  be 
neither  less,  nor  less  certain,  were  these  two  general  propositions 
never  thought  on.  It  is  true,  as  I  have  said,  they  sometimes 
serve  in  argumentation  to  stop  a  wrangler's  mouth,  by  showing 
the  absurdity  of  what  he  saith,  and  by  exposing  him  to  the  shame 
of  contradicting  what  all  the  world  knows,  and  he  himself  can- 
not but  own  to  be  true.  But  it  is  one  thing  to  show  a  man  that 
he  is  in  an  error,  and  another  to  put  him  in  possession  of  truth ; 
and  I  would  fain  know  what  truths  these  two  propositions  are 
able  to  teach,  and  bv  their  influence  make  us  know,  which  we 


(ii.  vii. J  MAXIMS,.  139 

did  not  know  before,  or  could  not  know  without  them.  Let  us 
reason  from  them  us  well  as  we  can,  they  are  only  about  iden- 
tical predications,  and  influence,  it'  any  at  all,  none  but  such. 
Each  particular  proposition  concerning  identity  or  diversity  is 
as  clearly  and  certainly  known  in  itself,  it  attended  to,  as  either 
of  these  general  ones  :  only  these  general  ones,  as  serving  in 
ail  cases,  are  therefore  more  inculcated  and  insisted  on.  As 
to  other  less  general  maxims,  many  of  them  are  no  more  than 
bare  verbal  proposition.-.,  ami  teach  us  nothing  but  the  respect 
and  import  of  names  one  to  another.  "  The  whole  is  equal  to 
all  its  paits ;"  what  real  truth,  1  beseech  you,  does  it  teach  us  ? 
What  more  is  contained  in  that  maxim  than  what  the  significa- 
tion of  the  word  totum,  or  the  whole,  does  of  itself  import  ? 
And  he  that  knows  that  the  word  whole  stands  for  what  is  made 
up  of  all  its  parts,  knows  very  little  less  than  that  the  whole  is 
equal  to  all  its  parts.  And  upon  the  same  ground,  1  think  that 
this  proposition,  a  hill  is  higher  than  a  valley,  and  several  the 
like,  may  also  pass  for  maxims.  But  yet  masters  of  mathema- 
tics, when  they  would,  as  teachers  of  what  they  know,  initiate 
others  in  that  science,  do  not  without  reason  place  this,  and  some- 
other  such  maxims,  at  the  entrance  of  their  systems  ;  that  their 
scholars,  having  in  the  beginning  perfectly  acquainted  their 
thoughts  with  these  propositions  made  in  such  general  terms, 
may  be  used  to  make  such  reflections,  and  have  these  more 
general  propositions,  as  formed  rules  and  sayings,  ready  to  apply 
to  all  particular  cases.-  Not  that,  if  they  be  equally  weighed, 
they  are  more  clear  and  evident  than  the  particular  instances 
they  are  brought  to  confirm  :  but  that,  being  more  familiar  to 
the  mind,  the  very  naming  them  is  enough  to  satisfy  the  under- 
standing. But  this,  I  say,  is  more  from  our  custom  of  using 
them,  and  the  establishment  they  have  got  in  our  minds,  by  our 
often  thinking  of  them,  than  from  the  different  evidence  of  the 
things.  But  before  custom  has  settled  methods  of  thinking  and 
reasoning  in  our  minds,  I  am  apt  to  imagine  it  is  quite  otherwise ; 
and  that  the  child,  when  a  pail  of  his  apple  is  taken  away,  knows 
it  better  in  that  particular  instance  than  by  this  general  proposi- 
tion, the  whole  is  equal  to  all  its  parts  ,  and  that  if  one  of  these 
have  need  to  be  confirmed  to  him  by  the  other,  the  general  has 
more  need  to  be  let  into  his  mind  by  the  particular,  than  the  par- 
ticular by  the  general.  For  in  particulars  our  knowledge  begins, 
ami  so  spreads  itself  by  degrees  to  generals.  Though  afterward 
the  mind  takes  the  quite  contrary  course,  and  having  drawn  its 
knowledge  into  as  general  propositions  as  it  can,  makes  those 
familiar  to  its  thoughts,  and  accustoms  itself  to  have  recourse 
to  them,  as  to  the  standards  of  truth  and  falsehood.  By  which 
familial  use  of  them,  as  rules  to  measure  the  truth  of  other 
propositions,  it  comes  in  time  to  be  thought,  that  more  particular 
propositions  have  their  truth  and  evidence  from  their  conformity 
to  these  more  general  ones,  which  in  discourse  a  ml  argumentation 


140  .MAXIMS.  [book  IV, 

are  so  frequently  urged,  and  constantly  admitted.  And  this  I 
think  to  be  the  reason  why,  among  so  many  self-evident  pro- 
positions, the  most  general  only  have  had  the  title  of  maxims. 

§   12.  MAXIMS,  IF  CARE  BE    NOT  T*KEN  IN  THE  USE  OF  WORDS,  MA* 
PROVE  CONTRADICTIONS. 

One  thing  farther,  I  think,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  observe  con- 
cerning these  general  maxims,that  they  are  so  far  from  improving  or 
establishing  our  minds  in  true  knowledge,  that  if  our  notions  be 
wrong,  loose,  and  unsteady,  and  we  resign  up  our  thoughts  to  the 
sound  of  words,  rather  than  fix  them  on  settled  determinate  ideas 
of  things  ;  I  say,  these  general  maxims  will  serve  to  confirm  us 
in  mistakes  ;  and  in  such  a  way  of  use  of  words,  which  is  most 
common,  will  serve  to  prove  contradictions  ;  v.  g.  he  that,  with 
Des  Cartes,  shall  frame  in  his  mind  an  idea  of  what  he  calls  body 
to  be  nothing  but  extension,  may  easily  demonstrate  that  there  is 
no  vacuum,  i.  e.  no  space  void  of  body,  by  this  maxim,  what  is, 
is.  For  the  idea  to  which  he  annexes  the  name  body  being  bare 
extension,  his  knowledge,  that  space  cannot  be  without  body,  is 
certain.  For  he  knows  his  own  idea  of  extension  clearly  and 
distinctly,  and  knows  that  it  is  what  it  is,  and  not  another  idea, 
though  it  be  called  by  these  three  names,  extension,  body,  space. 
Which  three  words,  standing  for  one  and  the  same  idea,  may  no 
doubt,  with  the  same  evidence  and  certainty,  be  affirmed  one  of 
another,  as  each  of  itself:  and  it  is  as  certain,  that  whilst  I  use 
them  all  to  stand  for  one  and  the  same  idea,  this  predication  is  as 
true  and  identical  in  its  signification,  that  space  is  body,  as  this 
predication  is  true  and  identical,  that  body  is  body,  both  in  signi- 
fication and  sound. 

§    13.  INSTANCE  IN  VACUUM. 

But  if  another  should  come,  and  make  to  himself  another  idea, 
different  from  Des  Cartes's,  of  the  thing,  which  yet,  with  Des 
Cartes,  he  calls  by  the  same  name  body ;  and  make  his  idea, 
which  he  expresses  by  the  word  body,  to  be  of  a  thing  that  hath 
both  extension  and  solidity  together ;  he  will  as  easily  demonstrate 
that  there  may  be  a  vacuum  or  space  without  a  body,  as  Des 
Cartes  demonstrated  the  contrary.  Because  the  idea  to  which 
he  gives  the  name  space  being  barely  the  simple  one  of  extension ; 
and  the  idea  to  which  he  gives  the  name  body  being  the  complex 
idea  of  extension  and  resistibility,  or  solidity,  together  in  the  same, 
subject ;  these  two  ideas  are  not  exactly  one  and  the  same,  but 
iii  the  understanding  as  distinct  as  the  ideas  of  one  and  two,  white 
and  black,  or  as  of  corporiety  and  humanity,  if  I  may  use  those 
barbarous  terms  :  and  therefore  the  predication  of  them  in  our 
minds,  or  in  words  standing  for  them,  is  not  identical,  but  the  ne- 
gation of  them  one  of  another,  viz.  this  proposition,  extension  or 
space  is  not  body,  is  as  true  and  evidently  certain,  as  this  maxim, 
it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be,  can  mak'- 
any  proposition. 


IXH.  VII.  |  }1AX1M>.  141 

§   14.    THEY  PROVE  NO',1    rHE    EXISTENCE  01     THINGS  WITHOUT  VS. 

But  yet,  though  both  these  propositions  (as  you  see)  may  be 
equally  demonstrated,  viz.  that  there  may  be  a  vacuum,  and  that 
there  cannot  be  a  vacuum,  by  these  two  certain  principles,  viz. 
what  is,  is ;  and  the  same  thing-  cannot  be,  and  not  be  ;  yet  neither 
of  these  principles  will  serve  to  prove  to  us,  that  any,  or  what 
bodies  do  exist ;  for  that  we  are  left  to  our  senses,  to  discover 
to  us  as  far  as  they  can.  Those  universal  and  self-evident  prin- 
ciples, being-  only  our  constant,  clear,  and  distinct  knowledge  of 
our  own  ideas,  more  general  or  comprehensive,  can  assure  us  of 
nothing  that  passes  without  the  mind  ;  their  certainty  is  founded 
only  upon  the  knowledge  we  have  of  each  idea  by  itself,  and  of 
its  distinction  from  others  ;  about  which  we  cannot  be  mistaken 
whilst  they  arc  in  our  minds,  though  we  may,  and  often  are  mis- 
taken when  we  retain  the  names  without  the  ideas  ;  or  use  them 
confusedly  sometimes  for  one,  and  sometimes  for  another  idea. 
In  which  cases  the.  force  of  these  axioms  reaching  only  to  the 
sound,  and  not  the  signification  of  the  words,  serves  only  to  lead 
us  into  confusion,  mistake,  and  error.  It  is  to  show  men  that 
these  maxims,  however  cried  up  for  the  great  guards  of  truth, 
will  not  secure  them  from  error  in  a  careless  loose  use  of  their 
words,  that  I  have  made  this  remark.  In  all  that  is  here  suggest- 
ed concerning  their  little  use  for  the  improvement  of  knowledge, 
or  dangerous  use  in  undetermined  ideas,  I  have  been  far  enough 
from  saying  or  intending  they  should  be  laid  aside,  as  some  have 
been  too  forward  to  charge  me.  I  affirm  tliem  to  be  truths,  self- 
evident  truths  ;  and  so  cannot  be  laid  aside.  As  far  as  their  in- 
fluence will  reach,  it  is  in  vain  to  endeavour,  nor  will  I  attempt 
to  abridge  it.  But  yet,  without  any  injury  to  truth  or  knowledge, 
I  may  have  reason  to  think  their  use  is  not  aimverable  to  the 
great  stress  which  seems  to  be  laid  on  them  ;  and  I  may  warn 
men  not  to  make  an  ill  use  of  them,  for  the  confirming  themselves 
In  errors. 

G  15.    THEIR  APPLICATION  DANGEROUS  ABOUT  COMPLF.X  II),'..- 

But  let  them  be  of  what  use  they  will  in  verbal  propositions, 
i  liny  cannot  discover  or  prove  to  Us  the  least  knowledge  of  the 
nature  of  substances,  as  they  are  found  and  exist  without  us, 
any  farther  than  grounded  on  experience.  And  though  the. 
consequence  of  these  two  propositions,  called  principles,  be 
very  clear,  and  their  use  not  dangerous  or  hurtful,  in  the  pro- 
bation of  such  things  wherein  there  is  no  need  at  all  of  them 
for  proof,  but  such  as  are  clear  by  themselves  without  them, 
viz.  where  our  ideas  are  determined,  and  known  by  the  names 
That  stand  for  them  :  yet  when  these  principles,  viz.  what  is,  is  ; 
and  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  (liin^lo  be,  and  not  to  be;  are 
made  use  of  in  the  probation  of  propositions,  wherein  are  Avoids 
standing  for  complex  ideas ;  v.  g.  man,  horse,  gold,  virtue  : 
there  they  are  of  infinite  danger,  and  most  cominonlv  make  men 

Vol.   II.  10 


i42  MAXIMS  [BGOK    IV- 

receivc  and  retain  falsehood  for  manifest  truth,  and  uncertainty 
for  demonstration  :  upon  which  follow  error,  obstinacy,  and  all 
the  mischiefs  that  can  happen  from  wrong  reasoning.  The 
reason  whereof  is  not  that  these  principles  are  less  true,  or  of 
less  force  in  proving  propositions  made  of  terms  standing  for  com- 
plex ideas;  than  where  the  propositions  are  about  simple  ideas  ; 
but  because  men  mistake  generally,  thinking  that  where  the  same 
terms  are  preserved,  the  propositions  are  about  the  same  thing?, 
though  the  ideas  they  stand  for  are  in  truth  different :  therefore 
these  maxims  arc  made  use  of  to  support  those,  which  in  sound 
and  appearance  are  contradictory  propositions ;  as  is  clear  in 
the  demonstrations  above  mentioned  about  a  vacuum.  So  that 
whilst  men  take  words  for  things,  as  usually  they  do,  these  max- 
ims may  and  do  commonly  serve  to  prove  contradictory  propo- 
sitions :  as  shall  yet  be  farther  made  manifest. 

§  16.    INSTANCE  IN  MAN.' 

For  instance,  let  man  be  that  concerning  which  you  would  by 
these  first  principles  demonstrate  any  thing,  and  we  shall  see, 
that  so  far  as  demonstration  is  by  these  principles,  it  is  only 
verbal,  and  gives  us  no  certain  universal  true  proposition  or 
knowledge  of  any  being  existing  without  us.     First,  a  child 
having  framed  the  idea  of  a  man,  it  is  probable  that  his  idea  is 
just  like  that  picture,  which  the  painter  makes  of  the  visible 
appearances   joined    together ;    and    such  a  complication   of 
ideas  together  in  his  understanding  makes  up  the  single  com- 
plex idea  which  he  calls  man,  whereof  white  or  flesh-colour 
in    England  being   one,   the    child    can   demonstrate  to   you 
that  a  negro  is  not  a  man,  because  white  colour  was  one  of  the 
constant  simple  ideas  of  the  complex  idea  he  calls  man :  and 
therefore  he  can  demonstrate  by  the  principle,  it  is  impossible 
for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be,  that  a  negro  is  not  a 
man ;  the  foundation  of  his  certainty  being  not  that  universal 
proposition,  which  perhaps  he  never  heard  nor  thought  of,   but 
the  clear  distinct  perception  he  hath  of  his  own  simple  ideas  of 
black  and  white,  which  he  cannot  be  persuaded  to  take,  nor 
can  ever  mistake  one  for  another,  whether  he  knows  that  max- 
im  or  no  :  and  to  this    child,  or  any  one  who  hath  such  an 
idea,  which  he  calls  man,  can  you  never  demonstrate  that  a  man 
hath  a  sold,  because  his  idea  of  man  includes  no  such  notion  or 
idea  in  it.     And  therefore,  to  him,  the  principle  of  what  is,  is, 
proves  not  this  matter  ;  but  it  depends  upon  collection  and  ob- 
servation, by  which  he  is  to  make  his  complex  idea  called  man. 

§  *7. 
Secondly,  another  that  hath  gone  farther  in  framing  and  col- 
lecting the  idea  he  calls  man,  and  to  the  outward  shape  adds 
laughter  and  rational  discourse,  may  demonstrate  that  infants  and. 
changelings  are  no  men.  by  this  maxim,  it  is  impossible  for  thfe 


i.n.  %  ii  &  [  ims  143 

same  thins;  to  be  and  not  to  be  ,  and  I  have  discoursed  with  very 
rational  men,  who  have  actually  denied  that  they  arc  nun 

§  18, 

Thirdly,  perhaps  another  makes  up  the  complex  idea  which 
lie  calls  man  only  out  of  the  ideas  of  body  in  general,  and  the. 
powers  of  language  and  reason,  and  leaves  out  the  shape  wholly  : 
this  man  is  able  to  demonstrate,  that  a  man  may  have  no  hands, 
but  be  quadrupeds,  neither  of  those  being  included  in  his  idea  of 
man ;  and  in  whatever  body  or  shape  he  found  speech  and 
reason  joined,  that  was  a  man:  because  having  a  clear  know- 
ledge of  such  a  complex  idea,  it  is  certain  that  what  is,  is. 

§  19.    LITTLE  USE  OF  THESE  MAXIMS  IN  PROOFS  WHERE  WE  HAVE  CLEAR 
AND   DISTINCT  fDE.NS. 

So  that,  if  rightly  considered,  1  think  we  may  say,  that  where 
Dur  ideas  are  determined  in  our  minds,  and  have  annexed  to  them 
by  us  known  and  steady  names  under  those  settled  determina- 
tions, there  is  little  need  or  no  use  at  all  of  these  maxims,  to 
prove  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  of  them.  He  that, 
cannot  discern  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  such  propositions, 
without  the  help  of  these  and  the  like  maxims,  will  not  be  helped 
by  these  maxims  to  do  it :  since  he  cannot  be  supposed  to  know 
the  truth  of  these  maxims  themselves  without  proof,  if  he  can- 
not know  the  truth  of  others  without  proof,  which  are  as  self- 
evident  as  these.  Upon  this  ground  it  is,  that  intuitive  know- 
ledge neither  requires  nor  admits  any  proof,  one  part  of  it  more 
than  another.  He  that  Avill  suppose  it  does,  takes  away  the 
foundation  of  all  knowledge  and  certainty  :  and  he  that  needs 
any  proof  to  make  him  certain,  and  give  his  assent  to  this  pro- 
position, that  two  are  equal  to  two,  will  also  have  need  of  a  proof 
to  make  him  admit,  that  what  is,  is.  He  that  needs  a  probation 
to  convince  him,  that  two  are  not  three,  that  white  is  not  black, 
that  a  triangle  is  not  a  circle,  &c.  or  any  other  two  determined 
distinct  ideas  are  not  one  and  the  same,  will  need  also  a  demon- 
stration to  convince  him,  that  it  is  impossible  for  the  same  thing 
to  be,  and  not  to  be. 

§20.    THEIR   CSi;   DANGEROUS  WHERE  OCR  IDEAS   ARE  CONFUSED. 

And  as  these  maxims  are  of  little  use  where  we  have  deter- 
mined ideas,  so  they  are,  ;is  1  have  showed,  of  dangerous  use 
where  our  ideas  arc  not  determined  ;  and  where  we  use  words 
that  are  not  annexed  to  determined  ideas,  but  such  as  are  of  a 
loose  ami  wandering  signification,  sometimes  standing  for  one, 
and  sometimes  for  another  idea  :  from  which  follow  mistake 
and  error,  which  these  maxims  (brought  as  proofs  to  establish 
propositions,  wherein  the  terms  stand  for  undetermined  ideas) 

Jo  b\  their  authority  confirm  and  rivet. 


Ill 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

OF  TRIFLING   PROPOSITION:--. 

§  2.    SOME  FROl'OSITIONS  BRING  NO    INCREASE  TO  OCR  KNOWLEDGE, 

Whether  the  maxims  treated  of  in  the  foregoing  chapter 
he  of  that  use  to  real  knowledge  as  is  generally  supposed,  I  leave 
to  be  considered.  This,  I  think,  may  confidently  be  affirmed, 
that  there  are  universal  propositions,  which  though  they  be  cer- 
tainly true,  yet  they  add  no  light  to  our  understandings,  bring 
no  increase  to  our  knowledge.     Such  are, 

§  2.  AS,  FIRST,  IDENTICAL  TROrOSITIONS. 

First,  all  purely  identical  propositions.  These  obviously,  and  af. 
first  blush,  appear  to  contain  no  instruction  in  them.  For  when 
we  affirm  the  said  term  of  itself,  whether  it  be  barely  verbal,  or 
whether  it  contains  any  clear  and  real  idea,  it  shows  us  nothing 
but  what  we  must  certainly  know  before,  whether  such  a  proposi- 
tion be  either  made  by  or  proposed  to  us.  Indeed,  that  most 
general  one,  what  is,  is,  may  serve  sometimes  to  shoAv  a  man  the 
absurdity  he  is  guilty  of,  when  by  circumlocution,  or  equivocal 
terms,  he  would,  in  particular  instances,  deny  the  same  thing  of 
itself;  because  nobody  will  so  openly  bid  defiance  to  common 
sense,  as  to  affirm  visible  and  direct  contradictions  in  plain  words  : 
or  if  he  does,  a  man  is  excused  if  he  breaks  off  any  farther  dis- 
course with  him.  But  yd,  I  think,  I  may  say,  that  neither  that 
received  maxim,  nor  any  other  identical  proposition  teaches  us 
any  thing :  and  though  in  such  kind  of  propositions  this  great 
and  magnified  maxim,  boasted  to  be  the  foundation  of  demon- 
stration, may  be  and  often  is  made  use  of  to  confirm  them  ;  yet 
all  it  proves  amounts  to  no  more  than  this,  that  the  same  word 
may  with  great  certainty  be  affirmed  of  itself,  without  any  doubt 
of  the  truth  of  any  such  proposition  ;  and  let  me  add  also,  -with- 
out any  real  knowledge. 


For  at  this  rate,  any  very  ignorant  person,  who  can  but  make 
a  proposition,  and  knows  what  he  means  when  he  says  ay  or  no, 
may  make  a  million  of  propositions,  of  whose  truths  he  may  be 
infallibly  certain,  and  yet  not  know  one  thing  in  the  world  there- 
by ;  v.  g.  what  is  a  soul,  is  a  soul  ;  or  a  soul  is  a  soul ;  a  spirit  is 
a  spirit ;  a  fetiche  is  a  fetiche,  &c.  These  all  being  equivalent  to 
this  proposition,  viz.  what  is,  is,  i.  c.  what  hath  existence,  hath 
existence  ;  or  who  hath  a  soul,  hath  a  soul.  What  is  this  more 
than  trifling  with  words?  It  is  but  like  a  monkey  shifting  his 
oyster  from  one  hand  to  the  other  ;  and  had  he  but  words,  might, 
no  doubt,  have  said.  "  oyster  in  right  hand  is  subject,  and  oystrr 


I   ft.   VI II. J  TRIFLING    PR0P0S1TK  14o 

in  left  hand  is  predicate  :"  and  so  might  have  made  a  self-evident 
proposition  of  oyster,  i.  e.  oyster  is  oyster  ;  and  yet,  with  all  this, 
not  have  been  one  whit  the  wiser  or  more  knowing:  and  that  waj 
of  handling  the  matter  would  much  at  once  have  satisfied  the  mon- 
key's hunger,  or  a  man's  understanding ;  and  they  would  have 
improved  in  knowledge  and  bulk  together. 

I  know  there  are  some  who,  because  identical  propositions  arc 
self-evident,  show  a  great  concern  for  them,  and  think  they  do 
great  service  to  philosophy  by  crying  them  up,  as  if  in  them  was 
contained  all  knowledge,  and  the  understanding  were  led  into  all 
truth  by  them  only.  I  grant  as  forwrardly  as  any  one,  that  they 
are  all  true  and  self-evident.  I  grant  farther,  that  the  foundation 
of  all  our  knowledge  lies  in  the  faculty  we  have  of  perceiving 
the  same  idea  to  be  the  same,  and  of  discerning  it  from  those 
that  are  different,  as  I  have  shown  in  the  foregoing  chapter.  But 
how  that  vindicates  the  making  use  of  identical  propositions,  for 
the  improvement  of  knowledge,  from  the  imputation  of  trifling, 
1  do  not  see.  Let  any  one  repeat,  as  often  as  he  pleases,  that 
the  will  is  the  will,  or  lay  what  stress  on  it  he  thinks  fit ;  of  what 
use  is  this,  and  an  infinite  the  like  propositions,  for  the  enlarging 
our  knowledge  ?  Let  a  man  abound,  as  much  as  the  plenty  of 
words  which  he  has  will  permit,  in  such  propositions  as  these ;  a 
law  is  a  law,  and  obligation  Ls  obligation  ;  right  is  right,  and 
wrong  is  wrong  :  will  these  and  the  like  ever  help  him  to  an  ac- 
quaintance with  ethics  ?  or  instruct  him  or  others  in  the  know- 
ledge of  morality  ?  Those  who  know  not,  nor  perhaps  ever  will 
Know,  what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong,  nor  the  measures  of  them, 
can  with  as  much  assurance  make,  and  infallibly  knowr  the  truth 
of  these  and  all  such  propositions,  as  he  that  is  best  instructed  in 
morality  can  do.  But  what  advance  do  such  propositions  give 
in  the  knowledge  of  any  thing  necessary  or  useful  for  their  con- 
duct ? 

He  woidd  be  thought  to  do  little  less  than  trifle,  who,  for 
the  enlightening  the  understanding  in  any  part  of  knowledge, 
should  be  busy  with  identical  propositions,  and  insist  on  such 
maxims  as  these  :  substance  is  substance,  and  body  is  body ;  a 
vacuum  is  a  vacuum,  and  a  vortex  is  a  vortex ;  a  centaur  is  a 
centaur,  and  a  chimera  is  a  chimera,  &c.  For  these,  and  all 
<\\c\\  are  equally  true,  equally  certain,  and  equally  self-evident. 
But  yet  they  cannot  but  be  counted  trifling,  when  made  use  of  as 
principles  of  instruction,  and  stress  Laid  on  them,  as  helps  to 
knowledge  :  since  they  teach  nothing  but  what  every  one,  who 
is  capable  of  discourse,  knows,  without  being  told  ;  viz.  that  the 
same  term  is  the  same  term,  and  the  same  idea  the  same  idea. 
And  upon  this  account  it  was  that  I  formerly  did,  and  do  still 
think,  the  offering  and  inculcating  such  propositions,  in  order  to 
give  the  understanding  any  new  light  or  inlet  into  the  know- 
ledge  of  things,  no  better  than  tritling. 

Instruction  Res  in  something  very  different ;  and  he  that  would 


|46  TRIFLING  PROIoSiT.uJvs.  [BOOK  IV.- 

enlarge  his  own,  or  another's  mind,  to  truth  he  does  not  yet 
know,  must  find  out  intermediate  ideas,  and  then  lay  them  in  such 
order  one  by  another,  that  the  understanding-  may  see  the  agree- 
ment or  disagreement  of  those,  in  question.  Propositions  that 
do  this  are  instructive  ;  but  they  are  far  from  such  as  affirm  the 
same  term  of  itself:  which  is  noway  to  advance  one's  self  or 
others  in  any  sort  of  knowledge.  It  no  more  helps  to  that,  than 
it  would  help  any  one,  in  his  learning  to  read,  to  have  such  pro- 
positions as  these  inculcated  to  him.  An  A  is  an  A,  and  a  B  is  a 
B,  which  a  man  may  know  as  well  as  any  schoolmaster,  and  yet- 
never  be  able  to  read  a  word  as  long  as  he  lives.  Nor  do  these, 
or  any  such  identical  propositions,  help  him  one  jot  forward  in 
the  skill  of  reading,  let  him  make  what  use  of  them  he  can. 

If  those  who  blame  my  calling  them  trifling  propositions  had 
but  read,  and  been  at  the  pains  to  understand,  what  I  had  above 
writ  in  very  plain  English,  they  could  not  but  have  seen  that  by 
identical  propositions  I  mean  only  such,  wherein  the  same  term, 
importing  the  same  idea,  is  affirmed  of  itself :  which  I  take  to  be 
the  proper  signification  of  identical  propositions  :  and  concern- 
ing all  such,  I  think  I  may  continue  safely  to  say,  that  to  propose 
them  as  instructive  is  no  better  than  trifling.  For  no  one  who 
has  the  use  of  reason  can  miss  them,  where  it  is  necessary  they 
should  be  taken  notice  of:  nor  doubt  of  their  truth,  when  he 
does  take  notice  of  them. 

But  if  men  will  call  propositions  identical,  wherein  the  same 
term  is  not  affirmed  of  itself,  whether  they  speak  more  properly 
than  I,  others  must  judge  ;  this  is  certain,  all  that  they  say  of* 
propositions  that  are  not  identical  in  my  sense,  concerns  not 
me,  nor  what  I  have  said  ;  all  that  I  have  said  relating  to  those 
propositions  wherein  the  same  term  is  affirmed  of  itself.  And  1 
would  fain  see  an  instance,  wherein  any  such  can  be  made  use 
of,  to  the  advantage  and  improvement  of  any  one's  knowledge. 
Instances  of  other  kinds,  whatever  use  may  be  made  of  them, 
concern  not  me,  as  not  being  such  as  I  call  identical. 

6  4.    SECONDLY,  WHEN  A  PART  OF  ANY  COMPLEX  IDEA  IS  FR.EDICATEI> 
OF  THE  WHOLE. 

Secondly,  another  sort  of  trifling  propositions  is,  when  a  part 
of  the  complex  idea  is  predicated  of  the  name  of  the  whole  ; 
a  part  of  the  definition  of  the  word  defined.  Such  are  all  pro- 
positions wherein  the  genus  is  predicated  of  the  species,  or 
more  comprehensive  of  less  comprehensive  terms  :  for  what 
information,  what  knowledge  carries  this  proposition  in  it,  viz.  lead 
is  a  metal,  to  a  man  who  knows,  the  complex  idea  the  name  lead 
stands  for  ?  all  the  simple  ideas  that  go  to  the  complex  one  signified 
by  the  term  metal,  being  nothing  but  what  he  before  comprehend- 
ed, and  signified  by  the  name  lead.  Indeed,  to  amanthatknowsthe 
signification  of  the  word  metal,  and  not  of  the  word  lead,  it  is  a 
snorter  Way  to  explain  the  signification  of  the  word  lead,  by  say- 


QH.  VIII. J  TIUl-LIN:,  PR0E0S1 TldftB  147 

ileitis  a  metal,  which  at  once  expressi  i  of  its  simple 

ideas,  than  to  enumerate  them  one  by  one,  telling  him  it  is  a  body- 
very  heavy,  fusible,  and  malleable. 

§  5.    AS  PART  OF  THE  DEFINITION  OF  THE  TERM   REFINED. 

Alike  trifling  it  is,  to  predicate  any  other  part  of  the  definition 
of  the  term  defined,  or  to  affirm  any  one  of  the  simple  ideas  of 
a  complex  one  of  the  name  of  the  whole  complex  idea ;  as,  all 
gold  is  fusible.  For  fusibility  being  one  of  the  simple  ideas  that 
goes  to  the  making  up  the  complex  one  the  sound  gold  stands  for, 
what  can  it  be  but  playing  with  sounds,  to  affirm  that  of  the  name 
gold,  which  is  comprehended  in  its  received  signification  ?  It 
would  be  thought  little  better  than  ridiculous,  to  affirm  gravely  as 
a  truth  of  moment,  that  gold  is  yellow  ;  and  I  see  not  how  it  is 
any  jot  more  material  to  say,  it  is  fusible,  unless  that  quality  be 
left  out  of  the  complex  idea,  of  which  the  sound  gold  is  the  mark 
in  ordinary  speech.  What  instruction  can  it  carry  with  it  to  tell 
one  that  which  he  hath  been  told  already,  or  he  is  supposed  to 
know  before  ?  For  1  am  supposed  to  know  the  signification  of 
the  word  another  uses  to  me,  or  else  he  is  to  tell  me.  And  if  I 
know  that  the  name  gold  stands  for  this  complex  idea  of  body, 
yellow,  heavy,  fusible,  malleable,  it  will  not  much  instruct  me  to 
put  it  solemnly  afterward  in  a  proposition,  and  gravely  say,  all 
gold  is  fusible.  Such  propositions  can  only  serve  to  show  the 
disingenuity  of  one,  who  will  go  from  the  definition  of  his  own 
terms,  by  reminding  him  sometimes  of  it ;  but  carry  no  know- 
ledge with  them,  but  of  the  signification  of  words,  however  cer- 
tain they  be. 

§  6.    INSTANCE,  MAN"  AND   PALFREY. 

Every  man  is  an  animal,  or  living  body,  is  as  certain  a  proposi- 
tion as  can  be  ;  but  no  more  conducing  to  the  knowledge  of 
things,  than  to  say,  a  palfrey  is  an  ambling  horse,  or  a  neighing 
ambling  animal,  both  being  only  about  the  signification  of  words. 
and  make  me  know  but  this  ;  that  body,  sense,  and  motion,  or 
power  of  sensation  and  moving,  are  three  of  those  ideas  that  I 
always  comprehend  and  signify  by  the  word  man  :  and  where  they 
are  not  to  be  found  together,  the  name  man  belongs  not  to  that 
thing:  and  so  of  the  other,  that  body,  sense,  and  a  certain  waj 
of  going,  with  a  certain  kind  of  voice,  are  some  of  those  ideas 
which  I  always  comprehend  and  signify  by  the  word  patfrej  ; 
and  when  they  are  not  to  be  found  together,  the  name  palfrey 
belongs  not  to  that  thing.  It  is  just  the  same,  and  to  the  same 
purpose,  when  any  term  standing  for  any  one  or  more  of  the 
simple  ideas,  that  all  together  make  up  that  complex  idea  which 
is  e;dled  man,  is  affirmed  of  the  termmvi :  v.g.  suppose  a  Roman 
signified  by  the  word  homo  all  these  distinct  ideas  united  in  one 
subject,  "  corporietas,  iensibilitas,  poi  ovcwcK,  rationaUias. 

nsibiRtas ;"  he  might,  no  doubt,  with  greal  certainty,  universalis 


148  TRIFLING  PROPOSITIONS.  [BOOK  IV." 

affirm  one,  more,  or  all  of  these  together  of  the  word  homo,  but 
did  no  more  than  say  that  the  word  homo,  in  his  country,  com- 
prehended in  its  signification  all  these  ideas.  Much  like  a 
romance  knight,  who  by  the  word  palfrey  signified  these  ideas  ; 
body  of  a  certain  figure,  four-legged,  with  sense,  motion,  ambling, 
neighing,  white,  used  to  have  a  woman  on  his  back ;  might 
with  the  same  certainty  universally  affirm  also  any  or  all  of  these 
of  the  word  palfrey ;  but  did  thereby  teach  no  more,  but  that 
the  word  palfrey,  in  his  or  romance  language,  stood  for  all  these, 
and  was  not  to  be  applied  to  any  thing  where  any  of  these  was 
wanting.  But  he  that  shall  tell  me,  that  in  whatever  thing  sense, 
motion,  reason,  and  laughter,  were  united,  that  thing  had  actually 
a  notion  of  God,  or  would  be  cast  into  a  sleep  by  opium,  made 
indeed  an  instructive  proposition  ;  because  neither  having  the 
notion  of  God,  nor  being  cast  into  sleep  by  opium,  being  con- 
tained in  the  idea  signified  by  the  word  man,  we  are  by  such 
propositions  taught  something  more  than  barely  what  the  word 
man  stands  for ;  and  therefore  the  knowledge  contained  in  it  is 
more  than  verbal. 

§  7.    FOR  THIS  TEACHES  BUT  THE  SIGNIFICATION  OF  WORDS. 

Before  a  man  makes  any  proposition,  he  is  supposed  to  under- 
stand the  terms  he  uses  in  it,  or  else  he  talks  like  a  parrot,  only 
making  a  noise  by  imitation,  and  framing  certain  sounds,  which 
"he  has  learnt  of  others  ;  but  not  as  a  rational  creature,  using 
them  for  signs  of  ideas  which  he  has  in  his  mind.  The  hearer 
also  is  supposed  to  understand  the  terms  as  the  speaker  uses 
them,  or  else  he  talks  jargon,  and  makes  an  unintelligible  noise. 
And  therefore  he  trifles  with  words  who  makes  such  a  proposi- 
tion, which,  when  it  is  made,  contains  no  more  than  one  of  the 
terms  does,  and  which  a  man  was  supposed  to  know  before  ;  v. 
<>•.  a  triangle  hath  three  sides,  or  saffron  is  yellow.  And  this  is 
no  farther  tolerable,  than  where  a  man  goes  to  explain  his  terms 
to  one  who  is  supposed  or  declares  himself  not  to  understand 
him  :  and  then  it  teaches  only  the  signification  of  that  word, 
and  the  use  of  that  sign. 

§    8.    BUT  NO  REAL  KNOWLEDGE. 

We  can  know  then  the  truth  of  two  sorts  of  propositions  with 
perfect  certainty ;  the  one  is,  of  those  trifling  propositions  which 
have  a  certainty  in  them,  but  it  is  only  a  verbal  certainty,  but  not 
instructive.  And,  secondly,  we  can  know  the  truth,  and  so  may 
be  certain  in  propositions,  which  affirm  something  of  another, 
which  is  a  necessary  consequence  of  its  precise  complex  idea, 
but  not  contained  in  it ;  as  that  the  external  .angle  of  ail  triangles 
is  bigger  than  either  of  the  opposite  internal  angles  ;  which  re- 
lation of  the  outward  angle  to  either  of  the  opposite  internal 
angles  making  no  part  of  the  complex  idea  signified  by  the  name 
iriangle,  this  is  a  real  truth,  owl  cdnveya  with  it  instructive  reajl 
knowledge. 


CH.  VIII.]  TRIFLING  PROPOSITIONS.  149 

6  9.    GENERAL  PROPOSITIONS  CONCERNING  SUBSTANCES  ARE  OFTEN 
TRIFLING. 

We  have  little  or  no  knowledge  of  what  combinations  there  be 
of  simple  ideas  existing  together  in  substances,  but  by  our  senses, 
we  cannot  make  any  universal  certain  propositions  concern- 
ing them,  any  farther  than  our  nominal  essences  lead  us  :  which 
being  to  a  very  few  and  inconsiderable  truths,  in  respect  of  those 
which  depend  on  their  real  constitutions,  the  general  propositions 
that  are  made  about  substances,  if  they  are  certain,  are  for  the 
most  part  but  trifling ;  and  if  they  are  instructive,  are  uncertain, 
and  such  as  we  can  have  no  knowledge  of  their  real  truth,  how 
much  soever  constant  observation  and  analogy  may  assist  our 
judgment  in  guessing,  Hence  it  comes  to  pass,  that  one  may 
often  meet  with  very  clear  and  coherent  discourses,  that  amount 
yet  to  nothing.  For  it  is  plain,  that  names  of  substantial 
beings,  as  w^ell  as  others,  as  far  as  they  have  relative  significa- 
tions affixed  to  them,  may,  with  great  truth,  be  joined  negatively 
and  affirmatively  in  propositions,  as  their  relative  definitions 
make  them  fit  to  be  so  joined ;  and  propositions  consisting  of 
such  terms,  may,  with  the  same  clearness,  be  deduced  one  from 
another,  as  those  that  convey  the  most  real  truths  :  and  all  this 
w  ithout  any  knowledge  of  the  nature  or  reality  of  things  exist- 
ing without  us.  By  this  method  one  may  make  demonstrations 
and  undoubted  propositions  in  words,  and  yet  thereby  advance 
not  one  jot  in  the  knowledge  of  the  truth  of  things ;  v.  g.  he 
that  having  learnt  these  following  words,  with  their  ordinary 
mutually  relative  acceptations  annexed  to  them :  v.  g.  substance, 
man,  animal,  form,  soul,  vegetative,  sensitive,  rational,  may  make 
several  undoubted  propositions  about  the  soul,  without  knowing 
at  all  what  the  soul  really  is ;  and  of  this  sort,  a  man  may  find 
an  infinite  number  of  propositions,  reasonings,  and  conclusions, 
in  books  of  metaphysics,  school  divinity,  and  some  sort  of  natu- 
ral philosophy  ;  and,  after  all,  know  as  little  of  God,  spirits,  or 
bodies,  as  he  did  before  he  set  out. 

§  10.    AND  WHY. 

He  that  hath  liberty  to  define,  i.  e.  to  determine  the  significa- 
tion of  his  names  of  substances  (as  certainly  every  one  does  in 
effect,  who  makes  them  stand  for  his  own  ideas)  and  makes  their 
significations  at  a  venture,  taking  them  from  his  own  or  other 
men's  fancies,  and  not  from  an  examination  or  inquiry  into  the 
nature  of  things  themselves ;  may,  with  little  trouble,  demon- 
strate them  one  of  another,  according  to  those  several  respects 
and  mutual  relations  he  has  given  them  one  to  another;  wherein, 
however  things  agree  or  disagree  in  their  own  nature,  he  needs 
mind  nothing  but  his  own  notions,  with  the  names  he  hath 
bestowed  upon  them  :  but  thereby  no  more  increases  his  own 
knowledge,  thanhe  does  his  riches,  who,  taking  abag  of  counters 
calls  one  in  a  certain  place  a  pound,  another  in  another  place  a 

Vol.  II,  20 


IjU  TRIFLING  PROPOSITIONS,  [BOOK  IV. 

shilling,  and  a  third  in  a  third  place  a  penny ;  and  so  proceeding, 
may  undoubtedly  reckon  right,  and  cast  up  a  great  sum,  accord- 
ing to  his  counters  so  placed,  and  standing  for  more  or  less  as 
he  pleases,  without  being  one  jot  the  richer,  or  without  even 
knowing  how  much  a  pound,  shilling,  or  penny  is,  but  only  that, 
one  is  contained  in  the  other  twenty  times,  and  contains  the  other 
twelve  :  which  a  man  may  also  do  in  the  signification  of  words, 
by  making  them,  in  respect  of  one  another,  more,  or  less,  or 
equally  comprehensive. 

§11.      THIRDLY,  USING  WORDS  VARIOUSLY  IS  TRIFLING  WITH  THEM. 

Though  yet  concerning  most  words  used  in  discourses,  equally 
argumentative  and  controversial,  there  is  this  more  to  be  com- 
plained of,  which  is  the  worst  sort  of  trifling,  and  which  sets  us 
yet  farther  from  the  certainty  of  knowledge  we  hope  to  attain  by 
them,  or  find  in  them;  viz.  that  most  writers  are  so  far  from 
instructing  us  in  the  nature  and  knowledge  of  things,  that  they 
use  their  words  loosely  and  uncertainly,  and  do  not,  by  using  them 
constantly  and  steadily  in  the  same  significations,  make  plain  and 
clear  deductions  of  words  one  from  another,  and  make  their 
discourses  coherent  and  clear  (how  little  soever  they  were  in- 
structive) ;  which  were  not  difficult  to  do,  did  they  not  find  it 
convenient  to  shelter  their  ignorance  or  obstinacy  under  the 
obscurity  and  perplexedness  of  their  terms  :  to  which,  perhaps, 
inadvertency  and  ill  custom  do  in  many  men  much  contribute. 

§  12.  MARKS  OF  VERBAL  PROPOSITIONS. 

To  conclude ;  barely  verbal  propositions  may  be  known  by 
these  following  marks : 

1.    PREDICATION   IN   ABTSRACT. 

First,  all  propositions,  wherein  two  abstract  terms  are  affirmed 
one  of  another,  are  barely  about  the  signification  of  sounds. 
For  since  no  abstract  idea  can  be  the  same  with  any  other  but 
itself,  when  its  abstract  name  is  affirmed  of  any  other  term,  it 
can  signify  no  more  but  this,  that  it  may  or  ought  to  be  called 
by  that  name,  or  that  these  two  names  signify  the  same  idea. 
Thus,  should  any  one  say,  that  parsimony  is  frugality,  that  gra- 
titude is  justice,  that  this  or  that  action  is  or  is  not  temperate  ; 
however  specious  these  and  the  like  propositions  may  at  first 
sight  seem,  yet  when  we  come  to  press  them,  and  examine  nicely 
what  they  contain,  we  shall  find  that  it  all  amounts  to  nothing 
but  the  signification  of  those  terms. 

§   13.     2.     A  PABT  OF  THE  DEFINITION  PREDICATED  OF  ANY  TERM. 

Secondly,  all  propositions  wherein  a  part  of  the  complex  idea 
which  any  term  stands  for,  is  predicated  of  that  term,  are  only 
verbal:  t>.  g.  to  say  that  gold  is  a  metal,  or  heavy.  And  thus  all 
propositions,  wherein  more  comprehensive  words  called  genera, 


I  ii.  IX.]  KNOWLEDGE  OF  EXISTENCE.  151 

are  affirmed  of  subordinate  orless  comprehensive,  called  species, 
or  individuals,  are  barely  verbal. 

When  by  these  two  rules  we  have  examined  the  propositions 
that  make  up  the  discourses  we  ordinarily  meet  with  both  in  and 
out  of  books,  we  shall,  perhaps,  find  that  a  greater  part  of  them, 
than  is  usually  suspected,  are  purely  about  the  signification  of 
words,  and  contain  nothing  in  them  but  the  use  Sind  application 
of  these  signs. 

This,  I  think,  I  may  lay  down  for  an  infallible  rule,  that 
wherever  the  distinct  idea  any  word  stands  for  is  not  known 
and  considered,  and  something  not  contained  in  the  idea  is 
not  affirmed  or  denied  of  it ;  there  our  thoughts  stick  wholly  in 
sounds,  and  are  able  to  attain  no  real  truth  or  falsehood.  This, 
perhaps,  if  well  heeded,  might  save  us  a  great  deal  of  useless 
amusement  and  dispute,  and  very  much  shorten  our  trouble  and 
wandering,  in  the  search  of  real  and  true  knowledge. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

OF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE  OF  EXISTENCE. 
§  1.    GENERAL  CERTAIN  PROPOSITIONS  CONCERN  NOT  EXISTENCE. 

Hitherto  we  have  only  considered  the  essences  of  things, 
which  being  only  abstract  ideas,  and  thereby  removed  in  our 
thoughts  from  particular  existence  (that  being  the  proper  opera- 
tion of  the  mind,  in  abstraction,  to  consider  an  idea  under  no 
other  existence,  but  what  it  has  in  the  understanding)  gives  us  no 
knowledge  of  real  existence  at  all.  Where  by  the  way  we  may 
take  notice,  that  universal  propositions,  of  whose  truth  or  false- 
hood we  can  have  certain  knowledge,  concern  not  existence  ; 
and  farther,  that  all  particular  affirmations  or  negations,  that 
would  not  be  certain  if  they  were  made  general,  are  only  con- 
cerning existence  ;  they  declaring  only  the  accidental  union  or 
separation  of  ideas  in  things  existing,  which,  in  their  abstract 
natures,  have  no  known  necessary  union  or  repugnancy. 

§  2.    A  THREEFOLD  KNOWLEDGE  OF  EXISTENCE. 

But,  leaving  the  nature  of  propositions  and  different  ways  of 
predication  to  be  considered  more  at  large  in  another  place,  let 
us  proceed  now  to  inquire  concerning  our  knowledge  of  the  ex- 
istence of  thiiigs,  and  how  we  come  by  it.  I  say  then,  that  we 
have  the  knowledge  of  our  own  existence  by  intuition ;  of  the 
existence  of  God  by  demonstration ;  and  of  other  things  by 
sensation. 


152  KNOWLEDGE  OP  THE  EXISTENCE  OF  A  GOD.        [BOOKIV. 

§3.    OUR  KNOWLEDGE  OF  OUR  OWN   EXISTENCE  IS  INTUITIVE. 

As  for  our  own  existence,  we  perceive  it  so  plainly,  and  so 
certainly,  that  it  neither  needs  nor  is  capable  of  any  proof. 
For  nothing  can  be  more  evident  to  us  than  our  own  existence  ; 
I  think,  I  reason,  I  feel  pleasure  and  pain :  can  any  of  these  be 
more  evident  to  me  than  my  own  existence  ?  If  I  doubt  of  all 
other  things,  that  very  doubt  makes  me  perceive  my  own  exist- 
ence, and  will  not  suffer  me  to  doubt  of  that.  For  if  I  know  I 
feel  pain,  it  is  evident  I  have  as  certain  perception  of  my  own 
existence,  as  of  the  existence  of  the  pain  I  feel :  or  if  I  know  I 
doubt,  I  have  as  certain  perception  of  the  existence  of  the  thing 
doubting,  as  of  that  thought  which  I  call  doubt.  Experience 
then  convinces  us  that  we  have  an  intuitive  knowledge  of  our 
own  existence,  and  an  internal  infallible  perception  that  we  are. 
In  every  act  of  sensation,  reasoning,  or  thinking,  we  are  con- 
scious to  ourselves  of  our  owrn  being  ;  and,  in  this  matter,  come 
not  short  of  the  highest  degree  of  certainty. 


CHAPTER  X. 

OF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE  OF  THE  EXISTENCE  OF  A  GOD. 

§  1.    WE  ARE  CAPABLE  OF  KNOWING  CERTAINLY  THAT  THERE  IS  A  GOD. 

Though  God  has  given  us  no  innate  ideas  of  himself;  though 
he  has  stamped  no  original  characters  on  our  minds,  wherein  we 
may  read  his  being  ;  yet  having  furnished  us  with  those  faculties 
our  minds  are  endowed  with,  he  hath  not  left  himself  without 
witness  :  since  we  have  sense,  perception,  and  reason,  and  can- 
not want  a  clear  proof  of  him,  as  long  as  we  carry  ourselves 
about  us.     Nor  can  we  justly  complain  of  our  ignorance  in  this 
great  point,  since  he  has  so  plentifully  provided  us  with  the  means 
to  discover  and  know  him,  so  far  as  is  necessary  to  the  end  of 
our  being,  and  the  great  concernment  of  our  happiness.     But 
though  this  be  the  most  obvious  truth  that  reason  discovers  ;  and 
though  its  evidence  be  (if  I  mistake  not)  equal  to  mathematical 
certainty  :  yet  it  requires  thought  and  attention,  and  the  mind 
must  apply  itself  to  a  regular  deduction  of  it  from  some  part  of 
our  intuitive  knowledge,  or  else  we  shall  be  as  uncertain  and 
ignorant  of  this  as  of  other  propositions,  which  are  in  themselves 
capable  of  clear  demonstration.     To  show  therefore  that  we 
are  capable  of  knowing,  i.  e.  being  certain  that  there  is  a  God, 
and  how  we  may  come  by  this  certainty,  I  think  we  need  go  no 
farther  than  ourselves,  and  that  undoubted  knowledge  we  have 
of  our  own  existence. 


til.   X.]         KNOWLEDGE  OF  THE   EXISTENCE  OP  A  GOD.  158 

§  2.    MAN  KNOWS  THAT   HE   HIMSELF    IS. 

I  think  it  is  beyond  question,  that  man  has  a  clear  idea  of  his 
own  being ;  he  Knows  certainly  he  exists,  and  that  he  is  some- 
thing. He  that  can  doubt,  whether  he  be  any  thing  or  no,  I 
speak  not  to,  no  more  than  I  would  argue  with  pure  nothing,  or 
endeavour  to  convince  nonentity  that  it  were  something.  If 
any  one  pretends  to  be  so  sceptical  as  to  deny  his  own  existence 
(for  really  to  doubt  of  it  is  manifestly  impossible,)  let  him  for 
me  enjoy  his  beloved  happiness  of  being  nothing,  until  hunger, 
or  some  other  pain,  convince  him  of  the  contrary.  This  then, 
I  think,  I  may  take  for  a  truth,  which  every  one's  certain  know- 
ledge assures  him  of,  beyond  the  liberty  of  doubting,  viz.  that 
he  is  something  that  actually  exists. 

§  3.    HE   KNOWS  ALSO  THAT  NOTHING  CANNOT  PRODUCE  A  BEING, 
THEREFORE   SOMETHING   ETERNAL. 

In  the  next  place,  man  knows  by  an  intuitive  certainty,  that 
bare  nothing  can  no  more  produce  any  real  being  than  it  can  be 
equal  to  two  right  angles.  If  a  man  knows  not  that  nonentity, 
or  the  absence  of  all  being,  cannot  be  equal  to  two  right  angles, 
it  is  impossible  he  should  know  any  demonstration  in  Euclid.  If 
therefore  we  know  there  is  some  real  being,  and  that  nonentity 
cannot  produce  any  real  being,  it  is  an  evident  demonstration, 
that  from  eternity  there  has  been  something  ;  since  what  was 
not  from  eternity  had  a  beginning ;  and  what  had  a  beginning 
must  be  produced  by  something  else. 

§  4.    THAT  ETERNAL  BEING  MUST   BE  MOST  POWERFUL. 

Next,  it  is  evident,  that  what  had  its  being  and  beginning  from 
another,  must  also  have  all  that  which  is  in,  and  belongs  to  its 
being,  from  another  too.  All  the  powers  it  has  must  be  owing 
to,  and  received  from,  the  same  source.  This  eternal  source 
then  of  all  being  must  also  be  the  source  and  original  of  all 
power  ;  and  so  this  eternal  being  must  be  also  the  most  power- 
ful. 

§  5.    AND  MOST  KNOWING. 

Again,  a  man  finds  in  himself  perception  and  knowledge. 
We  have  then  got  one  step  farther ;  and  we  are  certain  now, 
that  there  is  not  only  some  being,  but  some  knowing  intelligent 
being  in  the  world. 

There  was  a  time,  then,  when  there  was  no  knowing  being, 
and  when  knowledge  began  to  be  ;  or  else  there  has  been  also  a 
knowing  being  from  eternity.  If  it  be  said,  there  was  a  time 
when  no  being  had  any  knowledge,  when  that  eternal  being  was 
void  of  all  understanding  ,  I  reply,  that  then  it  was  impossible 
there  should  ever  have  been  any  knowledge  :  it  being  as  impos- 
sible that  things  wholly  void  of  knowledge,  and  operating  blindly, 
and  without  any  perception,  should  produce  a  knowing  being, 


154  KNOWLEDGE  OF  THE  EXISTENCE  OP  A  GOD.       [BOOK  IV. 

as  it  is  impossible  that  a  triangle  should  make  itself  three  angles 
bigger  than  two  right  ones.  For  it  is  as  repugnant  to  the  idea 
of  senseless  matter,  that  it  should  put  into  itself  sense,  percep- 
tion, and  knowledge,  as  it  is  repugnant  to  the  idea  of  a  triangle, 
that  it  should  put  into  itself  greater  angles  than  two  right  ones. 

§  6.   AND  THEREFORE  GOD. 

Thus  from  the  consideration  of  ourselves,  and  what  we  in- 
fallibly find  in  our  own  constitutions,  our  reason  leads  us  to  the 
knowledge  of  this  certain  and  evident  truth,  that  there  is  an 
eternal,  most  powerful,  and  most  knowing  being ;  which  whe- 
ther any  one  will  please  to  call  God,  it  matters  not.  The  thing 
is  evident,  and  from  this  idea,  duly  considered,  will  easily  be 
deduced  all  those  other  attributes  which  we  ought  to  ascribe  to 
this  eternal  being.  If  nevertheless  any  one  should  be  found  so 
senselessly  arrogant  as  to  suppose  man  alone  knowing  and  wise, 
but  yet  the  product  of  mere  ignorance  and  chance  ;  and  that  all 
the  rest  of  the  universe  acted  only  by  that  blind  hap-hazard  : — 
I  shall  leave  with  him  that  very  rational  and  emphatical  rebuke 
of  Tully,  1.  ii.  De  Leg.  to  be  considered  at  his  leisure  :  "  What 
can  be  more  sillily  arrogant  and  misbecoming,  than  for  a  man  to 
think  that  he  has  a  mind  and  understanding  in  him,  but  yet  in 
all  the  universe  beside  there  is  no  such  thing  ?  Or  that  those 
things,  which  with  the  utmost  stretch  of  his  reason  he  can 
scarce  comprehend,  should  be  moved  and  managed  without  any 
reason  at  all  ?  "  Quid  est  enim  verius,  quam  neminem  esse  opor- 
tere  tarn  stulte  arrogantem,  ut  in  se  mentem  et  rationem  putet 
inesse,  in  ccelo  mundoque  non  putet  ?  Aut  ea  quae  vix  summa 
ingenii  ratione  comprehendat,  nulla  ratione  moveri  putet  ?" 

From  what  has  been  said,  it  is  plain  to  me,  we  have  a  more 
certain  knowledge  of  the  existence  of  a  God,  than  of  any  thing 
our  senses  have  not  immediately  discovered  to  us.  Nay,  I  pre- 
sume I  may  say,  that  we  more  certainly  know  that  there  is  a 
God,  than  that  there  is  anything  else  without  us.  When  I  say 
we  know,  I  mean  there  is  such  a  knowledge  within  our  reach, 
which  we  cannot  miss,  if  we  will  but  apply  our  minds  to  that,  as 
we  do  to  several  other  inquiries. 

§  7.  OUR  IDEA  OF  A  MOST  PERFECT  BEING  NOT  THE  SOLE  PROOF  OF 

A  GOD. 

How  far  the  idea  of  a  most  perfect  being,  which  a  man  may 
frame  in  his  mind,  does  or  does  not  prove  the  existence  of  a  God, 
I  will  not  here  examine.  For  in  the  different  make  of  men's 
tempers  and  application  of  their  thoughts,  some  arguments  pre- 
vail more  on  one,  and  some  on  another,  for  the  confirmation  of 
the  same  truth.  But  yet,  1  think,  this  I  may  say,  that  it  is  an  ill 
way  of  establishing  this  truth,  and  silencing  atheists,  to  lay  the 
whole  stress  of  so  important  a  point  as  this  upon  that  sole 
foundation ;  and  take  some  men's  having  that  idea  of  God  in 


lH.  X.J         KNOWLEDGE  OF  THE  EXISTENCE  OF  A  GOD.  155 

their  minds  (for  it  is  evident  some  men  have  none,  and  some 
worse  than  none,  and  the  most  very  different)  for  the  only  proof 
of  a  deity  :  and  out  of  an  over-fondness  of  that  darling  inven- 
tion cashier,  or  at  least  endeavour  to  invalidate  all  other  argu- 
ments, and  forbid  us  to  hearken  to  those  proofs,  as  being  weak 
or  fallacious,  which  our  own  existence  and  the  sensible  parts  of 
the  universe  offer  so  clearly  and  cogently  to  our  thoughts,  that  I 
deem  it  impossible  for  a  considering  man  to  withstand  them.  For 
I  judge  it  as  certain  and  clear  a  truth,  as  can  any  where  be  deli- 
vered, that  the  invisible  things  of  God  are  clearly  seen  from  the 
creation  of  the  world,  being  understood  by  the  things  that  are 
made,  even  his  eternal  power  and  Godhead.  Though  our  own 
being  furnishes  us,  as  I  have  shown,  with  an  evident  and  incon- 
testable proof  of  a  deity, — and  1  believe  nobody  can  avoid  the 
cogency  of  it,  who  will  but  as  carefully  attend  to  it,  as  to  any 
other  demonstration  of  so  many  parts  ; — yet  this  being  so  funda- 
mental a  truth,  and  of  that  consequence,  that  all  religion  and 
genuine  morality  depend  thereon,  I  doubt  not  but  I  shall  be  for- 
given by  my  reader,  if  I  go  over  some  parts  of  this  argument 
again,  and  enlarge  a  little  more  upon  them. 

§  8.    SOMETHING   FROM  ETERNITY. 

There  is  no  truth  more  evident,  than  that  something  must  be 
from  eternity.  I  never  yet  heard  of  any  one  so  unreasonable,  or 
that  could  suppose  so  manifest  a  contradiction,  as  a  time  where- 
in there  was  perfectly  nothing  :  this  being  of  all  absurdities  the 
greatest,  to  imagine  that  pure  nothing,  the  perfect  negation  and 
absence  of  all  beings,  should  ever  produce  any  real  existence. 

It  being  then  unavoidable  for  all  rational  creatures  to  conclude, 
that  something  has  existed  from  eternity  ;  let  us  next  see  what 
kind  of  thing  that  must  be. 

§  9.      TWO  SORTS  OF   BEINGS  COGITATIVE  AND  INCOGITATI VE . 

There  are  but  two  sorts  of  beings  in  the  world,  that  man 
knows  or  conceives. 

First,  such  as  are  purely  material,  without  sense,  perception, 
or  thought,  as  the  clippings  of  our  beards,  and  parings  of  our 
nails. 

Secondly,  sensible,  thinking,  perceiving  beings,  such  as  we 
find  ourselves  to  be,  which,  if  you  please,  we  will  hereafter  call 
cogitative  and  incogitative  beings  ;  which  to  our  present  pur- 
pose, if  for  nothing  else,  are,  perhaps,  better  terms  than  ma- 
terial and  immaterial. 

§    10.    INCOGITATIVE  BEING  CANNOT    PRODUCE  A  COGITATIVE. 

If  then  there  must  be  something  eternal,  let  us  see  what  sort 
of  being  it  must  be.  And  to  that,  it  is  very  obvious  to  reason, 
that  it  must  necessarily  be  a  cogitative  being.  For  it  is  as  im- 
possible to  conceive,  that  ever  bare  incogitative  matter  should 


156  KNOWLEDGE  OF  THE  EXISTENCE  OF  A  GOD.       [BOOK  IV* 

produce  a  thinking  intelligent  being,  as  that  nothing  should  of 
itself  produce  matter.  Let  us  suppose  any  parcel  of  matter 
eternal,  great  or  small,  we  shall  find  it,  in  itself,  able  to  produce 
nothing.  For  example  ;  let  us  suppose  the  matter  of  the  next 
pebble  we  meet  with  eternal,  closely  united,  and  the  parts  firmly 
at  rest  together  ;  if  there  were  no  other  being  in  the  world,  must 
it  not  eternally  remain  so,  a  dead  inactive  lump  ?  Is  it  possible 
to  conceive  it  can  add  motion  to  itself,  being  purely  matter," or 
produce  any  thing  ?  Matter,  then,  by  its  own  strength,  cannot 
produce  in  itself  so  much  as  motion  :  the  motion  it  has  must  also 
be  from  eternity,  or  else  be  produced  and  added  to  matter  by 
some  other  being  more  powerful  than  matter ;  matter,  as  is  evi- 
dent, having  not  power  to  produce  motion  in  itself.  But  let  us 
suppose  motion  eternal  too  ;  yet  matter,  incogitative  matter  and 
motion,  whatever  changes  it  might  produce  of  figure  and  bulk, 
could  never  produce  thought :  knowledge  will  still  be  as  far  be- 
yond the  power  of  motion  and  matter  to  produce,  as  matter  is 
beyond  the  power  of  nothing  or  nonentity  to  produce.  And  I 
appeal  to  every  one's  own  thoughts,  whether  he  cannot  as  easily 
conceive  matter  produced  by  nothing,  as  thought  to  be  produced 
by  pure  matter,  when  before  there  was  no  such  thing  as  thought, 
or  an  intelligent  being  existing  ?  Divide  matter  into  as  minute 
parts  as  you  will  (which  we  are  apt  to  imagine  a  sort  of  spiri- 
tualizing, or  making  a  thinking  thing  of  it;)  vary  the  figure  and 
motion  of  it  as  much  as  you  please ;  a  globe,  cube,  cone,  prism, 
cylinder,  &c.  whose  diameters  are  about  1000000th  part  of  a 
gry,*  will  operate  no  otherwise  upon  other  bodies  of  proportion- 
able bulk,  than  those  of  an  inch  or  foot  diameter ;  and  you  may 
as  rationally  expect  to  produce  sense,  thought,  and  knowledge, 
by  putting  together,  in  a  certain  figure  and  motion,  gross  parti- 
cles of  matter,  as  by  those  that  are  the  very  minutest  that  do  any 
where  exist.  They  knock,  impel,  and  resist  one  another,  just 
as  the  greater  do,  and  that  is  all  they  can  do.  So  that  if  we  will 
suppose  nothing  first,  or  eternal ;  matter  can  never  begin  to  be  : 
if  we  suppose  bare  matter,  without  motion,  eternal ;  motion  can 
never  begin  to  be :  if  we  suppose  only  matter  and  motion  first,  or 
eternal ;  thought  can  never  begin  to  be.  For  it  is  impossible  to 
conceive  that  matter,  either  with  or  without  motion,  could  have 
originally  in  and  from  itself  sense,  perception,  and  knowledge ; 
as  is  evident  from  hence,  that  then  sense,  perception,  and  know- 
ledge must  be  a  property  eternally  inseparable  from  matter  and 
every  particle  of  it.     Not  to  add  that  though  our  general  or  spe- 

*  A  gry  is  y1^  of  a  line,  a  line  y1^  of  an  inch,  an  inch  y1^  of  a  philosophical 
foot,  a  philosophical  foot  ^  of  a  pendulum,  whose  diadroms,  in  the  latitude  of  45 
degrees,  are  each  equal  to  one  second  of  time  or  g-'g-  of  a  minute.  I  have  affectedly 
made  use  of  this  measure  here,  and  the  parts  of  it,  under  a  decimal  division,  with 
names  to  them;  because,  I  think,  it  would  be  of  general  convenience,  that  thi^ 
should  be  the  common  measure,  ia  the  commonwealth  of  letters 


\.j       k.nowleugl:  or  t/ik  ex^sti:ncl  ui' a  <,ca>.  15" 

eific  conception  of  matter  makes  us  speak  of  it  as  one  thing,  yet 
really  all  matter  is  not  one  individual  thing,  neither  is  there  any 
such  thing  existing  as  one  material  being,  or  one  single  body  that 
we  know  or  can  conceive.  And  therefore  if  matter  were  the 
eternal  first  cogitative  being,  there  would  not  be  one  eternal  in- 
finite cogitative  being,  but  an  infinite  number  of  eternal  finite  cogi- 
tative beings,  independent  one  of  another,  of  limited  force  and 
distinct  thoughts,  which  could  never  produce  that  order,  har- 
mony, and  beauty  which  are  to  be  found  in  nature.  Since  there- 
fore whatsoever  is  the  first  eternal  being  must  necessarily  be  co- 
gitative ;  and  whatsoever  is  first  of  all  things  must  necessarily  con- 
tain in  it  and  actually  have,  at  least,  all  the  perfections  that  can 
ever  after  exist ;  nor  can  it  ever  give  to  another  any  perfection 
that  it  hath  not,  either  actually  in  itself,  or  at  least  in  a  higher 
degree  ;  it  necessarily  follows,  that  the  first  eternal  being  cannot 
be  matter. 

§    11.    THEREFORE  THERE  HAS  BEEN  AN  ETERNAL  WISDOM. 

If  therefore  it  be  evident,  that  something  necessarily  must 
exist  from  eternity,  it  is  also  as  evident,  that  that  something 
must  necessarily  be  a  cogitative  being :  for  it  is  as  impossible 
that  incogitative  matter  should  produce  a  cogitative  being,  as  that 
nothing,  or  the  negation  of  all  being,  should  produce  a  positive 
being  or  matter. 

§12. 

Though  this  discovery  of  the  necessary  existence  of  an  eter- 
nal mind  does  sufficiently  lead  us  into  the  knowledge  of  God ; 
since  it  will  hence  follow,  that  all  other  knowing  beings  that  have 
a  beginning  must  depend  on  him,  and  have  no  other  ways  of 
knowledge,  or  extent  of  power,  than  what  he  gives  them  ;  and 
therefore  if  he  made  those,  he  made  also  the  less  excellent 
pieces  of  this  universe,  all  inanimate  beings,  whereby  his  omni- 
science, power,  and  providence  will  be  established,  and  all  his 
other  attributes  necessarily  follow  :  yet  to  clear  up  this  a  little 
farther,  we  will  see  what  doubts  can  be  raised  against  it. 

§   13.    WHETHER  MATERIAL  OR  NO. 

First,  perhaps  it  will  be  said,  that  though  it  be  as  clear  as  de- 
monstration can  make  it,  that  there  must  be  an  eternal  being,  and 
that  being  must  also  be  knowing ;  yet  it  does  not  follow,  but  that 
thinking  being  may  also  be  material.  Let  it  be  so  ;  it  equally 
-t .ill  follows,  that  there  is  a  God.  For  if  there  be  an  eternal, 
omniscient,  omnipotent  being,  it  is  certain  that  there  is  a  God, 
whether  you  imagine  that  being  to  be  material  or  no.  But  here- 
in, I  suppose,  lies  the  danger  and  deceit  of  that  supposition : 
there  being  no  way  to  avoid  the  demonstration,  that  there  is  an 
eternal  knowing  being,  men,  devoted  to  matter,  would  willingly 
have  it  granted,  that  this  knowing  being  is  material ;  and  then 

Vol   H  21 


irC»S  KNOWLEDGE  OF  THE  EXISTENCE  OP  A  GOD.        [BOOK  IV- 

letting  slide  out  of  their  minds,  or  the  discourse,  the  demonstra- 
tion whereby  an  eternal  knowing  being  was  proved  necessarily 
to  exist,  would  argue  all  to  be  matter,  and  so  deny  a  God,  that  is, 
an  eternal  cogitative  being ;  whereby  they  are  so  far  from  estab- 
lishing, that  they  destroy  their  own  hypothesis.  For  if  there  can 
be,  in  their  opinion,  eternal  matter,  without  any  eternal  cogita- 
tive being,  they  manifestly  separate  matter  and  thinking,  and  sup- 
pose no  necessary  connexion  of  the  one  with  the  other,  and  so 
establish  the  necessity  of  an  eternal  spirit,  but  not  of  matter ,  since 
it  has  been  proved  already,  that  an  eternal  cogitative  being  is  un- 
avoidably to  be  granted.  Now  if  thinking  and  matter  may  be 
separated,  the  eternal  existence  of  matter  will  not  folloAv  from  the 
eternal  existence  of  a  cogitative  being,  and  they  suppose  it  to  no 
purpose. 

§  14.  NOT  MATERIAL,  1.  BECAUSE  EVERY  PARTICLE  OF  MATTER  IS  NOT 

COGITATIVE. 

But  now  let  us  suppose  they  can  satisfy  themselves  or  others, 
that  this  eternal  thinking  being  is  material. 

First,  I  would  ask  them,  Whether  they  imagine,  that  all  mat- 
ter, every  particle  of  matter,  thinks  ?  This,  I  suppose,  they  will 
scarce  say  ;  since  then  there  would  be  as  many  eternal  thinking 
beings  as  there  are  particles  of  matter,  and  so  an  infinity  of  gods. 
And  yet  if  they  will  not  allow  matter  as  matter,  that  is,  every  par- 
ticle of  matter,  to  be  as  well  cogitative  as  extended,  they  will  have 
as  hard  a  task  to  make  out  to  their  own  reasons  a  cogitative  be- 
ing out  of  incogitative  particles,  as  an  extended  being  out  of  un- 
extended  parts,  if  I  may  so  speak. 

§  15.  2.  ONE  PARTICLE  ALONE  OF  MATTER  CANNOT  BE  COGITATIVE. 

Secondly,  if  all  matter  does  not  think,  I  next  ask,  "  Whether 
it  be  only  one  atom  that  does  so  ?"  This  has  as  many  absurdi- 
ties as  the  other  ;  for  then  this  atom  of  matter  must  be  alone 
eternal  or  not.  If  this  alone  be  eternal,  then  this  alone,  by  its 
powerful  thought  or  will,  made  all  the  rest  of  matter.  And  so 
we  have  the  creation  of  matter  by  a  powerful  thought,  which  is 
that  the  materialists  stick  at.  For  if  they  suppose  one  single 
thinking  atom  to  have  produced  all  the  rest  of  matter,  they  can- 
not ascribe  that  pre-eminency  to  it  upon  any  other  account 
than  that  of  its  thinking,  the  only  supposed  difference.  But 
allow  it  to  be  by  some  other  way,  which  is  above  our  conception, 
it  must  still  be  creation,  and  these  men  must  give  up  their  great, 
maxim,  ex  nihilo  nil  fit.  If  it  be  said,  that  all  the  rest  of  matter 
is  equally  eternal,  as  that  thinking  atom,  it  will  be  to  say  any 
thing  at  pleasure,  though  ever  so  absurd :  for  to  suppose  all  mat- 
ter eternal,  and  yet  one  small  particle  in  knoAvledge  and  power 
infinitely  above  all  the  rest,  is  without  any  the  least  appearance; 
of  reason  to  frame  an  hypothesis.  Every  particle  of  matter,  as 
matter,  is  capable  of  all  the  same  figures  and  motions  of  any 


1  II.  X.J  KNOWLEDGE  OF  THE  EXISTENCE  OF  A  GOD..  }.Jt*) 

other;  and  I  challenge  any  one,  in  his  thoughts,  to  add  any  thing 
rise  to  one  above  another. 

§    1G.    3.    A  SYSTEM  OF  INCOGITATIVE  MATTER  CA.\NOT  BE  COGITATIVE. 

If  then  neither  one  peculiar  atom  alone  can  be  this  eternal 
thinking  being  ;  nor  all  matter  as  matter,  i.  e.  every  particle  of 
matter,  can  be  it ;  it  only  remains,  that  it  is  some  certain  system 
of  matter  duly  put  together,  that  is  this  thinking  eternal  being. 
This  is  that,  which,  I  imagine,  is  that  notion  which  men  are  apt- 
cst  to  have  of  God,  who  would  have  him  a  material  being,  as 
most  readily  suggested  to  them,  by  the  ordinary  conceit  they 
have  of  themselves,  and  other  men,  which  they  take  to  be  ma- 
terial thinking  beings.  But  this  imagination,  however  more  na- 
tural, is  no  less  absurd  than  the  other  ;  for  to  suppose  the  eternal 
thinking  being  to  be  nothing  else  but  a  composition  of  particles 
of  matter,  each  whereof  is  incogitative,  is  to  ascribe  all  the  wis- 
dom and  knowledge  of  that  eternal  being  only  to  the  juxta-po- 
sition  of  parts  ;  than  which  nothing  can  be  more  absurd.  For 
unthinking  particles  of  matter,  however  put  together,  can  have 
nothing  thereby  added  to  them,  but  a  new  relation  of  position, 
which  it  is  impossible  should  give  thought  and  knowledge  to 
them. 

17.  whether  ix  motion  or  at  rest. 

But  farther,  this  corporeal-  system  either  has  all  its  parts  at 
rest,  or  it  is  a  certain  motion  of  the  parts  wherein  its  thinking 
consists.  If  it  be  perfectly  at  rest,  it  is  but  one  lump,  and  so 
can  have  no  privileges  above  one  atom. 

If  it  be  the  motion  of  its  parts  on  which  its  thinking  depends, 
all  the  thoughts  there  must  be  unavoidably  accidental  and  limit- 
ed ;  since  all  the  particles  that  by  motion  cause  thought,  being 
each  of  them  in  itself  without  any  thought,  cannot  regulate  its 
own  motions,  much  less  be  regulated  by  the  thought  of  the 
whole  ;  since  that  thought  is  not  the  cause  of  motion  (for  then 
it  must  be  antecedent  to  it,  and  so  without  it)  but  the  conse- 
quence of  it,  whereby  freedom,  power,  choice,  and  all  rational 
and  wise  thinking  or  acting,  will  be  quite  taken  away :  so  that 
such  a  thinking  being  will  be  no  better  nor  wiser  than  pure  blind 
matter  ;  since  to  resolve  all  into  the  accidental  unguided  motions 
of  blind  matter,  or  into  thought  depending  on  unguided  motions 
of  blind  matter,  is  the  same  thing  ;  not  to  mention  the  narrow- 
ness of  such  thoughts  and  knowledge  that  must  depend  on  the 
motion  of  such  parts.  But  there  needs  no  enumeration  of  any 
more  absurdities  and  impossibilities  in  this  hypothesis  (however 
full  of  them  it  be)  than  that  before-mentioned  ;  since  let  this 
thinking  system  be  all,  or  a  part  of  the  matter  of  the  universe, 
it  is  impossible  that  any  one  particle  should  either  know  its  own 
Or  the  motion  of  any  other  particle,  or  the  whole  know  the  mo- 


160  KNOWLEDGE  OF  THE  EXISTENCE  OF  A  GOD.       [BOOK  IV, 

tion  of  every  particle  ;  and  so  regulate  its  own  thoughts  or  mo- 
tions, or  indeed  have  any  thought  resulting  from  such  motion. 

§   18.     5IATTER  NOT  COETERNAL  WITH  AN  ETERNAL  MIND. 

Others  would  have  matter  to  be  eternal,  notwithstanding  that 
they  allow  an  eternal,  cogitative,  immaterial  being.  This,  though 
it  take  not  away  the  being  of  a  God,  yet  since  it  denies  one  and 
the  first  great  piece  of  his  workmanship,  the  creation,  let  us 
consider  it  a  little.  Matter  must  be  allowed  eternal.  Why  ? 
because  you  cannot  conceive  how  it  can  be  made  out  of  no- 
thing. Why  do  you  not  also  think  yourself  eternal  ?  You  will 
answer,  perhaps,  because  about  twenty  or  forty  years  since  you 
began  to  be.  But  if  I  ask  you  what  that  you  is,  which  began 
then  to  be,  you  can  scarce  tell  me.  The  matter,  whereof  you 
are  made,  began  not  then  to  be  ;  for  if  it  did,  then  it  is  not  eter- 
nal :  but  it  began  to  be  put  together  in  such  a  fashion  and  frame 
as  makes  up  your  body  ;  but  yet  that  frame  of  particles  is  not  you, 
it  makes  not  that  thinking  thing  you  are  ;  (for  1  have  now  to  do 
with  one  who  allows  an  eternal,  immaterial,  thinking  being,  but 
would  have  unthinking  matter  eternal  too)  therefore  when  did 
that  thinking  thing  begin  to  be  ?  If  it  did  never  begin  to  be,  then 
have  you  always  been  a  thinking  thing  from  eternity  ;  the  absur- 
dity whereof  I  need  not  confute,  till  I  meet  with  one  w7ho  is  so  void 
of  understanding  as  to  own  it.  If  therefore  you  can  allow  a 
thinking  thing  to  be  made  out  of  nothing  (as  all  things  that  are 
not  eternal  must  be)  why  also  can  you  not  allow  it  possible  for  a 
material  being  to  be  made  out  of  nothing,  by  an  equal  power,  but 
that  you  have  the  experience  of  the  one  in  view,  and  not  of  the 
other  ?  though,  when  well  considered,  creation  of  a  spirit  will  be 
found  to  require  no  less  power  than  the  creation  of  matter.  Nay, 
possibly,  if  we  would  emancipate  ourselves  from  vulgar  notions, 
and  raise  our  thoughts  as  far  as  they  would  reach,  to  a  closer  con- 
templation of  things,  we  might  be  able  to  aim  at  some  dim  and 
seeming  conception  how  matter  might  at  first  be  made,  and  begin 
to  exist  by  the  power  of  that  eternal  first  being  :  but  to  give  be- 
ginning and  beingto  a  spirit,  would  be  found  a  more  inconceivable 
effect  of  omnipotent  power.  But,  this  being  what  would  perhaps 
lead  us  too  far  from  the  notions  on  which  the  philosophy  now  in 
the  world  is  built,  it  would  not  be  pardonable  to  deviate  so  far  from 
them ;  or  to  inquire,  so  far  as  grammar  itself  would  authorize,  if 
the  common  settled  opinion  opposes  it :  especially  in  this  place, 
where  the  received  doctrine  serves  well  enough  to  our  present 
purpose,  and  leaves  this  past  doubt,  that  the  creation  or  begin- 
ning of  any  one  substance  out  of  nothing  being  once  admitted, 
the  creation  of  all  other,  but  (he  Orator  himself,  may,  with  the 
•?anie  ease,  be  supposed. 


:i.  X.]  KNOWLEDGE    OF  THE  EXISTENCE  OP  A  GOD,  161 

§  19. 

But  you  will  say,  is  it  not  impossible  to  admit  of  the  making 
any  thing  out  of  nothing,  since  wc  cannot  possibly  conceive  it  ? 
I  answer,  No  :  1 .  Because  it  is  not  reasonable  to  deny  the  power 
of  an  infinite  being,  because  we  cannot  comprehend  its  opera- 
tions.' We  do  not  deny  other  effects  upon  this  ground,  because 
we  cannot  possibly  conceive  the  manner  of  their  production. 
We  cannot  conceive  how  any  thing  but  impulse  of  body  can 
move  body ;  and  yet  that  is  not  a  reason  sufficient  to  make  us 
deny  it  impossible,  against  the  constant  experience  we  have  of  it 
in  ourselves,  in  all  our  voluntary  motions,  which  are  produced 
in  us  only  by  the  free  action  or  thought  of  our  own  minds  ;  and 
arc  not,  nor  can  be  the  effects  of  the  impulse  or  determination  of 
the  motion  of  blind  matter  in  or  upon  our  own  bodies  ;  for  then 
it  could  not  be  in  our  power  or  choice  to  alter  it.  For  example : 
my  right  hand  writes,  whilst  my  left  hand  is  still.  What  causes 
rest  in  one,  and  motion  in  the  other  ?  Nothing  but  my  will,  a 
thought  of  my  mind  ;  my  thought  only  changing,  the  right  hand 
rests,  and  the  left  hand  moves.  This  is  matter  of  fact,  which 
cannot  be  denied.  Explain  this,  and  make  it  intelligible,  and 
then  the  next  step  will  be  to  understand  creation.  For  the 
giving  a  new  determination  to  the  motion  of  the  animal  spirits 
(which  some  make  use  of  to  explain  voluntary  motion)  clears 
not  the  difficulty  one  jot  :  to  alter  the  determination  of  motion 
being  in  this  case  no  easier  nor  less  than  to  give  motion  itself; 
since  the  new  determination  given  to  the  animal  spirits  must  be 
either  immediately  by  thought,  or  by  some  other  body  put  in  then- 
way  by  thought,  which  was  not  in  their  way  before,  and  so  must 
owe  its  motion  to  thought :  either  of  which  leaves  voluntary  mo- 
tion as  unintelligible  as  it  was  before.  In  the  mean  time  it  is  an 
overvaluing  ourselves  to  reduce  all  to  the  narrow  measure  of  ©in- 
capacities, and  to  conclude  all  things  impossible  to  be  done,  wrhose 
manner  of  doing  exceeds  our  comprehension.  This  is  to  make 
our  comprehension  infinite,  or  God  finite,  when  what  we  can  do 
is  limited  to  what  we  can  conceive  of  it.  If  you  do  not  under- 
stand the  operations  of  your  own  finite  mind,  that  thinking  thing 
within  you,  do  not  deem  it  strange,  that  you  cannot  comprehend 
the  operations  of  that  eternal  infinite  mind,  who  made  and  go- 
\«  ins  all  things,  and  whom  the  heaven  of  heavens  cannot  con- 
fain. 


162 


CHAPTER    XI. 

OF    OUR   KNOWLEDGE  OF    THE  EXISTENCE  OF  [OTHER    THINGS. 

§  1.  IT  IS    TO  BE  HAD   ONLY    BY  SENSATION. 

The  knowledge  of  our  own  being  we  have  by  intuition.  The 
existence  of  a  God  reason  clearly  makes  known  to  us,  as  has 
been  shown. 

The  knowledge  of  the  existence  of  any  other  thing  we  can 
have  only  by  sensation  :  for  there  being  no  necessary  connexion 
of  real  existence  with  any  idea  a  man  hath  in  his  memory,  nor 
of  any  other  existence  but  that  of  God,  with  the  existence  of 
any  particular  man  ;  no  particular  man  can  know  the  existence 
of  any  other  being,  but  only  when  by  actual  operating  upon  him 
it  makes  itself  perceived  by  him.  For  the  having  the  idea  of 
any  thing  in  our  mind  no  more  proves  the  existence  of  that  thing, 
than  the  picture  of  a  man  evidences  his  being  in  the  world,  or 
the  visions  of  a  dream  make  thereby  a  true  history. 

§  2.    INSTANCE,    WHITENESS  OF  THIS  PAPER. 

It  is  therefore  the  actual  receiving  of  ideas  from  without,  that. 
gives  us  notice  of  the  existence  of  other  things,  and  makes  us 
know  that  something  doth  exist  at  that  time  without  us,  which 
causes  that  idea  in  us,  though  perhaps  we  neither  know  nor 
consider  how  it  does  it :  for  it  takes  not  from  the  certainty  of 
our  senses,  and  the  ideas  we  receive  by  them,  that  we  know  not 
the  manner  wherein  they  are  produced  ;  v.  g.  whilst  I  write  this 
I  have,  by  the  paper  affecting  my  eyes,  that  idea  produced  in  my 
mind  which,  whatever  object  causes,  I  call  white  ;  by  which  I 
know  that  that  quality  or  accident  (i.  e.  whose  appearance  before 
my  eyes  always  causes  that  idea)  doth  really  exist,  and  hath  a 
being  without  me.  And  of  this,  the  greatest  assurance  I  can 
possibly  have,  and  to  which  my  faculties  can  attain,  is  the  testi- 
mony of  my  eyes,  which  are  the  proper  and  sole  judges  of  this 
thing,  whose  testimony  I  have  reason  to  rely  on  as  so  certain, 
that  I  can  no  more  doubt,  whilst  I  write  this,  that  I  see  white 
and  black,  and  that  something  really  exists,  that  causes  that 
sensation  in  me,  than  that  I  write  or  move  my  hand  :  which  is  a 
certainty  as  great  as  human  nature  is  capable  of,  concerning  the 
existence  of  any  thing  but  a  man's  self  alone,  and  of  God. 

5  3.  THIS,  THOUGH  NOT  SO  CERTAIN  AS  DEMONSTRATION,  VET  MAY  BE 
CALLED  KNOWLEDGE,  AND  PROVES  THE  EXISTENCE  OF  THINGS  WITH- 
OUT US. 

The  notice  we  have  by  our  senses  of  the  existing  of  things 
without  \is.  though  it  be  not  altoerether  so  certain  as  our  intuitive 


CH.  XI.]  KNOWLEDGE  OF  THE  EXISTENCE,  ETC.  163 

knowledge,  or  the  deductions  of  our  reason,  employed  about 
the  clear  abstract  ideas  of  our  own  minds  ;  yet  it  is  an  assurance 
that  deserves  the  name  of  knowledge.  If  we  persuade  ourselves 
that  our  faculties  act  and  inform  us  right,  concerning  the  exist- 
ence of  those  objects  that  affect  them,  it  cannot  pass  for  an  ill- 
grounded  confidence :  for  I  think  nobody  can,  in  earnest,  be  so 
skeptical  as  to  be  uncertain  of  the  existence  of  those  things 
which  he  sees  and  feels.  At  least,  he  that  can  doubt  so  far 
(whatever  he  may  have  with  his  own  thoughts)  will  never  have 
any  controversy  with  me  ;  since  he  can  never  be  sure  I  say  any 
thing  contrary  to  his  own  opinion.  As  to  myself,  I  think  God 
has  given  me  assurance  enough  of  the  existence  of  things  with- 
out me  ;  since  by  their  different  application  I  can  produce  in 
myself  both  pleasure  and  pain,  which  is  one  great  concernment 
of  my  present  state.  This  is  certain,  the  confidence  that  our 
laculties  do  not  herein  deceive  us  is  the  greatest  assurance  we 
are  capable  of,  concerning  the  existence  of  material  beings. 
For  we  cannot  act  any  thing  but  by  our  faculties  ;  nor  talk  of 
knowledge  itself,  but  by  the  helps  of  those  faculties,  which  are 
fitted  to  apprehend  even  what  knowledge  is.  But  besides  the 
assurance  we  have  from  our  senses  themselves,  that  they  do  not 
err  in  the  information  they  give  us,  of  the  existence  of  things 
without  us,  when  they  are  affected  by  them,  we  are  farther  con- 
firmed in  this  assurance  by  other  concurrent  reasons. 

<}  4.       1.    BECAUSE  WE  CANNOT    HAVE    THEM  BUT  BY  THE  INLET  OF  THE 

SENSES. 

First,  it  is  plain  those  perceptions  are  produced  in  us  by  exte- 
rior causes  affecting  our  senses  :  because  those  that  want  the 
organs  of  any  sense  never  can  have  the  ideas  belonging  to  that 
sense  produced  in  their  minds.  This  is  too  evident  to  be  doubt- 
ed :  and  therefore  we  cannot  but  be  assured  that  they  come  in 
by  the  organs  of  that  sense,  and  no  other  way.  The  organs 
themselves,  it  is  plain,  do  not  produce  them ;  for  then  the  eyes 
of  a  man  in  the  dark  would  produce  colours,  and  his  nose  smell 
roses  in  the  winter  :  but  we  see  nobody  gets  the  relish  of  a  pine- 
apple till  he  goes  to  the  Indies,  where  it  is,  and  tastes  it. 

§  5.    2.  BECAUSE  AN  IDEA  FROM  ACTUAL  SENSATION,  AND  ANOTHER  FROM 
MEMORY,  ARE  VERY  DISTINCT  1'ERCEPTIONS. 

Secondly,  because  sometimes  I  find  that  I  cannot  avoid  the 
having  those  ideas  produced  in  my  mind.  For  though  when  my 
eyes  are  shut,  or  windows  fast,  I  can  at  pleasure  recall  to  my 
mind  the  ideas  of  light,  or  the  sun,  which  former  sensations  had 
lodged  in  my  memory  ;  so  I  can  at  pleasure  lay  by  that  idea,  and 
take  into  my  view  that  of  the  smell  of  a  rose,  or  taste  of  sugar. 
But  if  I  turn  my  eves  at  noon  towards  the  sun,  I  cannot  avoid 
the  ideas,  which  the  light,  or  sun,  then  produces  in  me.  So  that 
there  is  a  manifest  difference  between  the  ideas  laid  up  in  my 


164  KNOWLEDGE  OF  JUL  |_BOO'K  Ilf 

memory  (over  which,  if  they  were  there  only,  I  should  have 
constantly  the  same  power  to  dispose  of  them,  and  lay  them  by 
at  pleasure)  and  those  which  force  themselves  upon  me,  and  1 
cannot  avoid  having.  And  therefore  it  must  needs  be  some  ex- 
terior cause,  and  the  brisk  acting  of  some  objects  without  me, 
wThose  efficacy  I  cannot  resist,  that  produces  those  ideas  in  my 
mind,  whether  I  will  or  no.  Besides,  there  is  nobody  who  doth 
not  perceive  the  difference  in  himself  between  contemplating  the 
sun,  as  he  hath  the  idea  of  it  in  his  memory,  and  actually  looking 
upon  it ;  of  which  two  his  perception  is  so  distinct,  that  few  of 
his  ideas  are  more  distinguishable  one  from  another.  And  there- 
fore he  hath  certain  knowledge,  that  they  are  not  both  memory, 
or  the  actions  of  his  mind,  and  fancies  only  within  him  ;  but 
that  actual  seeing  hath  a  cause  without. 

§  6.  3.  PLEASURE  OR  PAIN  WHICH  ACCOMPANIES  ACTUAL  SENSATION, 
ACCOMPANIES  NOT  THE  RETURNING  OF  THOSE  IDEAS  WITHOUT  THE 
EXTERNAL  OBJECT^. 

Thirdly,  add  to  this,  that  many  of  those  ideas  are  produced  in 
us  with  pain,  which  afterward  we  remember  without  the  least 
offence.  Thus  the  pain  of  heat  or  cold,  when  the  idea  of  it  is 
revived  in  our  minds,  gives  us  no  disturbance ;  which,  when  felt, 
was  very  troublesome,  and  is  again,  when  actually  repeated  ; 
which  is  occasioned  by  the  disorder  the  external  object  causes 
in  our  bodies  when  applied  to  it.  And  we  remember  the  pains 
of  hunger,  thirst,  or  the  headach,  without  any  pain  at  all ;  which 
would  either  never  disturb  us,  or  else  constantly  do  it,  as  often 
as  we  thought  of  it,  were  there  nothing  more  but  ideas  floating 
in  our  minds,  and  appearances  entertaining  our  fancies,  without 
the  real  existence  of  things  affecting  us  from  abroad.  The 
same  may  be  said  of  pleasure  accompanying  several  actual  sen- 
sations/and  though  mathematical  demonstrations  depend  not  upon 
sense,  yet  the  examining  them  by  diagrams  gives  great  credit  to 
the  evidence  of  our  sight,  and  seems  to  give  it  a  certainty  ap- 
proaching to  that  of  demonstration  itself.  For  it  would  be  very 
strange  that  a  man  should  allow  it  for  an  undeniable  truth,  that 
two  angles  of  a  figure,  which  he  measures  by  lines  and  angles 
of  a  diagram,  should  be  bigger  one  than  the  other  ;  and  yet 
doubt  of  the  existence  of  those  lines  and  angles,  which  by  look- 
ing on  he  makes  use  of  to  measure  that  by. 

§  7.    4.  OUR  SENSES  ASSIST    ONE  ANOTHER'S  TESTIMONY  OF  THE  EXIST- 
ENCE OF   OUTWARD  THINGS. 

Fourthly,  our  senses  in  many  cases  bear  witness  to  the  truth 
of  each  other's  report,  concerning  the  existence  of  sensible 
things  without  us.  He  that  sees  a  fire  may,  if  he  doubt  whether 
it  be  any  thing  more  than  a  bare  fancy,  feel  it  too  ;  and  be  con- 
vinced by  putting  his  hand  in  it :  which  certainly  could  never  be 
put  into  such  exquisite  pain  by  a  bare  idea  or  phantom,  unless 


til.   M. 1  EXISTENCE  OF  OTHER  THINGS.  lUo 

that  the  pain  be  a  fancy  too,  which  yet  he  cannot,  when  the  burn 
is  well,  by  raising  the  idea  of  it,  bring  upon  himself  again. 

Thus  I  see,  whilst  I  write  this,  I  can  change  the  appearance 
of  the  paper  :  and  by  designing  the  letters  tell  beforehand  what 
new  idea  it  shall  exhibit  the  very  next  moment,  by  barely  draw- 
ing my  pen  over  it  :  which  will  neither  appear  (let  me  fancy  as 
much  as  I  will)  if  my  hands  stand  still  ;  or  though  I  move  my 
pen,  if  my  eyes  be  shut  :  nor,  when  those  characters  are  once 
made  on  the  paper,  can  I  choose  afterward  but  see  them  as  they 
are :  that  is,  have  the  ideas  of  such  letters  as  I  have  made. 
Whence  it  is  manifest,  that  they  are  not  barely  the  sport  and  play 
of  my  own  imagination,  when  I  find  that  the  characters,  that 
were  made  at  the  pleasure  of  my  own  thought,  do  not  obey 
them  ;  nor  yet  cease  to  be,  whenever  I  shall  fancy  it ;  but  con- 
tinue to  affect  the  senses  constantly  and  regularly,  according  to 
the  figures  I  made  them.  To  which  if  we  will  add,  that  the 
sight  of  those  shall,  from  another  man,  draw  such  sounds  as  I 
beforehand  design  they  shall  stand  for ;  there  will  be  little  reason 
left  to  doubt  that  those  words  I  write  do  really  exist  without  me, 
when  they  cause  a  long  series  of  regular  sounds  to  affect  my 
ears,  which  could  not  be  the  effect  of  my  imagination,  nor  could 
my  memory  retain  them  in  that  order. 

§  8.    THIS  CERTAINTY  IS  AS  GREAT  AS  OUR  CONDITION   NEEDS. 

But  yet,  if  after  all  this  any  one  will  be  so  skeptical  as  to  dis- 
trust his  senses,  and  to  affirm  that  all  we  sec  and  hear,  feel  and 
taste,  think  and  do,  during  our  whole  being,  is  but  the  series  and 
deluding  appearances  of  a  long  dream,  whereof  there  is  no 
reality ;  and  therefore  will  question  the  existence  of  all  things, 
or  our  knowledge  of  any  thing ;  I  must  desire  him  to  consider, 
that,  if  all  be  a  dream,  then  he  doth  but  dream  that  he  makes 
the  question ;  and  so  it  is  not  much  matter  that  a  waking  man 
should  answer  him.  But  yet,  if  he  pleases,  he  may  dream  that 
I  make  him  this  answer,  that  the  certainty  of  things  existing  in 
rerum  natura,  when  we  have  the  testimony  of  our  senses  for  it, 
is  not  only  as  great  as  our  frame  can  attain  to,  but  as  our  condi- 
tion needs.  For  our  faculties  being  suited  not  to  the  full  extent 
of  being,  nor  to  a  perfect,  clear,  comprehensive  knowledge  of 
things,  free  from  all  doubt  and  scruple  ;  but  to  the  preservation 
of  us,  in  whom  they  are,  and  accommodated  to  the  use  of  life  ; 
they  serve  to  our  purpose  well  enough,  if  they  will  but  give  us 
certain  notice  of  those  things  which  are  convenient  or  incon- 
venient to  us.  For  he  that  sees  a  candle  burning,  and  hath 
experimented  the  force  of  its  flame,  by  putting  his  finger  in 
it,  will  little  doubt  that  this  is  something  existing  without 
him,  which  does  him  harm,  and  puts  him  to  great  pain : 
which  is  assurance  enough,  when  no  man  requires  greater  cer- 
tainty to  govern  his  actions  by  than  what  is  as  certain  as  his 
actions  themselves.     And  if  our  dreamer  pleases  to  try  whrthn 

Vol,.   T I 


10G  KNOWLEDGE  OF  THE  [BOOK  IV 

the  o-lowing  heat  of  a  glass  furnace  be  barely  a  wandering  ima- 
gination in  a  drowsy  man's  fancy ;  by  putting  his  hand  into  it 
he  may  perhaps  be  wakened  into  a  certainty  greater  than  he 
could  wish,  that  it  is  something  more  than  bare  imagination. 
So  that  this  evidence  is  as  great  as  we  can  desire,  being  as 
certain  to  us  as  our  pleasure  or  pain,  i.  e.  happiness  or  misery  ; 
beyond  which  we  have  no  concernment,  either  of  knowing  or 
being.  Such  an  assurance  of  the  existence  of  things  without  us 
is  sufficient  to  direct  us  in  the  attaining  the  good,  and  avoiding 
the  evil,  which  is  caused  by  them  ;  Which  is  the  important  con- 
cernment we  have  of  being  made  acquainted  with  them. 

§  9.    BUT  REACHES  NO  FARTHER  THAN  ACTUAL  SENSATION. 

In  fine,  then,  when  our  senses  do  actually  convey  into  our 
understandings  any  idea,  we  cannot  but  be  satisfied  that  there 
doth  something  at  that  time  really  exist  without  us,  which  doth 
affect  our  senses,  and  by  them  give  notice  of  itself  to  our  appre- 
hensive faculties,  and  actually  produce  that  idea  which  we  then 
perceive  :  and  we  cannot  so  far  distrust  their  testimony  as  to 
doubt,  that  such  collections  of  simple  ideas,  as  we  have  observed 
by  our  senses  to  be  united  together,  do  really  exist  together. 
But  this  knowledge  extends  as  far  as  the  present  testimony  of 
our  senses,  employed  about  particular  objects  that  do  then  affect 
them,  and  no  farther.     For  if  I  saw  such  a  collection  of  simple 
ideas,  as  is  wont  to  be  called  man,  existing  together  one  minute 
since,  and  am  now  alone,  I  cannot  be  certain  that  the  same  man 
exists  now,  since  there  is  no  necessary  connexion  of  his  exist- 
ence a  minute   since  with  his   existence  now  :  by  a  thousand 
wavs  he  may  cease  to  be,  since  I  had  the  testimony  of  my  senses 
forhis  existence.     And  if  I  cannot  be   certain  that  the  man  I 
saw  last  to-day  is  now  in  being,  I  can  less  be  certain  that  he  is 
so,  who  hath  been  longer  removed  from  my  senses,  and  I  have 
not  seen  since  yesterday,  or  since  the  last  year  :  and  much  less 
can  I  be  certain  of  the  existence   of  men  that  I  never  saw. 
And  therefore  though  it  be  highly  probable  that  millions  of  men 
do  now  exist,  yet,  whilst  I  am  alone  writing  this,  I  have  not  that 
certainty  of  it  which  we   strictly  call  knowledge  ;  though  the 
great  likelihood  of  it  puts  me  past  doubt,  and  it  be  reasonable 
for  me  to  do  several  things  upon  the  confidence  that  there  are 
men  (and  men  also  of  my  acquaintance,  with  whom  I  have  to 
do)  now  in  the  world :  but  this  is  but  probability,  not  know- 
ledge. 

$  10.    FOLLY  TO  EXPECT  DEMONSTRATION  IN  EVERY  THING. 

Whereby  yet  we  may  observe,  how  foolish  and  vain  a  thing  it 
rs  for  a  man  of  a  narrow  knowledge,  who  having  reason  given 
him  to  judge  of  the  different  evidence  and  probability  of  things, 
and  to  be  swayed  accordingly, — how  vain.  I  say.  it  is  to  expect 


CH  XI.]  EXISTENCE  QV  OTHER  THINGS.  167 

demonstration  and  certainty  in  things  not  capable  of  it,  and 
refuse  assent  to  very  rational  propositions,  and  act  contrary  to 
very  plain  and  clear  truths,  because  they  cannot  be  made  out  so 
evident  as  to  surmount  every  the  least  (I  will  not  say  reason  but) 
pretence  of  doubting.  He  that  in  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life 
would  admit  of  nothing  but  direct  plain  demonstration,  would 
be  sure  of  nothing  in  this  world,  but  of  perishing  quickly.  The 
wholesomeness  of  his  meat  or  drink  would  not  give,  him  reason 
to  venture  on  it :  and  I  would  fain  know,  what  it  is  he  could  do 
upon  such  grounds  as  are  capable  of  no  doubt,  no  objection. 

§  11.    PAST  EXISTENCE  13   KNOWN  BY   MEMORY. 

As  when  our  senses  are  actually  employed  about  any  object, 
we  do  know  that  it  does  exist ;  so  by  our  memory  we  may  be 
assured,  that  heretofore  things  that  affected  our  senses  have 
existed.  And  thus  we  have  knowledge  of  the  past  existence  of 
several  things,  whereof  our  senses  having  informed  us,  our 
memories  still  retain  the  ideas  ;  and  of  this  we  are  past  all  doubt, 
so  long  as  we  remember  well.  But  this  knowledge  also  reaches 
no  farther  than  our  senses  have  formerly  assured  us.  Thus 
seeing  water  at  this  instant,  it  is  an  unquestionable  truth  to  me 
that  water  doth  exist :  and  remembering  that  I  saw  it  yesterday, 
it  will  also  be  always  true,  and,  as  long  as  my  memory  retains 
it,  always  an  undoubted  proposition  to  me,  that  water  did  exist 
the  10th  of  July,  1688,  as  it  will  also  be  equally  true,  that  a  cer- 
tain number  of  very  fine  colours  did  exist,  which  at  the  same 
time  I  saw  upon  a  bubble  of  that  water  :  but,  being  now  quite, 
out  of  the  sight  both  of  the  water  and  bubbles  too,  it  is  no  more 
certainly  known  to  me  that  the  water  doth  now  exist,  than  that 
the  bubbles  or  colours  therein  do  so  ;  it  being  no  more  neces- 
sary that  water  should  exist  to-day,  because  it  existed  yesterday, 
than  that  the  colours  or  bubbles  exist  to-day  because  they  existed 
yesterday ;  though  it  be  exceedingly  much  more  probable,  because 
water  hath  been  observed  to  continue  long  in  existence,  but 
bubbles  and  the  colours  on  them  quickly  cease  to  be. 

§  12.    THE  EXISTENCE  OP  SPIRITS  NOT  KNOWABLE. 

What  ideas  we  have  of  spirits,  and  how  we  come  by  them,  1 
have  already  shown.  But  though  we  have  those  ideas  in  our 
minds,  and  know  we  have  them  there,  the  having  the  ideas  of 
spirits  docs  not  make  us  know  that  any  such  things  do  exi.st 
without  us,  or  that  there  are  any  finite  spirits,  or  any  other 
spiritual  beings  but  the  eternal  God.  We  have  ground  from 
revelation,  and  several  other  reasons,  to  believe  with  assurance 
that  there  are  such  creatures  :  but,  our  senses  not  being  able  to 
discover  them,  we  want  the  means  of  knowing  their  particular 
existences.  For  we  can  no  more  know,  that  there  are  finite 
spirits  really  existing,  by  the  idea  Ave  have  of  such  bemgs  in  our 
minds,  than  by  the  ideas  any  one  has  of  fairies,  or  centaurs,  he 


168  KNOWLEDGE  OF  THE  EXISTENCE,  ETC.  [BOOK  IV. 

can  come  to  know  that  things  answering  those  ideas  do  really 
exist. 

And  therefore  concerning  the  existence  of  finite  spirits,  as 
well  as  several  other  things,  we  must  content  ourselves  with  the 
evidence  of  faith  ;  but  universal  certain  propositions  concerning 
this  matter  are  beyond  our  reach.  For  however  true  it  may  be, 
v.  g.  that  all  the  intelligent  spirits  that  God  ever  created  do  still 
exist  ;  yet  it  can  never  make  a  part  of  our  certain  knowledge. 
These  and  the  like  propositions  we  may  assent  to  as  highly  pro- 
bable, but  are  not,  I  fear,  in  this  state  capable  of  knowing.  We 
are  not  then  to  put  others  upon  demonstrating,  nor  ourselves 
upon  search  of  universal  certainty,  in  all  those  matters,  wherein 
we  are  not  capable  of  any  other  knowledge,  but  what  our  senses 
give  us  in  this  or  that  particular. 

§   13.     PARTICULAR   PROPOSITIONS  CONCERNING    EXISTENCE    ARE  KNOW- 
ABLE. 

By  which  it  appears,  that  there  are  two  sorts  of  propositions, 
1 .  There  is  one  sort  of  propositions  concerning  the  existence  of 
any  thing  answerable  to  such  an  idea :  as  having  the  idea  of  an 
elephant,  phoenix,  motion,  or  an  angel,  in  my  mind,  the  first  and 
natural  inquiry  is,  Whether  such  a  thing  does  any  where  exist  ? 
And  this  knowledge  is  only  of  particulars.  No  existence  of  any 
thing  without  us,  but  only  of  God,  can  certainly  be  known  far- 
ther than  our  senses  inform  us.  2.  There  is  another  sort  of 
propositions,  wherein  is  expressed  the  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment of  our  abstract  ideas,  and  their  dependence  on  one  another. 
Such  propositions  may  be  universal  and  certain.  So  having  the 
idea  of  God  and  myself,  of  fear  and  obedience,  I  cannot  but  be 
sure  that  God  is  to  be  feared  and  obeyed  by  me ;  and  this  propo- 
sition will  be  certain,  concerning  man  in  general,  if  I  have  made 
an  abstract  idea  of  such  a  species,  whereof  I  am  one  particular. 
But  yet  this  proposition,  how  certain  soever,  that  men  ought  to 
fear  and  obey  God,  proves  not  to  me  the  existence  of  men  in  the 
world,  but  will  be  true  of  all  such  creatures,  whenever  they  do 
exist  :  which  certainty  of  such  general  propositions  depends  on 
the  agreement  or  disagreement  to  be  discovered  in  those  abstract 
ideas. 

§    14.    AND  GENERAL  PROPOSITIONS    CONCERNING  ABSTRACT  IDEAS. 

In  the  former  case,  our  knowledge  is  the  consequence  of  the 
existence  of  things  producing  ideas  in  our  minds  by  our  senses  : 
in  the  latter,  knowledge  is  the  consequence  of  the  ideas  (be  they 
what  they  will)  that  are  in  our  minds,  producing  there  general 
certain  propositions.  Many  of  these  are  called  ceternos  vcritates> 
and  all  of  them  indeed  are  so  ;  not  from  being  written  all  or  any 
of  them  in  the  minds  of  all  men,  or  that  they  were  any  of 
them  propositions  in  one's  mind  till  he,  having  got  the  abstract 
ideas,  joined  or  separated  them  by  affirmation  or  negation.     But 


,■][,  XII.  J  IMPROVEMENT  OP  OUR  KNOWLEDGE.  Ib'tt 

wheresoever  we  can  suppose  such  a  creature  as  man  is,  endowed 
with  such  faculties,  and  thereby  furnished  with  such  ideas  as  we 
have,  we  must  conclude,  he  must  needs,  when  he  applies  his 
thoughts  to  the  consideration  of  his  ideas,  know  the  truth  of 
certain  propositions,  that  will  arise  from  the  agreement  or  dis- 
agreement which  he  will  perceive  in  his  own  ideas.  Such  propo- 
sitions are  therefore  called  eternal  truths,  not  because  they  are 
eternal  propositions  actually  formed,  and  antecedent  to  the  un- 
derstanding, that  at  any  time  makes  them  ;  nor  because  they  are 
imprinted  on  the  mind  from  any  patterns,  that  are  anywhere  out 
of  the  mind,  and  existed  before  :  but  because  being  once  made 
about  abstract  ideas,  so  as  to  be  true,  they  will,  whenever  they 
can  be  supposed  to  be  made  again  at  any  time  past  or  to  come, 
by  a  mind  having  those  ideas,  always  actually  be  true.  For 
names  being  supposed  to  stand  perpetually  for  the  same  ideas, 
and  the  same  ideas  having  immutably  the  same  habitudes  one  to 
another,  propositions  concerning  any  abstract  ideas,  that  are 
once  true,  must  needs  be  eternal  verities. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

OF  THE  IMPROVEMENT  OF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE. 

§    I.   KNOWLEDGE    IS  NOT  FROM  MAXIMS. 

It  having  been  the  common  received  opinion  among  men  of 
letters,  that  maxims  were  the  foundation  of  all  knowledge  ;  and 
that  the  sciences  were  each  of  them  built  upon  certain  prazcognita, 
from  whence  the  understanding  was  to  take  its  rise,  and  by  which 
it  was  to  •  oncluct  itself,  in  its  inquiries  into  the  matters  belonging 
to  that  science ;  the  beaten  road  of  the  schools  has  been,  to  lay 
down  in  the  beginning  one  or  more  general  propositions,  as  foun- 
dations whereon  to  build  the  knowledge  that  was  to  be  had  ol 
that  subject.  These  doctrines,  thus  laid  down  for  foundations  of 
any  sience,  were  called  principles,  as  the  beginnings,  from 
which  we  must  set  out,  and  look  no  farther  backwards  in  our 
inquiries,  as  we  have  already  observed. 

§  2.    (THE    OCCASION  OF   THAT  OPINION.) 

One  thing  which  might  probably  give  an  occasion  to  this  way 
of  proceeding  in  other  sciences,  was  (as  I  suppose)  the  good 
success  it  seemed  to  have  in  mathematics,  wherein  men  being- 
observed  to  attain  a  great  certainty  of  knowledge,  these  sciences 
came  by  pre-eminence  to  be  called  m^.iw*7«,  and  m«^j-;5,  learn- 
ing, or  things  learned,  thoroughly  learned,  as  having  of  all  others 
the  greatest  certainty,  clearness,  and  evidence  in  them. 


1 70  IMPROVEMENT  OF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE.        [BOOK  IV. 

§  3.    BUT   FROM  THE    COMPARING  CLEAR  AND  DISTINCT  IDEAS. 

But  if  any  one  will  consider,  he  will  (I  guess)  find,  that  the 
great  advancement  and  certainty  of  real  knowledge,  which  men 
arrived  to  in  these  sciences,  was  not  owing  to  the  influence  of 
these  principles,  nor  derived  from  any  peculiar  advantage  they 
received  from  two  or  three  general  maxims,  laid  down  in  the 
beginning ;  but  from  the  clear,  distinct,  complete  ideas  their 
thoughts  were  employed  about,  and  the  relation  of  equality  and 
excess  so  clear  between  some  of  them,  that  they  had  an  intuitive 
knowledge,  and  by  that  a  way  to  discover  it  in  others,  and  this 
without  the  help  of  those  maxims.  For  I  ask,  is  it  not  possible 
for  a  young  lad  to  know,  that  his  whole  body  is  bigger  than  his 
little  finger,  but  by  virtue  of  this  axiom,  that  the  whole  is  bigger 
than  a  part ;  nor  be  assured  of  it,  till  he  has  learned  that  maxim  ? 
Or  cannot  a  country  wench  know,  ""hat  having  received  a  shilling 
from  one  that  owes  her  three,  and  a  shilling  also  from  another 
that  owes  her  three,  the  remaining  debts  in  each  of  their  hands 
are  equal  ?  Cannot  she  know  this,  I  say,  unless  she  fetch  the 
certainty  of  it  from  this  maxim,  that  if  you  take  equals  from 
equals,  the  remainder  will  be  equals,  a  maxim  which  possibly 
she  never  heard  or  thought  of  ?  I  desire  any  one  to  consider, 
from  what  has  been  elsewhere  said,  which  is  known  first  and 
clearest  by  most  people,  the  particular  instance,  or  the  general 
rule  ;  and  which  it  is  that  gives  life  and  birth  to  the  other  ? 
These  general  rules  are  but  the  comparing  our  more  general 
and  abstract  ideas,  which  are  the  workmanship  of  the  mind 
made,  and  names  given  to  them,  for  the  easier  despatch  in  its 
reasonings,  and  drawing  into  comprehensive  terms,  and  short 
rules,  its  various  and  multiplied  observations.  But  knowledge 
began  in  the  mind,  and  was  founded  on  particulars ;  though 
afterward,  perhaps,  no  notice  be  taken  thereof :  it  being  natural 
for  the  mind  (forward  still  to  enlarge  its  knowledge)  most 
attentively  to  lay  up  those  general  notions,  and  make  the  pro- 
per use  of  them,  which  is  to  disburden  the  memory  of  the 
cumbersome  load  of  particulars.  For  I  desire  it  may  be  con- 
sidered what  more  certainty  there  is  to  a  child,  or  any  one,  that 
his  body,  little  finger  and  all,  is  bigger  than  his  little  finger  alone, 
after  you  have  given  to  his  body  the  name  whole,  and  to  his 
little  finger  the  name  part,  than  he  could  have  had  before  ;  or 
what  new  knowledge  concerning  his  body  can  these  two  rela- 
tive terms  give  him,  which  he  could  not  have  without  them  ? 
Could  he  not  know  that  his  body  was  bigger  than  his  little  finger, 
if  his  language  were  yet  so  imperfect,  that  he  no  such  relative 
terms  as  whole  and  part  ?  I  ask  farther,  when  he  has  got  these 
names,  how  is  he  more  certain  that  his  body  is  a  whole,  and  his 
little  finger  a  part,  than  he  was  or  might  be  certain,  before  he 
learnt  those  terms,  that  his  body  was  bigger  than  his  little  finger  ? 
Any  one  may  as  reasonably  doubt  or  deny  that  his  little  finger 
is  a  part  of  his  body,  as  that  it  is  less  than  his  body.     And  he 


Ul.  XII.]  IMPROVEMENT  OF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE.  171 

that  can  doubt  whether  it  be  less,  will  as  certainly  doubt  whe- 
ther it  be  a  part.  So  that  the  maxim,  the  whole  is  bigger  than 
a  part,  can  never  be  made  use  of  to  prove  the  little  finger  less 
than  the  body,  but  when  it  is  useless,  by  being  brought  to  con- 
vince one  of  a  truth  which  he  knows  already.  For  he  that  does 
not  certainly  know  that  any  parcel  of  matter,  with  another  parcel 
of  matter  joined  to  it,  is  bigger  than  either  of  them  alone,  will 
never  be  able  to  know  it  by  the  help  of  these  two  relative  terms 
whole  and  part,  make  of  them  what  maxim  you  please. 

<S  4.    DANGEROUS  TO  BUILD  UPON   PRECARIOUS   PRINCIPLES. 

But  be  it  in  the  mathematics  as  it  will,  whether  it  be  clearer, 
that  taking  an  inch  from  a  black  line  of  twro  inches,  and  an  inch 
from  a  red  line  of  two  inches,  the  remaining  parts  of  the  twro  lines 
will  be  equal,  or  that  if  you  take  equals  from  equals,  the  remainder 
will  be  equals  :  which,  I  say,  of  these  two  is  the  clearer  and  first, 
known,  I  leave  it  to  any  one  to  determine,  it  not  being  material 
to  my  present  occasion.  That  wrhich  I  have  here  to  do,  is  to 
inquire,  whether  if  it  be  the  readiest  way  to  knowledge  to  begin 
with  general  maxims,  and  build  upon  them,  it  be  yet  a  safe  way 
to  take  the  principles  which  are  laid  down  in  any  other  science 
as  unquestionable  truths ;  and  so  receive  them  without  exa- 
mination, and  adhere  to  them,  without  suifering  them  to  be 
doubted  of,  because  mathematicians  have  been  so  happy,  or  so 
fair,  to  use  none  but  self-evident  and  undeniable.  If  this  be  so, 
I  know  not  what  may  not  pass  for  truth  in  morality,  what  may 
not  be  introduced  and  proved  in  natural  philosophy. 

Let  that  principle  of  some  of  the  philosophers,  that  all  is 
matter,  and  that  there  is  nothing  else,  be  received  for  certain 
and  indubitable,  and  it  will  be  easy  to  be  seen,  by  the  writings 
of  some  that  have  revived  it  again  in  our  days,  what  conse- 
quences it  will  lead  us  into.  Let  any  one,  with  Polemo,  take 
the  world  ;  or  with  the  stoics,  the  aether,  or  the  sun  ;  or  with 
Anaximenes,  the  air,  to  be  God  ;  and  what  a  divinity,  religion, 
and  worship  must  we  needs  have  !  Nothing  can  be  so  danger- 
ous as  principles  thus  taken  up  without  questioning  or  examina- 
tion ;  especially  if  they  be  such  as  concern  morality,  which 
influence  men's  lives,  and  give  a  bias  to  all  their  actions.  Who 
might  not  justly  expect  another  kind  of  life  in  Aristippus,  who 
placed  happiness  in  bodily  pleasure  ;  and  in  Antisthenes,  who 
made  virtue  sufficient  to  felicity  ?  And  he  who,  with  Plato,  shall 
place  beatitude  in  the  knowledge  of  God,  will  have  his  thoughts 
raised  to  other  contemplations  than  those  who  look  not  beyond 
this  spot  of  earth,  and  those  perishing  things  which  are  to  be 
had  in  it.  He  that,  with  Archelaus,  shall  lay  it  down  as  a  prin- 
ciple, that  right  and  wrong,  honest  and  dishonest,  are  defined 
only  by  laws,  and  not  by  nature,  will  have  other  measures  of 
moral  rectitude  and  pravity  than  those  who  take  it.  for  granted- 


172  IMPROVEMENT  OF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE.         [BOOK  IV. 

that  we  are  under  obligations  antecedent  to  all  human  constitu- 
tions. 

§  5.    THIS  IS  NO  CERTAIN  WAY  TO  TRUTH. 

If  therefore  those  that  pass  for  principles  are  not  certain 
(which  we  must  have  some  way  to  know,  that  we  may  be  able 
to  distinguish  them  from  those  that  are  doubtful)  but  are  only 
made  so  to  us  by  our  blind  assent,  we  are  liable  to  be  misled  by 
them  ;  and  instead  of  being  guided  into  truth,  we  shall,  by  prin- 
ciples, be  only  confirmed  in  mistake  and  error. 

§  6.    BUT  TO  COMPARE  CLEAR  COMPLETE   IDEAS   UNDER  STEADY  NAMES. 

But  since  the  knowledge  of  the  certainty  of  principles,  as 
well  as  of  all  other  truths,  depends  only  upon  the  perception  we 
have  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  our  ideas,  the  way  to 
improve  our  knowledge  is  not,  I  am  sure,  blindly,  and  with  an 
implicit  faith,  to  receive  and  swallow  principles  ;  but  is,  I  think, 
to  get  and  fix  in  our  minds  clear,  distinct,  and  complete  ideas,  as 
far  as  they  are  to  be  had,  and  annex  to  them  proper  and  constant 
names.  And  thus,  perhaps,  without  any  other  principles  but 
barely  considering  those  ideas,  and  by  comparing  them  one  with 
another,  finding  their  agreement  and  disagreement,  and  their 
several  relations  and  habitudes  ;  we  shall  get  more  true  and 
clear  knowledge,  by  the  conduct  of  this  one  rule,  than  by  taking 
up  principles,  and  thereby  putting  our  minds  into  the  disposal  of 
others. 

$  7.    THE  TRUE  METHOD  OF  ADVANCING  KNOWLEDGE  IS  BY  CONSIDERING 
OUR  ABSTRACT  IDEAS. 

We  must,  therefore,  if  we  will  proceed  as  reason  advises, 
adapt  our  methods  of  inquiry  to  the  nature  of  the  ideas  we 
examine,  and  the  truth  we  search  after.  General  and  certain 
truths  are  only  founded  in  the  habitudes  and  relations  of  abstract 
ideas.  A  sagacious  and  methodical  application  of  our  thoughts, 
for  the  finding  out  these  relations,  is  the  only  way  to  discover  all 
that  can  be  put  with  truth  and  certainty  concerning  them  into 
general  propositions.  By  what  steps  we  are  to  proceed  in  these 
is  to  be  learned  in  the  schools  of  the  mathematicians,  who  from 
very  plain  and  easy  beginnings,  by  gentle  degrees,  and  a  conti- 
nued chain  of  reasonings,  proceed  to  the  discovery  and  demon- 
stration of  truths,  that  appear  at  first  sight  beyond  human  capa- 
city. The  art  of  finding  proofs,  and  the  admirable  methods  they 
have  invented  for  the  singling  out,  and  laying  in  order,  those 
intermediate  ideas  that  demonstrative^  show  the  equality  or 
inequality  of  inapplicable  quantities,  is  that  which  has  carried 
them  so  far,  and  produced  such  wonderful  and  unexpected 
discoveries  :  but  whether  something  like  this,  in  respect  of  other 
ideas,  as  well  as  those  of  magnitude,  may  not  in  time  be  found 
out.  I  will  not  determine.     This,  I  think,  I  may  say,  that  if  other 


qh.   MI.  I  IMPROVEMENT  OF  OUR  fcXOWLJBDUL  l?.j 

ideas,  that  are  the  real  as  well  as  nominal  essences,  of  their  species 
were  pursued  in  th$  way  familiar  to  mathematicians,  they  would 
carry  our  thoughts  farther,  and  with  greater  evidence  and  clear- 
ness, than  possibly  we  are  apt  to  imagine. 

§  8.     BY  WHICH  MORALITY   ALSO  MAY  Br.  MADE  CLEARER. 

This  gave  me  the  conlidence  to  advance  that  conjecture. 
which  I  suggest,  chap.  iii.  viz.  that  morality  is  capable  of  demon- 
stration as  well  as  mathematics.  For  the  ideas  that  ethics  are 
conversant  about  being  all  real  essences,  and  such  as  I  imagine 
have  a  discoverable  connexion  and  agreement  one  with  another: 
so  far  as  we  can  find  their  habitudes  and  relations,  so  far  we 
shall  be  possessed  of  certain  real  and  general  truths ;  and  I  doubt 
not,  but,  if  a  right  method  Avere  taken,  a  great  part  of  morality 
might  be  made  out  with  that  clearness,  that  could  leave,  to  a 
considering  man,  no  more  reason  to  doubt,  than  he  could  have  to 
doubt  of  the  truth  of  propositions  in  mathematics,  which  have 
been  demonstrated  to  him. 

§  9.      BUT  KNOWLEDGE  OK   EODIES  IS  TO  BE   IMPROVED  ONLY  BY   EX- 
PERIENCE. 

In  our  search  after  the  knowledge  of  substances,  our  want  of 
ideas,  that  are  suitable  to  such  a  way  of  proceeding,  obliges  us 
to  a  quite  different  method.  We  advance  not  here,  as  in  the 
other  (where  our  abstract  ideas  are  real  as  well  as  nominal 
essences)  by  contemplating  our  ideas,  and  considering  their  re- 
lations and  correspondencies  ;  that  helps  us  very  little,  for  the 
reasons  that,  in  another  place  we  have  at  large  set  down.  By 
which  I  think  it  is  evident,  that  substances  afford  matter  of  very 
little  general  knowledge ;  and  the  bare  contemplation  of  their 
abstract  ideas  will  carry  us  but  a  very  little  way  in  the  search  of 
truth  and  certainty.  What  then  are  we  to  do  for  the  improve- 
ment of  our  knowledge  in  substantial  beings  ?  Here  Ave  are  to 
take  quite  a  contrary  course  ;  the  want  of  ideas  of  their  real 
essences  sends  us  from  our  oavu  thoughts  to  the  things  themselves 
as  they  exist.  Experience  here  must  teach  me  Avhat  reason  can- 
not: and  it  is  by  trying  alone  that  I  can  certainly  know  what 
other  qualities  coexist  Avith  those  of  my  complex  idea,  v.  g. 
whether  that  yelloAv,  heavy,  fusible  body,  I  call  gold,  be  malleable 
or  no  ;  which  experience  (Avhich  Avay  ever  it  prove  in  that  par- 
ticular body  I  examine)  makes  me  not  certain  that  it  is  so  in  all, 
or  any  other  yelloAv,  heavy,  fusible  bodies,  but  that  which  I  have 
tried.  Because  it  is  no  consequence  one  way  or  the  other  from 
my  complex  idea ;  the  necessity  or  inconsistence  of  malleability 
hath  no  visible  connexion  with  the  combination  of  that  colour, 
Aveight,  and  fusibility  in  any  body.  What  1  have  here  said  of 
the  nominal  essence  of  gold,  supposed  to  consist  of  a  body  of 
such  a  determinate  colour,  Aveight,  and  fusibility,  will  hold  true, 
if  malleableness.  fixedness,  and  solubilitv  in  aqua  ro<ria  be  added 

Vol.   IT  28 


174  IMPROVEMENT  OF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK   IV. 

to  if.  Our  reasonings  from  these  ideas  will  carry  us  but  a  little- 
way  in  the  certain  discovery  of  the  other  properties  in  those 
masses  of  matter  wherein  all  these  are  to  be  found.  Because 
the  other  properties  of  such  bodies  depending  not  on  these,  but. 
on  that  unknown  real  essence  on  which  these  also  depend,  we 
cannot  by  them  discover  the  rest ;  we  can  go  no  farther  than  the 
simple  ideas  of  our  nominal  essence  will  carry  us,  which  is  very 
little  beyond  themselves ;  and  so  afford  us  but  very  sparingly  any 
certain,  universal,  and  useful  truths.  For  upon  trial  having  found, 
that  particular  piece  (and  all  others  of  that  colour,  weight,  and 
fusibility  that  I  ever  tried)  malleable,  that  also  makes  now  perhaps 
a  part  of  my  complex  idea,  part  of  my  nominal  essence  of  gold  : 
whereby  though  I  make  my  complex  idea,  to  which  I  affix  the 
name  gold,  to  consist  of  more  simple  ideas  than  before;  yet 
Still,  it  not  containing  the  real  essence  of  airy  species  of  bodies, 
it  helps  me  not,  certainly,  to  know  (I  say,  to  know,  perhaps  it 
may  to  conjecture)  the  other  remaining  properties  of  that  body, 
farther  than  they  have  a  visible  connexion  with  some  or  all  of 
the  simple  ideas  that  make  up  my  nominal  essence.  For  exam- 
ple, I  cannot  be  certain  from  this  complex  idea  whether  gold  be 
tixed  or  no ;  because,  as  before,  there  is  no  necessary  connexion 
or  inconsistence  to  be  discovered  betwixt  a  complex  idea  of  a 
body  yellow,  heavy,  fusible,  malleable — betwixt  these,  I  say,  and 
fixedness ;  so  that  I  may  certainly  know,  that  in  whatsoever  body 
these  are  found,  there  fixedness  is  sure  to  be.  Here  again  for 
assurance  I  must  apply  myself  to  experience  ;  ■  as  far  as  that 
reaches  I  may  have  certain  knowledge,  but  no  farther. 

§   10.    TIIISMAV  PROCURE  US  CONVENIENCE,  NOT  SCIENCE. 

I  deny  not  but  a  man,  accustomed  to  rational  and  regular 
experiments,  shall  be  able  to  see  farther  into  the  nature  of  bodies, 
and  guess  fighter  at  their  yet  unknown  properties,  than  one  that 
is  a  stranger  to  them:  but  yet,  as  I  have  said,  this  is  but  judg- 
ment and  opinion,  not  knowledge  and  certainty.  This  way  of 
getting  and  improving  our  knowledge  in  substances  only  by  ex- 
perience and  history,  which  is  all  that  the  weakness  of  our  facul- 
ties in  this  state  of  mediocrity  we  are  in  in  this  world  can  attain 
to,  makes  me  suspect  that  natural  philosophy  is  not  capable  of 
being  made  a  science.  We  are  able,  I  imagine,  to  reach  very 
little  general  knowledge  concerning  the  species  of  bodies,  and 
their  several  pioperties.  Experiments  and  historical  observa- 
tions we  may  have,  from  which  we  may  draw  advantages  of 
ease  and  health,  and  thereby  increase  our  stock  of  conveniencies 
.for  this  life;  but  beyond  this,  I  fear,  our  talents  reach  not,  nor 
are  our  faculties,  as  I  guess,  able  to  advance. 

>*S  1  J.  VVE  ARE  FITTED  FOR  MORAL  KNOWLEDGE  AND  NATURAL  IMPROVE  ■ 

MIDI'S. 

J'Yom  whence  it  'is  obviou*  to  conclude  that  since  our  faculties 


(  'II.  XII.  J  JMl'ROYi.  >IE>  I  01'  OUR  KNOWLEDGE..  175 

are  not  fitted  to  penetrate  into  the  internal  fabric  and  real  essen- 
ces of  bodies;  but  yet  plainly  discover  to  us  the  being  of  a 
God,  and  the  knowledge  of  ourselves,  enough  to  lead  us  into  a 
lull  and  clear  discovery  of  our  duty  and  great  concernment  :  it 
will  become  us,  as  rational  creatures,  to  employ  those  faculties 
we  have  about  what  they  are  adapted  to,  and  follow  the  direc- 
tion of  nature,  where  it  seems  to  point  us  out  the  way.  For  it 
is  rational  to  conclude  that  our  employment  lies  in  those  inqui- 
ries, and  in  that  sort  of  knowledge,  which  is  most  suited  to  our 
natural  capacities,  and  carries  in  it  our  greatest  interest,  i.  ft. 
the  condition  of  our  eternal  estate.  Hence  I  think  I  may 
conclude,  that  morality  is  the  proper  science  and  business  of 
mankind  in  general ;  (who  are  both  concerned  and  fitted  to 
search  out  their  summum  bonum,)  as  several  arts,  conversant 
about  several  parts  of  nature,  are  the  lot  and  private  talent  of 
particular  men,  for  the  common  use  of  human  life,  and  their  own 
particular  subsistence  in  this  world.  Of  what  consequence  the 
discovery  of  one  natural  bod}-,  and  its  properties,  may  be  to 
human  life,  the  whole  great  continent  of  America  is  a  convinc- 
ing instance ;  whose  ignorance  in  useful  arts,  and  want  or  the 
greatest  part  of  the  conveniencies  of  life,  in  a  country  that 
abounded  with  all  sorts  of  natural  plenty,  I  think  may  be  attri- 
buted to  their  ignorance  of  what  was  to  be  found  in  a  very 
ordinary  despicable  stone,  I  mean  the  mineral  of  iron.  And 
whatever  we  think  of  our  parts  or  improvements  in  this  part  of 
the  world,  where  knowledge  and  plenty  seem  to  vie  with  each 
other  ;  yet  to  any  one  that  will  seriously  reflect  on  it,  I  suppose 
it  will  appear  past  doubt,  that  were  the  use  of  iron  lost  among 
us,  we  should  in  a  few  ages  be  unavoidably  reduced  to  the 
wants  and  ignorance  of  the  ancient  savage  Americans,  whose 
natural  endowments  and  provisions  come  no  way  short  of  those 
of  the  most  flourishing  and  polite  nations.  So  that  he  who 
iirst  made  known  the  use  of  that  one  contemptible  mineral  may 
be  truly  styled  the  father  of  arts,  and  author  of  plenty. 

§   12.    BUT  MUST  BEWARE  OF  HYPOTHESIS  AND  WRONG   PRINCIPLES. 

I  would  not  therefore  be  thought  to  disesteem  or  dissuade  the. 
study  of  nature.  I  readily  agree  the  contemplation  of  his  works 
gives  us  occasion  to  admire,  revere,  and  glorify  their  Author  : 
and,  il  rightly  directed,  may  be  of  greater  benefit  to  mankind 
than  the  monuments  of  exemplary  charity,  that  have  at  so  great 
charge  been  raised  by  the  founders  of  hospitals  and  almshouses. 
Me  that  first  invented  printing,  discovered  the  use  of  the  compass 
or  made  public  the  virtue  and  right  use  of  kin  kina,  did  more 
for  the  propagation  of  knowledge,  for  the  supply  and  increase  of 
useful  commodities,  and  saved  more  from  the  grave,  than  those 
who  built  colleges,  workhouses,  and  hospitals.  All  that  I  would 
say  is,  that  we  should  not  be  too  forwardly  possessed  with  the 
opinion  or  expectation  of  knowledge,  where  it  is  not  to  be  hwV 


17(j  LMI'ROVEMEiNT  OF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE.  [BOOK  IV, 

or  by  ways  that  will  not  attain  to  it  ;  that  we  should  not  take 
doubtful  systems  for  complete  sciences,  nor  unintelligible  notions 
for  scientifical  demonstrations.  In  the  knowledge  of  bodies, 
we  must  be  content  to  glean  what  we  can  from  particular  expe- 
riments ;  since  we  cannot,  from  a  discovery  of  their  real  essen- 
ces, grasp  at  a  time  whole  sheaves,  and  in  bundles  comprehend 
the  nature  and  properties  of  whole  species  together.  Where 
our  inquiry  is  concerning  coexistence,  or  repugnancy  to  coexist, 
which  by  contemplation  of  our  ideas  we  cannot  discover ;  there 
experience,  observation,  and  natural  history  must  give  us  by  our 
senses,  and  by  retail,  an  insight  into  corporeal  substances.  The 
knowledge  of  bodies  we  must  get  by  our  senses,  warily  em- 
ployed in  taking  notice  of  their  qualities  and  operations  on  one 
another  :  and  what  we  hope  to  know  of  separate  spirits  in  this 
world  we  must,  I  think,  expect  only  from  revelation.  He  that 
^hall  consider  how  little  general  maxims,  precarious  principles, 
and  hypotheses  laid  down  at  pleasure,  have  promoted  true 
knowledge,  or  helped  to  satisfy  the  inquiries  of  rational  men 
after  real  improvements — how  little,  I  say,  the  setting  out  at  the 
end  has,  for  many  ages  together,  advanced  men's  progress 
towrards  the  knowledge  of  natural  philosophy, — will  think  we 
have  reason  to  thank  those,  who  in  this  latter  age  have  taken 
another  course,  and  have  trode  out  to  us,  though  not  an  easier 
■vvay  to  learned  ignorance,  yet  a  surer  way  to  profitable  know- 
ledge. 

§   13.    THE  TRUE  USE  OF  HYPOTHESES. 

Not  that  we  may  not,  to  explain  any  phenomena  of  nature, 
m&ke  use  of  any  probable  hypothesis  whatsoever :  hypotheses, 
if  they  are  well  made,  are  at  least  great  helps  to  the  memory, 
and  often  direct  us  to  new  discoveries.  But  my  meaning  is,, 
that  we  should  not  take  up  any  one  too  hastily  (which  the  mind 
that  would  always  penetrate  into  the  causes  of  things,  and  have 
principles  to  rest  on,  is  very  apt  to  do)  till  we  have  very  well 
examined  particulars,  and  made  several  experiments  in  that  thing 
which  wre  would  explain  by  our  hypothesis,  and  see  whether  it 
will  agree  to  them  all ;  whether  our  principles  will  carry  us  quite 
through,  and  not  be  as  inconsistent  with  one  phenomenon  of 
nature  as  they  seem  to  accommodate  and  explain  another.  And 
at  least  that  we  take  care,  that  the  name  of  principles  deceive 
us  not,  nor  impose  on  us,  by  making  us  receive  that  for  an 
unquestionable  truth  which  is  really  at  best  but  a  very  doubtful 
conjecture,  such  as  are  most  (I  had  almost  said  all)  of  the 
hypotheses  in  natural  philosophy. 

§  14.  CLEAR  AND  DISTINCT  IDEAS  WITH  SETTLED  NAMES,  AND  THE 
FINDING  OF  THOSE  WHICH  SHOW  THEIR  AGKEEMENT  OR  DISAGREEMENT- 
'S THE  WAYS  TO  ENLARGE  OUR  KNOWLEDGE. 

But  whether  natural  philosophy  be  capable  of  certainty  or  no, 


CH. XII.]  IMPROVEMENT  OF  OUR  KNOWLEDGE.  177 

the  ways  to  enlarge  our  knowledge,  as  far  as  we  are  capable, 
seem  to  me,  in  short,  to  be  these  two  : 

First,  the  first  is  to  get  and  settle  in  our  minds  determined 
ideas  of  those  things,  whereof  we  have  general  or  specific  names; 
at  least,  of  so  many  of  them  as  we  would  consider  and  improve 
our  knowledge  in,  or  reason  about.  And  if  they  be  specific 
ideas  of  substances,  we  should  endeavour  also  to  make  them 
as  complete  as  we  can,  whereby  I  mean  that  we  should  put 
together  as  many  simple  ideas  as,  being  constantly  observed  to 
coexist,  may  perfectly  determine  the  species :  and  each  of  those 
simple  ideas,  which  are  the  ingredients  of  our  complex  ones, 
should  be  clear  and  distinct  in  our  minds.  For  it  being  evident 
that  our  knowledge  cannot  exceed  our  ideas ;  as  far  as  they  are 
either  imperfect,  confused,  or  obscure,  we  cannot  expect  to  have 
certain;  perfect,  or  clear  knowledge. 

Secondly,  the  other  is  the  art  of  finding  out  those  intermediate 
ideas,  which  may  show  us  the  agreement  or  repugnancy  of  other 
ideas,  which  cannot  be  immediately  compared. 

§    15.    MATHEMATICS  AN  INSTANCE  OF  IT. 

That  these  two  (and  not  the  relying  on  these  maxims,  and 
drawing  consequences  from  some  general  propositions)  are  the 
right  methods  of  improving  our  knowledge  in  the  ideas  of  other 
modes  besides  those  of  quantity,  the  consideration  of  mathema- 
tical knowledge  will  easily  inform  us.  Where  first  we  shall  find 
that  he,  that  has  not  a  perfect  knowledge  and  clear  idea  of  those 
angles  or  figures  of  which  he  desires  to  know  any  thing,  is 
utterly  incapable  of  any  knowledge  about  them.  Suppose  but 
a  man  not  to  have  a  perfect  exact  idea  of  a  right  angle,  a  scale- 
num,  or  trapezium ;  and  there  is  nothing  more  certain  than  that 
he  will  in  vain  seek  any  demonstration  about  them.  Farther,  it 
is  evident,  that  it  was  not  the  influence  of  those  maxims,  which 
are  taken  from  principles  in  mathematics,  that  have  led  the  mas- 
ters of  that  science  into  those  wonderful  discoveries  they  have 
made.  Let  a  man  of  good  parts  know  all  the  maxims  generally 
made  use  of  in  mathematics  ever  so  perfectly,  and  contemplate 
their  extent  and  consequences  as  much  as  he  pleases,  he  will, 
by  their  assistance,  1  suppose,  scarce  ever  come  to  know  that 
the  square  of  the  hypothenuse  in  aright-angled  triangle  is  equal 
to  the  squares  of  the  two  other  sides.  The  knowledge  that  the 
whole  is  equal  to  all  its  parts,  and  if  you  take  equals  from  equals, 
the  remainder  will  be  equal,  &c.  helped  him  not,  I  presume,  to 
this  demonstration:  and  a  man  may,  I  think,  pore  long  enough 
on  those  axioms,  without  ever  seeing  one  jot  the  more  of  mathe- 
matical truths.  They  have  been  discovered  by  the  thoughts 
otherwise  applied:  the  mind  had  other  objects,  other  views 
before  it,  far  different  from  those  maxims,  when  it  first  got  the 
knowledge  of  such  truths  in  mathematics,  which  men  well 
enough  acquainted  with  those  received  axioms,  but  ignorant. of 


1*8  CONSIDERATIONS  CONCERNING  [BOOK  IV, 

their  method  who  first  made  these  demonstrations,  can  never 
.sufficiently  admire.  And  who  knows  what  methods,  to  enlarge 
our  knowledge  in  other  parts  of  science,  may  hereafter  be  in- 
vented, answering  that  of  algebra  in  mathematics,  which  so- 
readily  finds  out  the  ideas  of  quantities  to  measure  others  by ; 
whose  equality  or  proportion  we  could  otherwise  very  hardly  or 
perhaps  never  come  to  know  ? 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


SOME  FARTHER.  CONSIDERATIONS  CONCERNING  OUR 
KNOWLEDGE. 

§  1.    OUR  KNOWLEDGE   PARTLY  NECESSARY,  PARTLY  VOLUNTARY. 

Our  knowledge,  as  in  other  things,  so  in  this,  has  so  great  a 
conformity  with  our  sight,  that  it  is  neither  wholly  necessary, 
nor  wholly  voluntary.  If  our  knowledge  were  altogether  neces- 
sary, all  men's  knowledge  would  not  only  be  alike,  but  every 
man  would  know  all  that  is  knowable  :  and  if  it  were  wholly 
voluntary,  some  men  so  little  regard  or  value  it,  that  they  would 
have  extreme  little,  or  none  at  all.  Men  that  have  senses  can- 
not choose  but  receive  some  ideas  by  them  ;  and  if  they  have 
memory,  they  cannot  but  retain  some  of  them  ;  and  if  they  have 
any  distinguishing  faculty,  cannot  but  perceive  the  agreement  or 
disagreement  of  some  of  them  one  with  another  :  as  he  that 
has  eyes,  if  he  will  open  them  by  day,  cannot  but  see  some 
objects,  and  perceive  a  difference  in  them.  But  though  a  man, 
with  his  eyes  open  in  the  light,  cannot  but  see  ;  yet  there  be 
certain  objects,  which  he  may  choose  whether  he  will  turn  his 
eyes  to  ;  there  may  be  in  his  reach  a  book  containing  pictures 
and  discourses,  capable  to  delight  or  instruct  him,  which  yet  he 
may  never  have  the  will  to  open,  never  take  the  pains  to  look 
into. 

§  2.    THE  APPLICATION  VOLUNTARY  ;    EUT  WE  KNOW  AS  THINGS  ARE. 
NOT  AS  WE  PLEASE. 

There  is  also  another  thing  in  a  man's  power,  and  that  is, 
though  he  turns  his  eyes  sometimes  toward  an  object,  yet  he  may 
choose  whether  he  will  curiously  survey  it,  and  with  an  intent 
application  endeavour  to  observe  accurately  all  that  is 
visible  in  it.  But  yet  what  he  does  see,  he  cannot  see  other- 
wise than  he  does.  It  depends  not  on  his  will  to  see  that  black 
which  appears  yellow  ;  nor  to  persuade  himself,  that  what 
actually  scalds  him  feels  cold.  The  earth  will  not  appear 
painted  with  flowers,  nor  the  fields  covered  with  verdure,  when- 
ever he  has  a  mind  to  it  :  in  the  cold  winter  he  cannot  help 


CH.  XIII. j  OUR  KNOWLKDCK.  179 

seeing  it  white  and  hoary,  if  he  will  look  abroad.  Just  thus  is 
it  with  our  understanding  ;  all  that  is  voluntary  in  our  knowledge 
is  the  employing  or  withholding  any  of  our  faculties  from  this 
or  that  sort  of  objects,  and  a  more  or  less  accurate  survey  of 
them :  but,  they  being  employed,  our  will  hath  no  power  to 
determine  the  knowledge  of  the  mind  one  way  or  other ;  that 
is  done  only  by  the  objects  themselves,  as  far  as  they  are  clearly 
discovered.  And  therefore,  as  far  as  men's  senses  are  conver- 
sant about  external  objects,  the  mind  cannot  but  receive  those 
ideas  which  are  presented  by  them,  and  be  informed  of  the 
existence  of  things  without :  and  so  far  as  men's  thoughts  con- 
verse with  their  own  determined  ideas,  they  cannot  but,  in  some 
measure,  observe  the  agreement  or  disagreement  that  is  to  be 
found  among  some  of  them,  which  is  so  far  knowledge  :  and  if 
they  have  names  for  those  ideas  which  they  have  thus  consi- 
dered, they  must  needs  be  assured  of  the  truth  of  those  propo- 
sitions which  express  that  agreement  or  disagreement  they 
perceive  in  them,  and  be  undoubtedly  convinced  of  those  truths. 
For  what  a  man  sees,  he  cannot  but  see ;  and  what  he  per- 
ceives, he  cannot  but  know  that  he  perceives. 

§  3.    INSTANCE,  IN  NUMBERS. 

Thus  he  that  has  got  the  ideas  of  numbers,  and  hath  taken 
the  pains  to  compare  one,  two,  and  three  to  six,  cannot  choose 
but  know  that  they  are  equal :  he  that  hath  got  the  idea  of  a 
triangle,  and  found  the  ways  to  measure  its  angles,  and  their 
magnitudes,  is  certain  that  its  three  angles  are  equal  to  two  right 
ones  ;  and  can  as  little  doubt  of  that  as  of  this  truth,  "that  it 
is  impossible  for  the  same  thing  to  be,  and  not  to  be." 

IN  NATURAL  RELIGION. 

He  also  that  hath  the  idea  of  an  intelligent,  but  frail  and  weak 
being,  made  by,  and  depending  on,  another,  who  is  eternal,  omni- 
potent, perfectly  wise  and  good,  will  as  certainly  know  that 
man  is  to  honour,  fear,  and  obey  God,  as  that  the  sun  shines 
when  he  sees  it.  For  if  he  hath  but  the  ideas  of  two  such 
beings  in  his  mind,  and  will  turn  his  thoughts  that  way,  and 
consider  them,  he  will  as  certainly  rind  that  the  inferior,  finite, 
and  dependent,  is  under  an  obligation  to  obey  the  supreme  and 
infinite,  as  he  is  certain  to  find  that  three,  four,  and  seven  arc 
less  than  fifteen,  if  he  will  consider  and  compute  those  numbers  ; 
nor  can  he  be  surer  in  a  clear  morning  that  the  sun  is  risen,  if 
he  will  but  open  his  eyes,  and  turn  them  that  way.  But  yer. 
these  truths,  being  ever  so  certain,  ever  so  clear,  he  may  be 
ignorant  of  either,  or  all  of  them,  who  will  never  take  the  pains 
to  employ  his  faculties,  as  he  should,  to  inform  himself  about 
them 


ISO 
CHAPTER  XIV. 

OF  JUDGMENT. 

&  I.    OLR  KNOWLEDGE  BEING    SHORT,  WE  WANT  SOMETHING   ELSE. 

The  understanding  faculties  being  given  to  man,  not  barely 
for  speculation,  but  also  for  the  conduct  of  his  life,  man  would 
be  at  a  great  loss  if  he  had  nothing  to  direct  him  but  what  has 
the  certainty  of  true  knowledge.  For  that  being  very  short  and 
scanty,  as  we  have  seen,  he  would  be  often  utterly  in  the  dark, 
and,  in  most  of  the  actions  of  his  life,  perfectly  at  a  stand,  had 
he  nothing  to  guide  him  in  the  absence  of  clear  and  certain 
knowledge.  He  that  will  not  eat  till  he  has  demonstration  that 
it  will  nourish  him, — he  that  will  not  stir  till  he  infallibly  knows 
the  business  he  goes  about  will  succeed, — will  have  little  else 
to  do  but  to  sit  still  and  perish. 

§  2.    WHAT  USE  TO  BE    MADE  OF   THIS  TWILIGHT    STATE. 

Therefore  as  God  has  set  some  things  in  broad  day-light ;  as 
he  has  given  us  some  certain  knowledge,  though  limited  to  a 
few  things  in  comparison,  probably,  as  a  taste  of  what  intellec- 
tual creatures  are  capable  of,  to  excite  in  us  a  desire  and  endea- 
vour after  a  better  state  ;  so  in  the  greatest  part  of  our  concern- 
ments he  has  afforded  us  only  the  twilight,  as  I  may  so  say,  of 
probability  ;  suitable,  I  presume,  to  that  state  of  mediocrity  and 
probationership  he  has  been  pleased  to  place  us  in  here  ;  where- 
in, to  check  our  over-confidence  and  presumption,  we  might  by 
every  day's  experience  be  made  sensible  of  our  short-sighted- 
ness and  liableness  to  error  ;  the  sense  whereof  might  be  a  con- 
stant admonition  to  us,  to  spend  the  days  of  this  our  pilgrimage 
with  industry  and  care,  in  the  search  and  following  of  that  way, 
which  might  lead  us  to  a  state  of  greater  perfection  :  it  being 
highly  rational  to  think,  even  were  revelation  silent  in  the  case, 
that  as  men  employ  those  talents  God  has  given  them  here,  they 
shall  accordingly  receive  their  rewards  at  the  close  of  the  day, 
when  their  sun  shall  set,  and  night  shall  put  an  end  to  their 
labours. 

§  3.    JUDGMENT  SUPPLIES  THE  WANT  OF   KNOWLEDGE. 

The  faculty  which  God  has  given  man  to  supply  the  want  of 
clear  and  certain  knowledge,  in  cases  where  that  cannot  be  had, 
is  judgment ;  whereby  the  mind  takes  its  ideas  to  agree  or  dis- 
agree, or,  which  is  the  same,  any  proposition  to  be  true  or 
false,  without  perceiving  a  demonstrative  evidence  in  the  proofs. 
The  mind  sometimes  exercises  this  judgment  out  of  necessity, 
where  demonstrative  proofs  and  certain  knowledge  are  not  to  be 
had  ;  and  sometimes  out  of  laziness,  unskilfulness,  or  haste,  even 


CH.    W  .  PROBABIUTf.  181 

where  demonstrative  and  certain  proofs  are  to  be  had.  Men 
often  .stay  not  warily  to  examine  the  agreement  or  disagreement 
of  two  ideas,  which  they  are  desirous  or  concerned  to  know; 
but;  either  incapable  of  such  attention  as  is  requisite  in  a  long 
train  of  gradations,  or  impatient  of  delay,  lightly  cast  their  eyes 
on,  or  wholly  pass  by,  the  proofs  ;  and  so,  without  making  out 
the  demonstration,  determine  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement, 
of  two  ideas  as  it  were  by  a  view  of  them  as  they  are  at  a  distance, 
and  take  it  to  be  the  one  or  the  other,  as  seems  most  likely  to 
them  upon  such  a  loose  survey.  This  faculty  of  the  mind,  when 
it  is  exercised  immediately  about  things,  is  called  judgment  ; 
when  about  truths  delivered  in  words,  is  most  commonly  called 
assent  or  dissent :  which  being  the  most  usual  way  wherein  the 
mind  has  occasion  to  employ  this  faculty,  I  shall  under  these 
terms  treat  of  it,  as  least  liable  in  our  language  to  equivocation. 

§  4.    JUDGMENT    IS    THE  PRESUMING  THINGS     TO  BE    SO,  WITHOUT   PER- 
CEIVING IT. 

Thus  the  mind  has  two  faculties,  conversant  about  truth  and 
falsehood. 

First,  knowledge,  whereby  it  certainly  perceives,  and  is  un- 
doubtedly satisfied  of,  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  ideas. 

Secondly,  judgment,  which  is  the  putting  ideas  together,  or 
separating  them  from  one  another  in  the  mind,  when  their  cer- 
tain agreement  or  disagreement  is  not  perceived,  but  presumed  to 
be  so;  which  is,  as  the  word  imports,  taken  to  be  so  before  it. 
certainly  appears.  And  if  it  so  unites,  or  separates  them,  as  in 
reality  things  are,  it  is  right  judgment. 


CHAPTER  \\ 

OF  PROBABILITY. 

;    1.  PROBABILITY    IS    lit!,   APPEAR ANCE  OF    AGREEMENT    jJfON  FALHBLI 

PROOFS. 

As  demonstration  is  the  showing  the  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment of  two  ideas,  by  the  intervention  of  one  or  more  proofs, 
which  have  aconstant,  immutable,  and  visible  connexion  one  with 
another  ;  so  probability  is  nothing  but  the  appearance  of  such  an 
agreement  or  disagreement,  by  the  intervention  of  proofs,  whose 
connexion  is  not  constant  and  immutable,  or  at  least  is  not  per- 
ceived to  be  so,  but  is  or  appears  lor  the  most  part  to  be  so,  and 
is  enough  to  induce  the  mind  to  judge  the  proposition  to  be  true 
pr  false,  rather  than  the  contrary.  For  example  :  in  the  de- 
monstration of  it  a  man  perceives  tin-  certain  immutable  connex- 
ion there  is  of  equality  between  the  three  angles  ofa  triangle,  and 

Voi,     li  \\ 


ib2  PROBABILITY.  [BOOK   H. 

those  intermediate  ones  which  arc  made  use  of  to  show  their 
equality  to  two  right  ones  ;  and  so  by  an  intuitive  knowledge  of 
the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  the  intermediate  ideas  in  each 
step  of  the  progress,  the  whole  series  is  continued  with  an  evi- 
dence which  clearly  shows  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of 
those  three  angles  in  equality  to  two  right  ones  :  and  thus  he  has 
certain  knowledge  that  it  is  so.  But  another  man,  who  never 
took  the  pains  to  observe  the  demonstration,  hearing  a  mathema- 
tician, a  man  of  credit,  affirm  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  to  be 
equal  to  two  right  ones,  assents  to  it,  i.  e.  receives  it  for  true.  In 
which  case  the  foundation  of  his  assent  is  the  probability  of  the 
thing,  the  proof  being  such  as  for  the  most  part  carries  truth 
with  it:  the  man  on  whose  testimony  he  receives  it  not  being 
wont  to  affirm  any  thing  contrary  to,  or  besides  his  knowledge, 
especially  in  matters  of  this  kind.  So  that  that  which  causes  his 
assent  to  this  proposition,  that  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  are 
equal  to  two  right  ones,  that  which  makes  him  take  these  ideas 
to  agree,  without  knowing  them  to  do  so,  is  the  wonted  veracity 
of  the  speaker  in  other  cases,  or  his  supposed  veracity  in  this. 

§  2.    IT  IS  TO  SUPPLY  THE  WANT  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 

Our  knowledge,  as  has  been  shown,  being  very  narrow,  and 
Ave  not  happy  enough  to  find  certain  truth  in  every  thing  which 
we  have  occasion  to  consider ;  most  of  the  propositions  we 
think,  reason,  discourse,  nay  act  upon,  are  such,  as  we  cannot 
have  undoubted  knowledge  of  their  truth  :  yet  some  of  them 
border  so  near  upon  certainty,  that  we  make  no  doubt  at  all  about 
them  ;  but  assent  to  them  as  firmly,  and  act,  according  to  that 
assent,  as  resolutely,  as  if  they  were  infallibly  demonstrated,  and 
that  our  knowledge  of  them  was  perfect  and  certain.  But 
there  being  degrees  herein  from  the  very  neighbourhood  of  cer- 
tainty and  demonstration,  quite  down  to  improbability  and  un- 
likeness,  even  to  the  confines  of  impossibility  ;  and  also  degrees 
of  assent  from  full  assurance  and  confidence,  quite  down  to 
conjecture,  doubt,  and  distrust :  I  shall  come  now,  (having,  as  I 
think,  found  out  the  bounds  of  human  knowledge  and  certainty) 
in  the  next  place,  to  consider  the  several  degrees  and  grounds  of 
probability,  and  assent  or  faith. 

0 

§  3.    BEING  THAT  WHICH  MAKES  US  PRESUME  THINGS  TO  BE  TRIL 
BF.FORE  WE  KNOW  THEM  TO  BE  SO. 

Probability  is  likeliness  to  be  true,  the  very  notation  of  the  Word 
signifying  such  a  proposition,  for  which  there  be  arguments  or 
proofs  to  make  it  pass  or  be  received  for  true.  The  entertain- 
ment the  mind  gives  to  this  sort  of  propositions  is  called  belief, 
assent,  or  opinion,  which  is  the  admitting  or  receiving  any  pro- 
position for  true,  upon  arguments  or  proofs  that  are  found  to 
persuade  us  to  receive  it  as  true,  without  certain  knowledge 


II.    XV.]  PROBABILITY.  I  80 

that  it  is  so.  And  herein  lies  the  difference  between  probabi- 
lity and  certainty,  faith  and  knowledge,  that  in  all  the  parts 
of  knowledge  there  is  intuition  ;  each  immediate  idea,  each 
step  has  its  visible  and  certain  connexion  ;  in  belief,  not  so. 
That  which  makes  me  believe  is  something  extraneous  to  tin- 
thing  I  believe  ;  something  not  evidently  joined  on  both  sides  to, 
and  so  not  manifestly  showing  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of 
those  ideas  that  are  under  consideration. 

§  4.  THE  GROUNDS  OF  PROBABILITY  ARE  TWO  :  CONKOKMJT Y  WITH 
OUR    OWN  EXPERIENCE,    OR    THE   TESTIMONY  ON  OTHERS'     EXPERIENCE. 

Probability,  then,  being  to  supply  the  defect  of  our  knowledge, 
and  to  guide  us  where  that  fails,  is  always  conversant  about  pro- 
positions, whereof  wre  have  no  certainty,  but  only  some  induce- 
ments to  receive  them  for  true.  The  grounds  of  it  are,  in  short, 
these  two  following  : 

First,  the  conformity  of  anything  with  our  own  knowledge, 
observation,  and  experience. 

Secondly,  the  testimony  of  others,  vouching  their  observation 
and  experience.  In  the  testimony  of  others  is  to  be  considered, 
1.  The  number.  2  The  integrity.  3.  The  skill  of  the  witnesses. 
4.  The  design  of  the  author,  where  it  is  a  testimony  out  of  a 
book  cited.  5.  The  consistency  of  the  parts  and  circumstances 
of  the  relation.     6.  Contrary  testimonies. 

"  ,">.     IV  THIS   ALL  THfe   ARf.UMEN ITS  pVO  AN  D  COll.  OUGHT  TO  BE  EXAMINED 
BEKORE  WE   COME  TO   A  JUDGMENT. 

Probability  wanting  that  intuitive  evidence,  which  infallibh 
determines  the  understanding,  and  produces  certain  knowledge, 
the  mind,  if  it  would  proceed  rationally,  ought  to  examine  all 
the  grounds  of  probability,  and  sec  how  they  make  more  or  less 
for  or  against  any  proposition,  before  it  assents  to,  or  dissents 
from  it ;  and  upon  a  due  balancing  the  whole,  reject  or  receive 
it  with  a  more  or  less  firm  assent,  proportionally  to  the  prepon- 
derance of  the  greater  grounds  of  probability  on  one  side  or  the 
other.  ♦  For  example  ; 

If  I  myself  see  a  man  walk  on  the  ice,  it  is  past  probability, 
it  is  knowledge  ;  but  if  another  tells  me  he  saw  a  man  in  Eng- 
land* in  the  midst  of  a  sharp  winter,  walk  upon  water  hardened 
uith  cold;  this  has  so  great  conformity  with  what  is  usually 
observed  to  happen,  that  I  am  disposed  by  the  nature  of  the 
thing  itself  to  assent  to  it,  unless  some  manifest  suspicion  attend 
the  relation  of  that  matter  of  facti  But  if  the  same  thing  be 
told  to  one  born  between  the  tropics,  who  never  saw  nor  heard 
••>!  any  such  thing  before,  there  the  whole  probability  relies  on 
testimony  :  and  as  the  relators  are  more  in  number,  anil  of  more 
credit,  and  have  no  interest  to  speak  contrary  to  the  truth;  so 
that  matter  of  fact  is  like  to  find  more  or  less  belief.  Though  to 
a  man,  whose  experience  has  been  always  quite  contrary,  and 


184  HEGREES  OF  ASSEN1  .  ^BOOKIV. 

vfcho  has  never  heard  of  any  thing  like  it,  the  most  untainted 
credit  of  a  witness  will  scarce  be  able  to  find  belief.  As  it 
happened  to  a  Dutch  ambassador,  who  entertaining  the  king  of 
Siam  with  the  particularities  of  Holland,  which  he  was  inquisi- 
tive after,  among  other  things  told  him,  that  the  water  in  his 
country  would  sometimes,  in  cold  weather,  be  so  hard,  that  men 
walked  upon  it,  and  that  it  would  bear  an  elephant  if  he  were 
there.  To  which  the  king  replied,  "  Hitherto  I  have  believed 
the  strange  things  you  have  told  me,  because  I  looked  upon  you 
as  a  sober  fair  man;  but  now  I  am  sure  you  lie." 

§  6.    THEY  BE  I IV  G  CAPABLE  OF  GREAT   VARIETY. 

Upon  these  grounds  depends  the  probability  of  any  proposi- 
tion :  and  as  the  conformity  of  our  knowledge,  as  the  certainty 
of  observations,  as  the  frequency  and  constancy  of  experience, 
and  the  number  aud  credibility  of  testimonies,  do  more  or  less 
agree  or  disagree  with  it,  so  is  any  proposition  in  itself  more  or 
jess  probable.  There  is  another,  I  confess,  which,  though  by  it- 
self it  be  no  true  ground  of  probability,  yet  is  often  made  use  of 
for  one,  by  wliieh  men  most  commonly  regulate  their  assent,  and 
upon  which  they  pin  their  faith  more  than  any  thing  else,  and  that 
is  the  opinion  of  others  :  though  there  cannot  be  a  more  dangeiv 
pus  thing  to  rely  on,  nor  more  likely  to  mislead  one  ;  since  there 
is  much  more  falsehood  and  error  among  men  than  truth  and 
knowledge.  And  if  the  opinions  and  persuasions  of  others,  whom 
we  know  and  think  well  of,  be  a  ground  of  assent,  men  have 
reason  to  be  Heathens  in  Japan,  Mahometans  in  Turkey,  Papists 
in  Spain,  Protestants  in  England,  and  Lutherans  in  Sweden, 
But  of  this  wrong  ground  of  assent  I  shall  halve  occasion  tq 
gpeak  more  at  large  in  another  place. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

OF  THE  DEGREES  OF  ASfcjENT. 

1       Ot'R  ASSENT  OUGHT  TO  BE  REGIT  ATF.r>   BY   THE  pROUNDS  OF 
PROBABILITY. 

The  grounds  of  probability  we  have  laid  down  in  the  forego? 
ing  chapter  ;  as  they  are  the  foundations  on  which  our  assent  is 
built,  so  they  are  also  the  measure  v\  hereby  its  several  degree.-; 
are  or  ought  to  be  regulated  :  only  we  are  to  take  notice,  that 
whatever  grounds  of  probability  there  may  be,  they  yet  operate 
no  farther  on  the  mind,  which  searches  after  truth,  and  endea- 
vours to  judge  right,  than  they  appear  :  at  least  in  the  first  judg- 
ment or  search  that  the  mind  makes,  I  confess,  in  the  opinions; 
xnen  have,  and  firmly  stick  to,  in  the  Avorld,  their  assent  is  not 


.    li.    XVI. j  DEGREES  Qf  ASSK.M.  185 

always  from  an  actual  view  of  the  reasons  that  ar  iirst  prevailed 
aith  them  ;  it  bring  in  many  cases  almost  impossible,  and  in  most 
very  hard,  even  for  those  who  have  very  admirable  memories,  to 
retain  all  the  proofs  which,  upon  a  due  examination,  made  them 
embrace  that  side  of  the  question.  It  suffices  that  they  have  once 
with  care  and  fairness  sifted  the  matter  as  far  as  they  could,  and 
that  they  have  searched  into  all  the  particulars  that  they  could 
imagine  to  give  any  light  to  the  question,  and  with  the  best  of 
their  skill  cast  up  the  account  upon  the  whole  evidence  ;  and 
thus,  having  once  found  on  which  side  the  probability  appeared 
to  them,  after  as  full  and  exact  an  inquiry  as  they  can  make,  they 
lay  up  the  conclusion  in  their  memories  as  a  truth  they  have 
discovered  ;  and  for  the  future  they  remain  satisfied  with  the 
testimony  of  their  memories,  that  this  is  the  opinion  that,  by  the 
I  (roofs  they  have  once  seen  of  it,  deserves  such  a  degree  of 
their  assent  as  they  alford  it.     ' 

J.    THESE    CANNOT    ALWAYS    BE  ACTUALLY    IN    VIEW,    AND    THEN    W£ 
r    CONTENT  OURSELVES  WITH  THE  REMEMBRANCE  THAT  WE  ONCE 
SAW  GROUND  FOR  SUCH  A  DEGREE  OF    ASSENT, 

This  is  all  that,  the  greatest  part  of  men  are  capable  of  doin°-, 
In  regulating  their  opinions  and  judgments ;  unless  a  man  will 
exact  of  them  either,  to  retain  distinctly  in  their  memories  all  the 
proofs  concerning  any  probable  truth, and  that  too  in  the  same  order 
and  regular  deduction  of  consequences  in  which  they  have  for- 
merly placed  or  seen  them,  which  sometimes  is  enough  to  fill  a 
large  volume  on  one  single  question ;  or  else  they  must  require 
a  man,  for  every  opinion  that  he  embraces,  every  day  to  examine 
the  proofs — both  which  are  impossible.  It  is  unavoidable  there- 
fore that  the  memory  be  relied  on  in  the  case,  and  that  men  be 
persuaded  of  several  opinions,  whereof  the  proofs  are  not  ae- 
rnally  in  their  thoughts;  nay,  which  perhaps  they  are  not  able 
actually  to  recall.  Without  this  the  greatestpart  of  men  must  be 
zither  very  skeptics,  or  change  every  moment,  and  yield  them- 
selves up  to  whoever,  having  lately  studied  the  question,  offers 
them  arguments,  which,  for  want  of  memory,  they  are  not  able 
presently  to  answ  ( i\ 

3.   THE  ILL  CONSEQUENCE  OF  THIS,  IF  OCR  FORMER  JUDGJtEJKTS  WERE 
NOT  RIGHTLY  MADE. 

I  Cannot  hut  own,  that  men's  sticking  to  their  past  judgment, 
-iikI  adhering  firmly  to  conclusions  formerly  made,  is  often  the 
cause  of  great  obstinacy  in  error  and  mistake.  But  the  fault  is 
not  that  they  rely  on  their  memories  for  what  they  have  before 
well  judged,  but  because  they  judged  before  they  had  well  ex- 
amined. May  we  not  find  a  great  number  (not  to  say  the  great- 
est  part)  of  men  that  think  they  have  formed  right  judgments  of 
several  matters,  and  that  for  no  other  reason  but  because  they 
never  thought  otherwise ?  who  imagine  themselves  to  have  judged 


186  DEGREES  OF  ASSENT.  [bOORIV. 

t 

right  only  because  they  never  questioned,  never  examined  then- 
own  opinions  ?  Which  is  indeed  to  think  they  judged  right  be- 
cause they  never  judged  at  all :  and  yet  these  of  all  men  hold 
their  opinions  with  the  greatest  stiffness  ;  those  being  generally 
the  most  fierce  and  firm  in  their  tenets  who  have  least  examined 
them.  What  we  once  know,  we  are  certain  is  so  ;  and  we  may 
be  secure  that  there  are  no  latent  proofs  undiscovered,  which 
may  overturn  our  knowledge  or  bring  it  in  doubt.  But,  in  mat- 
ters of  probability,  it  is  not  in  every  case  we  can  be  sure  that 
we  have  all  the  particulars  before  us  that  any  way  concern  the 
question ;  and  that  there  is  no  evidence  behind,  and  yet  unseen, 
which  may  cast  the  probability  on  the  other  side,  and  outweigh 
all  that  at  present  seems  to  preponderate  with  us.  Who  almost 
is  there  that  hath  the  leisure,  patience,  and  means,  to  collect  to- 
gether all  the  proofs  concerning  most  of  the  opinions  he  has,  so 
as  safely  to  conclude  that  he  hath  a  clear  and  full  view,  and  that 
there  is  no  more  to  be  alleged  for  his  better  information  ?  And 
yet  we  are  forced  to  determine  ourselves  on  the  one  side  or  other. 
The  conduct  of  our  lives,  and  the  management  of  our  great 
concerns,  will  not  bear  delay :  for  those  depend,  for  the  most  part, 
on  the  determination  of  our  judgment  in  points  wherein  we  are 
not  capable  of  certain  and  demonstrative  knowledge,  and  wherein 
it  is  necessary  for  us  to  embrace  the  one  side  or  the  other. 

}  4.    THE  RIGHT  USE  OF  IT,  IS  MUTUAL  CHARITY  AND  FORBEARANCE. 

Since  therefore  it  is  unavoidable  to  the  greatest  part  of  men, 
if  not  all,  to  have  several  opinions  without  certain  and  indubita- 
ble proofs  of  their  truth, — and  it  carries  too  great  an  imputation 
of  ignorance,  lightness,  or  folly,  for  men  to  quit  and  renounce 
their  former  tenets  presently  upon  the  offer  of  an  argument  which 
they  cannot  immediately  answer,  and  show  the  insufficiency  of, 
5 — it  would  methinks  become  all  men  to  maintain  peace,  and  the 
common  offices  of  humanity  and  friendship,  in  the  diversity  ot 
opinions ;  since  we  cannot  reasonably  expect  that  any  one 
should  readily  and  obsequiously  quit  his  own  opinion,  and  em- 
brace ours  with  a  blind  resignation  to  an  authority  which  the 
understanding  of  man  acknowledges  not.  For  however  it  may 
often  mistake,  it  can  own  no  other  guide  but  reason,  nor  blindly 
submit  to  the  will  and  dictates  of  another.  If  he,  you  would 
bring  over  to  your  sentiments,  be  one  that  examines  before  he 
assents,  you  must  give  him  leave  at  his  leisure  to  go  over  the 
account  again,  and,  recalling  what  is  out  of  his  mind,  examine 
all  the  particulars,  to  see  on  which  side  the  advantage  lies : 
and  if  he  will  not  think  our  arguments  of  weight  enough  to 
engage  him  anew  in  so  much  pains,  it  is  but  what  we  often  do 
ourselves  in  the  like  case  ;  and  we  should  take  it  amiss  if  others 
should  prescribe  to  us  what  points  we  should  study.  And  if  he 
be  one  who  takes  his  opinions  upon  trust,  hoAV  can  we  imagine 
that  ho  should  renounce  those  tenets  whiclitime  and  custom  have 


<  II.  XVI. J  DEGREES   OF  ASSEA Y  181 

so  settled  in  his  mind,  that  he  thinks  them  sell-evident,  and  of  an 
unquestionable  certainty  ;  or  which  he  takes  to  be  impressions 
he  has  received  from  God  himself,  or  from  men  sent  by  him  ? 
How  can  we  expect,  I  say,  that  opinions  thus  settled  should  be 
given  up  to  the  arguments  or  authority  of  a  stranger  or  adversary ; 
especially  if  there  be  any  suspicion  of  interest  or  design,  as 
there  never  fails  to  be  where  men  find  themselves  ill  treated  ? 
We  should  do  well  to  commiserate  our  mutual  ignorance,  and 
endeavour  to  remove  it  in  all  the  gentle  and  fair  ways  of  infor- 
mation ;  and  not  instantly  treat  others  ill,  as  obstinate  and  per- 
verse, because  they  will  not  renounce  their  own,  and  receive 
our  opinions,  or  at  least  those  we  would  force  upon  them,  when 
it  is  more  than  probable  that  we  are  no  less  obstinate  in  not  em- 
bracing some  of  theirs.  For  where  is  the  man  that  has  incon- 
testable evidence  of  the  truth  of  all  that  he  holds,  or  of  the 
falsehood  of  all  he  condemns  ;  or  can  say,  that  he  has  examined 
to  the  bottom  all  his  own  or  other  men's  opinions  ?  The  necessity 
of  believing,  without  knowledge,  nay,  often  upon  very  slight 
grounds,  in  this  fleeting  state  of  action  and  blindness  we  are  in, 
should  make  us  more  busy  and  careful  to  inform  ourselves  than 
constrain  others.  At  least  those,  who  have  not  thoroughly 
examined  to  the  bottom  all  their  own  tenets,  must  confess  they 
are  unfit  to  prescribe  to  others  ;  and  are  unreasonable  in  impo- 
sing that  as  truth  on  other  men's  belief  which  they  themselves 
have  not  searched  into,  nor  weighed  the  arguments  of  probability 
on  which  they  should  receive  or  reject  it.  Those  who  have 
fairly  and  truly  examined,  and  are  thereby  got  past  doubt  in  all 
the  doctrines  they  profess  and  govern  themselves  by,  would  have 
a  juster  pretence  to  require  others  to  follow  them  :  but  these  are 
so  few  in  number,  and  find  so  little  reason  to  be  magisterial  in 
their  opinions,  that  nothing  insolent  and  imperious  is  to  be. 
expected  from  them  :  and  there  is  reason  to  think  that,  if  men 
were  better  instructed  themselves,  they  would  be  less  imposing 
on  others. 

$  5'.    PROBABILITY  IS  EITHER  OF  MATTER  OF  FACT  OR  SPECULATION. 

But  to  return  to  the  grounds  of  assent,  and  the  several  degrees 
of  it ;  we  are  to  take  notice,  that  the  propositions  we  receive 
upon  inducements  of  probability  are  of  two  sorts ;  either  con- 
cerning some  particular  existence,  or,  as  it  \$  usually  termed, 
matter  of  fact,  which  falling  under  observation,  is  capable  of 
human  testimony ;  or  else  concerning  things  which,  being  beyond 
the  discovery  of  our  senses,  are  not  capable  of  any  such  testi- 
mony. 

;   G.    THE  CONCURRENT  EXPERIENCE  OF  ALL  OTHER  MEN  WITH   OURS  PRO- 
DUCES ASSURANCE  APPROACHING  To  KNOWLEDGE. 

Concerning  the  first  of  these,  viz.  particular  matter  of  fact. 
First,  where  any  particular  thing,  consonant  to  the  constant 


188  DEGREES  OF  ASSENT.  [BOOK  IV. 

observation  of  ourselves  and  others  in  the  like  case,  comes 
attested  by  the  concurrent  reports  of  all  that  mention  it,  we 
receive  it  as  easily,  and  build  as  firmly  upon  it,  as  if  it  were 
certain  knowledge  ;  and  we  reason  and  act  thereupon  with  a.-: 
little  doubt  as  if  it  were  perfect  demonstration.  Thus,  if  all 
Englishmen,  who  have  occasion  to  mention  it,  should  affirm  that 
it  froze  in  England  the  last  winter,  or  that  there  were  swallows 
seen  there  in  the  summer ;  I  think  a  man  could  almost  as  little 
doubt  of  it  as  that  seven  and  four  are  eleven.  The  first,  there- 
fore, and  highest  degree  of  probability  is,  when  the  general  con- 
sent of  all  men,  in  all  ages,  as  far  as  it  can  be  known,  concurs 
with  a  man's  constant  and  never-failing  experience  in  like  cases, 
to  confirm  the  truth  of  any  particular  matter  of  fact  attested  by 
fair  witnesses  :  such  are  all  the  stated  constitutions  and  proper- 
ties of  bodies,  and  the  regular  proceedings  of  causes  and  effects 
in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature.  This  we  call  an  argument 
from  the  nature  of  things  themselves.  For  what  our  own  and 
other  men's  constant  observation  has  found  always  to  be  after 
the  same  manner,  that  we  with  reason  conclude  to  be  the  effect 
of  steady  and  regular  causes,  though  they  come  not  within  the 
reach  of  our  knowledge.  Thus,  that  fire  warmed  a  man,  made 
lead  fluid,  and  changed  the  colour  or  consistency  in  wood  or 
charcoal ;  that  iron  sunk  in  water,  and  swam  in  quicksilver : 
these  and  the  like  propositions  about  particular  facts,  being 
agreeable  to  our  constant  experience,  as  often  as  we  have  to  do 
with  these  matters, — and  being  generally  spoke  of  (when  men- 
tioned by  others)  as  things  found  constantly  to  be  so,  and  there- 
fore not  so  much  as  controverted  by  any  body, — we  are  put  past 
doubt,  that  a  relation  affirming  any  such  thing  to  have  been,  or 
any  predication  that  it  will  happen  again  in  the  same  manner,  is 
very  true.  These  probabilities  rise  so  near  to  certainty,  that 
they  govern  our  thoughts  as  absolutely,  and  influence  all  ou* 
actions  as  fully,  as  the  most  evident  demonstration ;  and,  in  what 
concerns  us,  we  make  little  or  no  difference  between  them  and 
certain  knowledge.  Our  belief,  thus  grounded,  rises  to  assu- 
rance. 

C  7.    UNQUESTIONABLE  TESTIMONY  AND  EXPERIENCE  FOR  THE  M  >ST  PAH  J 
PRODUCE  CONFIDENCE. 

Secondly,  the  next  degree  of  probability  is,  when  I  find  by  my 
own  experience,  and  the  agreement  of  all  others  that  mention  it, 
a  thing  to  be,  for  the  most  part,  so  ;  and  that  the  particular 
instance  of  it  is  attested  by  many  and  undoubted  witnesses,  v.  g. 
history  giving  us  such  an  account  of  men  in  all  ages,  and  my 
own  experience,  as  far  as  I  had  an  opportunity  to  observe,  con- 
firming it,  that  most  men  prefer  their  private  advantage  to  the 
public  ;  if  all  historians  that  write  of  Tiberius  say  that  Tiberius 
Hid  so,  it  is  extremely  probable.     And  in  this  case  our  assent 


H.  xvi.  J  -  or  asslvi  .  189 

has  a  sufficient  foundation  to  raise  itself  to  a  degree  which  we 
may  call  confidence. 

§  8.  fair  testimony,  am)  THE  xati'Iu:  < > r  i  he  thin.,  indifferent, 

PRODUCE  ALSO  CONFIIiENT  BELIEF. 

Thirdly,  in  things  that  happen  indifferently,  as  that  a  bird  should 
fly  this  or  that  way ;  that  it  should  thunder  on  a  man's  right  or 
left  hand,  &c.  when  any  particular  matter  of  fact  is  vouched  by 
the  concurrent  testimony  of  unsuspected  witnesses,  there  our 
assent  is  also  unavoidable.  Thus,  that  there  is  such  a  city  in 
Italy  as  Rome  ;  that,  about  one  thousand  seven  hundred  years 
ago,  there  lived  in  it  a  man  called  Julius  Caesar  ;  that  he  was  ;i 
general,  and  that  he  wonabattle  against  another,  called  Pompey : 
this,  though  in  the  nature  of  the  thing  there  be  nothing  for  nor 
against  it,  yet  being  related  by  historians  of  credit,  and  contra- 
dicted by  no  one  writer,  a  man  cannot  avoid  believing  it,  and  can 
as  little  doubt  of  it  as  he  does  of  the  being  and  actions  of  his 
own  acquaintance,  whereof  he  himself  is  a  witness. 

§  9.    EXPERIENCES  AND  TESTIMONIES  CLASHING  INFINITELY  VARV  THE 
DEGREES  OF  PROBABILITY. 

Thus  far  the  matter  goes  easy  enough.  Probability  upon, 
such  grounds  carries  so  much  evidence  with  it,  that  it  naturally 
determines  the  judgment,  and  leaves  us  as  little  liberty  to  believe- 
or  disbelieve,  as  a  demonstration  does  whether  we  will  know  or 
be  ignorant.  The  difficulty  is,  when  testimonies  contradict  com- 
mon experience,  and  the  reports  of  history  and  witnesses  clash, 
with  the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  or  with  one  another ;  theres 
it  is  where  diligence,  attention,  and  exactness  are  required,  to 
form  a  right  judgment,  and  to  proportion  the  assent  to  the  differ- 
ent evidence  and  probability  of  the  thing  ;  which  rises  and  falls 
according  as  those  two  foundations  of  credibility,  viz.  common 
observation  in  like  cases,  and  particular  testimonies  in  that  par- 
ticular instance,  favour  or  contradict  it.  These  are  liable  to  so 
great  variety  of  contrary  observations,  circumstances,  reports, 
different  qualifications,  tempers,  designs,  oversights,  &c.  of  the. 
reporters,  that  it  is  impossible  to  reduce  to  precise  rules  the 
various  degrees  wherein  men  give  their  assent.  This  only  may 
be  said  in  general,  that  as  the  arguments  and  proofs  pro  and  con., 
upon  due  examination,  nicely  weighing  every  particular  circum- 
stance, shall  to  any  one  appear,  upon  the  whole  matter,  in  a 
greater  or  less  degree  to  preponderate  on  either  side  ;  so  -they 
are  fitted  to  produce  in  the  mind  such  different  entertainment  as 
we  call  belief,  conjecture,  guess,  doubt,  wavering,  distrust,  dis- 
belief, ifec. 

)  tO.   Til  Mil  riONAL   1  1.STIMONIES,  THE  FARTHER  REMOVED,  THE  LE:  S 
I'HEIR  PROOF. 

This  is  what  concerns  assent  in  matters  wherein  testimony  is 
made  use  of:  concerning  which,  I  think,  it  mav  not  be  amiss  to 
Vol.  II.  25 


190  BEGRLES   OF  ASS  LIST.  {  BOOK  &» 

take  notice  oi'  a  rule  observed  in  the  law  of  England  ;  which  is, 
that  though  the  attested  copy  of  a  record  be  good  proof,  yet  the 
copy  of  a  copy,  ever  so  well  attested,  and  by  ever  so  credible 
witnesses,  will  not  be  admitted  as  a  proof  in  judicature.  This 
is  so  generally  approved  as  reasonable,  and  suited  to  the  wisdom 
and  caution  to  be  used  in  our  inquiry  after  material  truths,  that  1 
never  yet  heard  of  any  one  that  blamed  it.  This  practice,  if  it 
be  allowable  in  the  decisions  of  right  and  wrong,  carries  this 
observation  along  with  it,  viz.  that  any  testimony,  the  farther  oft" 
it  is  from  the  original  truth,  the  less  force  and  proof  it  has. 
The  being  and  existence  of  the  thing  itself  is  what  I  callthc 
original  truth.  A  credible  man  vouching  his  knowledge  of  it  is 
a  good  proof:  but  if  another  equally  credible  do  witness  it  from 
his  report,  the  testimony  is  weaker  ;  and  a  third  that  attests  the 
hearsay  of  an  hearsay,  is  yet  less  considerable.  So  that,  in 
traditional  truths,  each  remove  weakens  the  force  of  the  proof: 
and  the  more  hands  the  tradition  has  successively  passed  through, 
the  less  strength  and  evidence  does  it  receive  from  them.  This 
I  »thought  necessary  to  be  taken  notice  of,  because  I  find  among 
some  men  the  quite  contrary  commonly  practised,  who  look  on 
opinions  to  gain  force  by  growing  older  ;  and  what  a  thousand 
years  since  would  not,  to  a  rational  man,  contemporary  with  the 
first  voucher,  have  appeared  at  all  probable,  is  now  urged  as 
certain  beyond  all  question,  only  because  several  have  since, 
from  him,  said  it  one  after  another.  Upon  this  ground,  propo- 
sitions, evidently  false  or  doubtful  enough  in  their  first  beginning, 
come,  by  an  inverted  rule  of  probability,  to  pass  for  authentic 
truths  ;  and  those  which  found  or  deserved  little  credit  from  the 
jnouths  of  their  first  authors,  are  thought  to  grow  venerable  by 
age,  and  are  urged  as  undeniable. 

5  11.    YET  HISTORY  IS  OK  CHEAT  USE. 

1  would  not  be  thought  here  to  lessen  the  credit  and  use  of 
history ;  it  is  all  the  light  we  have  in  many  cases,  and  we  receive 
from  it  a  great  part  of  the  useful  truths  we  have,  with  a  con- 
vincing evidence.  I  think  nothing  more  valuable  than  the  records 
oi"  antiquity ;  I  wish  we  had  more  of  them,  and  more  uncorrupt- 
edl  But  this  truth  itself  forces  me  to  say,  that  no  probability 
cm  arise  higher  than  its  first  original.  What  has  no  other  evi- 
dence than  the  single  testimony  of  one  only  witness,  must 
stand  or  fall  by  his  only  testimony,  whether  good,  bad,  or  indif- 
ferent ;  and  though  cited  afterward  by  hundreds  of  others,  one 
after  another,  is  so  far  from  receiving  any  strength  thereby,  that 
it  is  only  the  weaker.  Passion,  interest,  inadvertency,  mistake 
of  his  meaning,  and  a  thousand  odd  reasons,  or  capricios,  men's 
minds  are  acted  by  (impossible  to  be  discovered)  may  make  one 
man  quote  another  man's  words  or  meaning  wrong.  He  that 
has  but  ever  so  little  examined  the  citations  of  writers  cannot 
doubt  how  little   credit  the   quotations  deserve,   where   the 


.,11.  XVI.]  DECREES  OF  ASSE.NT.  191 

originals  are  wanting-;  and  consequently  how  milch  less  quota- 
tions of  quotations  can  be  relied  on.  This  is  certain,  that  what 
in  one  age  was  affirmed  upon  slight  grounds,  can  never  alter  come 
to  be  more  valid  in  future  ages  by  being  often  repeated.  But  the 
farther  still  it  is  from  the  original,  the  less  valid^itis,  and  has 
always  less  force  in  the  mouth  or  writing  of  him  that  last  made 
use  of  it,  than  in  his  from  whom  he  received  it. 

$  12.    IN  THINGS  WHICH  SENSE  CANNOT  DISCOVER,  ANALOG  V    rs  THE  CHEAT 

rule  of  ruouA uii.n  \. 
The  probabilities  we  have  hitherto  mentioned  are  only  such 
as  concern  matter  of  fact,  and  such  things  as  are  capable  of 
observation  and  testimony.  There  remains  that  other  sort,  con- 
cerning which  men  entertain  opinions  with  variety  of  assent, 
though  the  things  be  such  that,  falling  not  under  the  reach  of  our 
senses,  they  are  not  capable  of  testimony.  Such  are,  1.  The 
existence,  nature,  and  operations  of  Unite  immaterial  beings  with- 
out us;  as  spirits,  angels,  devils,  &c.  or  the  existence  of  material 
beings,  which,  either  for  their  smallness  in  themselves,  or  re- 
moteness from  us,  our  senses  cannot  take  notice  of;  as  whether 
there  be  any  plants,  animals,  and  intelligent  inhabitants  in  the 
planets,  and  other  mansions  of  the  vast  universe.  2.  Concern- 
ing the  manner  of  operation  in  most  parts  of  the  works  of  na- 
ture: wherein  though  we  see  the  sensible  effects,  yet  their  causes 
are  unknown,  and  we  perceive  not  the  ways  and  manner  how 
they  are  produced.  We  see  animals  are  generated,  nourish- 
ed, and  move  ;  the  loadstone  draws  iron  ;  and  the  parts  of 
a  candle,  successively  melting,  turn  into  flame,  and  give  us 
both  light  and  heat.  These  and  the  like  effects  we  see  and  know; 
but  the  causes  that  operate,  and  the  manner  they  are  produced 
in,  we  can  only  guess,  and  probably  conjecture.  For  these  and 
the  like,  coming  not  within  the  scrutiny  of  human  senses,  can- 
not be  examined  by  them,  or  be  attested  by  any  body ;  and  there- 
fore can  appear  more  or  less  probable,  only  as  they  more  or  less 
agree  to  truths  that  arc  established  in  our  minds,  and  as  they 
hold  proportion  to  other  parts  of  our  knowledge  and  observation. 
Analogy  in  these  matters  is  the  only  help  we  have,  and  it  is  from 
that  alone  Ave  draw  all  our  grounds  of  probability.  Thus  ob- 
serving that  the  bare  rubbing  of  two  bodies  violently  one  upon 
another  produces  heat,  and  very  often  fire  itself,  we  have  reason 
to  think  that  what  we  call  heat  and  fire  consists  in  a  violent  agi- 
tation of  the  imperceptible  minute  parts  of  the  burning  matter : 
observing  likewise  that  the  different  refractions  of  pellucid  bodies 
produce  in  our  eyes  the  different  appearances  of  several  colours, 
and  also  that  the  different  ranging  and  laying  the  superficial  parts 
of  several  bodies,  as  of  velvet,  watered  silk,  &c.  does  the  like, 
we  think  it  probable  that  the  colour  and  shining  of  bodies  is  in 
them  nothing  but  the  different  arrangement  and  refraction  of 
their  minute  and  insensible  parts.     Thus  finding  in  all  parts  of 


Ij92  -DEGREES  OF  ASSENT.  |  BOOK   M  . 

the  creation,  that  fall  under  human  observation,  that  there  is  a 
gradual  connexion  of  one  Avith  another,  without  any  great  or 
discernible  gaps  between,  in  all  that  great  variety  of  things  wc 
see  in  the  world,  which  are  so  closely  linked  together,  that  in 
the  several  ranks  of  beings  it  is  not  easy  to  discover  the  bounds 
betwixt  them  :  we  have  reason  to  be  persuaded,  that  by  such 
gentle  steps  things  ascend  upwards  in  degrees  of  perfection. 
It  is  a  hard  matter  to  say  where  sensible  and  rational  begin,  and 
where  insensible  and  irrational  end :  and  who  is  there  quick- 
sighted  enough  to  determine  precisely  which  is  the  lowest  spe- 
cies of  living  things,  and  which  is  the  first  of  those  which  have 
no  life  ?  Things,  as  far  as  we  can  observe,  lessen  and  augment 
as  the  quantity  does  in  a  regular  cone  ;  where,  though  there  be 
a  manifest  odds  betwixt  the  bigness  of  the  diameter  at  a  remote 
distance,  yet  the  difference  between  the  upper  and  under,  where 
they  touch  one  another,  is  hardly  discernible.  The  difference  is 
exceeding  great  between  some  men  and  some  animals  ;  but  if 
we  will  compare  the  understanding  and  abilities  of  some  men 
and  some  brutes,  we  shall  find  so  little  difference,  that  it  will  be 
hard  to  say,  that  that  of  the  man  is  either  clearer  or  larger. 
Observing,  I  say,  such  gradual  and  gentle  descents  downwards 
in  those  parts  of  the  creation  that  are  beneath  man,  the  rule  of 
analogy  may  make  it  probable,  that  it  is  so  also  in  things  above 
us  and  our  observation ;  and  that  there  are  several  ranks  of  in- 
telligent beings,  excelling  us  in  several  degrees  of  perfection, 
ascending  upwards  towards  the  infinite  perfection  of  the  Creator, 
by  gentle  steps  and  differences,  that  are  every  one  at  no  great 
distance  from  the  next  to  it.  This  sort  of  probability,  which  is 
the  best  conduct  of  rational  experiments,  and  the  rise  of  hypo- 
thesis, has  also  its  use  and  influence  :  and  a  wary  reasoning" 
from  analogy  leads  us  often  into  the  discovery  of  truths  and 
useful  productions  which  would  otherwise  lie  concealed. 

1 13.  ONE  CASK  WHEiUE  CONTRARY  EXPERIENCE  I.ESS  ENS  NOT  THE  TESTIMONY. 

Though  the  common  experience  and  the  ordinary  course  of 
things  have  justly  a  mighty  influence  on  the  minds  of  men,  to 
make  them  give  or  refuse  credit  to  any  thing  proposed  to  their 
belief;  yet  there  is  one  case,  wherein  the  strangeness  of  the 
fact  lessens  not  the  assent  to  a  fair  testimony  given  of  it.  For 
where  such  supernatural  events  are  suitable  to  ends  aimed  at  by 
him,  who  has  the  power  to  change  the  course  of  nature,  there, 
under  such  circumstances,  they  may  be  the  fitter  to  procure 
belief,  by  how  much  the  more  they  are  beyond  or  contrary  to 
ordinary  observation.  This  is  the  proper  case  of  miracles, 
which  well  attested  do  not  only  find  credit  themselves,  but  give 
it  also  to  other  truths,  which  need  such  confirmation. 

b  14.    THE  BARE  TESTIMONY  OF  REVELATION  IS  THE  HIGHEST  CERTAINTY. 

Besides  those  we  have  hitherto  mentioned,  there  is  one  sort  of 


IT.    XYlf.]  REASON.  193 

propositions  that  challenge  the  highest  degree  of  our  assent  upon 
bare  testimony,  whether  the  thing  proposed  agree  or  disagree 
with  common  experience,  and  the  ordinary  course  of  things,  or 
no.  The  reason  whereof  is,  because  the  testimony  is  of  such 
an  one  as  cannot  deceive;  nor  be  deceived,  and  that  is  of  God 
himself.  This  carries  with  it  an  assurance  beyond  doubt,  evi- 
dence beyond  exception.  This  is  called  by  a  peculiar  name, 
revelation ;  and  our  assent  to  it,  faith  ;  which  as  absolutely  de- 
termines our  minds,  and  as  perfectly  excludes  all  wavering,  as 
our  knowledge  itself;  and  we  may  as  well  doubt  of  our  own 
being,  as  we  can  whether  any  revelation  from  God  be  true.  So 
that  faith  is  a  settled  and  sure  principle  of  assent  and  assurance, 
and  leaves  no  manner  of  room  for  doubt  or  hesitation.  Only 
we  must  be  sure  that  it  be  a  divine  revelation,  and  that  we  un- 
derstand it  right :  else  we  shall  expose  ourselves  to  all  the 
extravagancy  of  enthusiasm,  and  all  the  error  of  wrong  princi- 
ples, if  we  have  faith  and  assurance  in  what  is  not  divine  reve- 
lation. And  therefore  in  those  cases,  our  assent  can  be  ration- 
ally no  higher  than  the  evidence  of  its  being  a  revelation,  and 
that  this  is  the  meaning  of  the  expressions  it  is  delivered  in.  If 
the  evidence  of  its  being  a  revelation,  or  that  this  is  its  true 
-•use,  be  only  on  probable  proofs;  our  assent  can  reach  no 
higher  than  an  assurance  or  diffidence.)  arising  from  the  more  or 
Jess  appareht  probability  of  the  proofs.  But  of  faith,  and  the 
precedency  it  ought  to  have  before  other  arguments  of  persua* 
sion,  1  shall  speak  more  hereafter,  where  I  treat  of  it  as  it  is 
ordinarily  placed,  in  contradistinction  to  reason;  though  in  truth 
;t  be  nothing  else  but  an  assent  founded  on  the  highest  reason. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

OF  REASON. 


§    1.     VARUM';   SIGNIFICATION'S    OF    THE   \\  URD   RJ,.\ 

The  word  reason  in  the  English  language  has  different  signi- 
iieations  :  sometimes  it  is  taken  for  true  and  clear  principles ; 
sometimes  for  clear  and  fair  deductions  from  those  principles ; 
and -Sometimes  fartne  cause,  and  particularly  the  linal  cause. 
But  the  consideration  1  shall  have  of  it  here  is  in  a  signification 
different  from  all  these  ;  and  that  is,  as  it  stands  for  *  faculty  in 
man,  that  faculty  whereby  man  is  supposed  to  be  distinguished 
from  beasts,  and  wherein  it  is  evident  he  much  surpasses  them. 

§2.    WIir.KF.lN  REASONING  CONSISTS. 

If  general  knowledge,  as  has  been  shown,  consists  in  a  per- 
ception of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  our  own  ideas  ; 


194  itEASOX  [bookie, 

and  the  knowledge  of  the  existence  of  all  things  without  us 
(except  only  of  a  God,  whose  existence  every  man  may  certainly 
know  and  demonstrate  to  himself  from  his  own  existence)  be 
iiad  only  by  our  senses  :  what  room  is  there  for  the  exercise  of 
any  other  faculty,  but  outward  sense  and  inward  perception  I 
What  need  is  there  of  reason  ?  Very  much  ;  both  for  the  en- 
largement of  our  knowledge,  and  regulating  our  assent :  for  it 
hath  to  do  both  in  knowledge  and  opinion,  and  is  necessary  and. 
assisting  to  all  our  other  intellectual  faculties,  and  indeed  con- 
tains two  of  them,  viz.  sagacity  and  illation.  By  the  one,  it 
finds  out ;  and  by  the  other,  it  so  orders  the  intermediate  ideas., 
as  to  discover  what  connexion  there  is  in  each  link  of  the  chain, 
whereby  the  extremes  are  held  together  ;  and  thereby,  as  it 
were,  to  draw  into  view  the  truth  sought  for,  which  is  that  which 
we  call  illation  or  inference,  and  consists  in  nothing  but  the 
perception  of  the  connexion  there  is  between  the  ideas,  in  each 
step  of  the  deduction,  whereby  the  mind  comes  to  see  either  the 
certain  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  two  ideas,  as  in  de- 
monstration, in  which  it  arrives  at  knowledge  ;  or  their  probable 
connexion,  on  which  it  gives  or  withholds  its  assent,  as  in  opi- 
nion. Sense  and  intuition  reach  but  a  very  little  way.  The 
greatest  part  of  our  knowledge  depends  upon  deductions  and 
intermediate  ideas :  and  in  those  cases,  where  we  are  fain  to 
substitute  assent  instead  of  knowledge,  and  take  propositions  for 
true,  without  being  certain  they  are  so,  we  have  need  to  find  out, 
examine,  and  compare  the  grounds  of  their  probability.  In 
both  these  cases,  the  faculty  which  finds  out  the  means,  and 
rightly  applies  them  to  discover  certainty  in  the  one,  and  pro- 
bability in  the  other,  is  that  which  we  call  reason.  For  as  rea- 
son perceives  the  necessary  and  indubitable  connexion  of  all  the 
ideas  or  proofs  one  to  another,  in  each  step  of  any  demonstra- 
tion that  produces  knowledge  ;  so  it  likewise  perceives  the  pro- 
bable connexion  of  all  the  ideas  or  prodfs  one  to  another,  in 
every  step  of  a  discourse,  to  which  it  will  think  assent  due. 
This  is  the  lowest  degree  of  that  which  can  be  truly  called  rea- 
son. For  where  the  mind  does  not  perceive  this  probable  con- 
nexion, where  it  does  not  discern  whether  there  be  any  such 
connexion  or  no  ;  there  men's  opinions  are  not  the  product  of 
judgment,  or  the  consequence  of  reason,  but  the  effects  of  chance 
and  hazard,  of  a  mind  floating  at  all  adventures,  without  choice 
and  without  direction. 

§  3.    ITS  FOUR  PARTS. 

So  that  we  may  in  reason  consider  these  four  degrees  ;  the 
first  and  highest  is  the  discovering  and  finding  out  of  truths ; 
the  second,  the  regular  and  methodical  disposition  of  them,  and 
laying  them  in  a  clear  and  fit  order,  to  make  their  connexion  and 
force  be  plainly  and  easily  perceived  ;  the  third  is  the  perceiving 
their  connexion  ;  and  the  fourth,  a  making  a  right  conclusion 


OH.  XVII.  j  REASON.  195 

These  several  degrees  may  be  observed  in  any  mathematical 
demonstration  ;  it  being  one  thing  to  perceive  the  connexion  of 
each  part,  as  the  demonstration  is  made  by  another ;  another,  to 
perceive  the  dependence  of  the  conclusion  on  all  the  parts  ;  athird, 
to  make  out  a  demonstration  clearly  and  neatly  one's  self;  and 
something  different  from  all  these,  to  have  first  found  out  these 
intermediate  ideas  or  proofs  by  which  it  is  made. 

§  4.  SYLLOGISM  NOT  THE  GREAT  INSTRUMENT  OF  REASON. 

There  is  one  thing  more,  which  I  shall  desire  to  be  considered 
concerning  reason ;  and  that  is,  whether  syllogism,  as  is  gene- 
rally thought,  be  the  proper  instrument  of  it,  and  the  usefullest 
way  of  exercising  this  faculty.  The  causes  I  have  to  doubt  are 
these : 

First,  because  syllogism  serves  our  reason  but  in  one  only  of 
the  forementioned  parts  of  it ;  and  that  is,  to  show  the  connex- 
ion of  the  proofs  in  any  one  instance,  and  no  more  :  but  in  this 
it  is  of  no  great  use,  since  the  mind  can  conceive  such  connex- 
ion where  it  really  is,  as  easily,  nay,  perhaps  better,  without  it. 

If  we  will  observe  the  actings  of  our  own  minds,  we  shall 
find  that  we  reason  best  and  clearest  when  we  only  observe  the 
connexion  of  the  proof,  without  reducing  our  thoughts  to  any 
rule  of  syllogism.  And  therefore  we  may  take  notice,  that  there 
are  many  men  that  reason  exceeding  clear  and  rightly,  who 
know  not  how  to  make  a  syllogism.  He  that  will  look  into 
many  parts  of  Asia  and  America,  will  find  men  reason  there  per- 
haps as  acutely  as  himself,  who  yet  never  heard  of  a  syllogism, 
nor  can  reduce  any  one  argument  to  those  forms  :  and  I  believe 
scarce  any  one  makes  syllogisms  in  reasoning  within  himself. 
Indeed,  syllogism  is  made  use  of  on  occasion,  to  discover  a 
fallacy  hid  in  a  rhetorical  flourish,  or  cunningly  wrapt  up  in  a 
smooth  period  ;  and,  stripping  an  absurdity  of  the  cover  of  wit 
and  good  language,  show  it  in  its  naked  deformity.  But  the 
weakness  or  fallacy  of  such  a  loose  discourse  it  shows,  by  the 
artificial  form  it  is  put  into,  only  to  those  who  have  thoroughly 
studied  mode  and  figure,  and  have  so  examined  the  many  ways 
that  three  propositions  may  be  put  together,  as  to  know  which 
of  them  does  certainly  conclude  right,  and  which  not,  and  upon 
what  grounds  it  is  that  they  do  so.  All  who  have  so  far  consi- 
dered syllogism,  as  to  see  the  reason  why  in  three  propositions 
laid  together  in  one  form  the  conclusion  will  be  certainly  right, 
but  in  another,  not  certainly  so  ;  I  grant  are  certain  of  the  con- 
f  lusion  they  draw  from  the  premises  in  the  allowed  modes  and 
figures.  But  they  who  have  not  so  far  looked  into  those  forms, 
are  not  sure,  by  virtue  of  syllogism,  that  the  conclusion  certainly 
lollows  from  the  premises  ;  they  only  take  it  to  be  so  by  an  im- 
plicit faith  in  their  teachers,  and  a  confidence  in  those  forms  of 
argumentation  ;  but  this  is  still  but  believing,  not  being  certain. 
Now  if,  of  all  mankind,  those  who  can  make  syllogisms  are 


196  REASON.  [book  It 

extremely  few  in  comparison  of  those  who  cannot ;  and  if,  of 
those  few  who  have  been  taught  logic,  there  is  but  a  very  small 
number  who  do  any  more  than  believe  that  syllogisms  in  the 
allowed  modes  and  figures  do  conclude  right,  without  knowing 
certainly  that  they  do  so  ;  if  syllogisms  must  be  taken  for  the 
only  proper  instrument  of  reason  and  means  of  knowledge  ;  it 
will  follow,  that  before  Aristotle  there  was  not  one  man  that  did 
or  could  know  any  thing  by  reason  ;  and  that  since  the  inven- 
tion of  syllogisms  there  is  not  one  of  ten  thousand  that  doth. 

But  God  has  not  been  so  sparing  to  men  to  make  them  barely 
two-legged  creatures,  and  left  it  to  Aristotle  to  make  them  rational, 
i.  e.  those  few  of  them  that  he  could  get  so  to  examine  the  grounds 
of  syllogisms,  as  to  see,  that  in  above  threescore  ways,  that  three 
propositions  may  be  laid  together,  there  are  but  about  fourteen 
wherein  one  may  be  sure  that  the  conclusion  is  right ;  and  upon 
what  grounds  it  is,  that  in  these  few  the  conclusion  is  certain, 
and  in  the  other  not.     God  has  been  more  bountiful' to  mankind 
than  so.     He  has  given  them  a  mind  that  can  reason,  without 
being  instructed  in  methods  of  syllogizing  :  the  understanding  is 
not  taught  to  reason  by  these  rules ;  it  has  a  native  faculty  to 
perceive  the  coherence  or  incoherence  of  its  ideas,  and  can  range 
them  right,  without  any  such  perplexing  repetitions.     I  say  not 
this  any  way  to  lessen  Aristotle,  whom  I  look  on  as  one  of  the 
greatest  men  among  the  ancients  ;  whose  large  views,  acuteness, 
and  penetration  of  thought,  and  strength  of  judgment,  few  have 
equalled  :  and  who  in  this  very  invention  of  forms  of  argumen- 
tation, wherein  the  conclusion  may  be  shown  to  be  rightly  infer- 
red, did  great  service  against  those  who  were  not  ashamed  to 
deny  any  thing.     And  I  readily  own,  that  all  right  reasoning  may 
be  reduced  to  his  forms  of  syllogism.     But  yet  I  think,  without 
any  diminution  to  him,  I  may  truly  say,  that  they  are  not  the  only, 
nor  the  best  way  of  reasoning,  for  the  leading  of  those  into  truth 
who  are  willing  to  find  it,  and  desire  to  make  the  best  use  they 
may  of  their  reason,  for  the  attainment  of  knowledge.     And  he 
himself,  it  is  plain,  found  out  some  forms  to  be  conclusive,  and  not 
others  not,  not  by  the  forms  themselves,  but  by  the  original  way 
of  knowledge,  i.  e.  by  the  visible  agreement  of  ideas.       Tell  a 
country  gentlewoman    that  the  wind  is  southwest,    and   the 
weather  lowering,  and  like  to  rain,  and  she  will  easily  understand 
it  is  not  safe  for  her  to  go  abroad  thin  clad,  in  such  a  day,  after  a 
fever  :  she  clearly  sees  the  probable  connexion  of  all  these,  viz. 
southwest  wind,  and  clouds,  rain,  wetting,  taking  cold,  relapse, 
and  danger  of  death,  without  tying  them  together  in  those  arti- 
licial  and  cumbersome  fetters  of  several  syllogisms,  that  clog  and 
hinder  the  mind,   which   proceeds   from  one   part  to  another 
quicker  and  clearer  without  them ;  and  the  probability  which 
she  easily  perceives  in  things  thus  in  their  native  .state  would  be 
quite  lost,  if  this  argument  were  managed  learnedly,  and  pro- 
posed in  mode  and  furure.     For  it  very  often  confounds  the  con- 


..  H.  XWI-j  RJEAfcON.  I91 

yiexion  :  and,  I  think,  every  one  will  perceive  in  mathematical 
demonstrations,  that  the  knowledge  gained  thereby  comes  shortest 
and  clearest  without  syllogisms. 

Inference  is  looked  on  as  the  great  act  of  the  rational  faculty, 
and  so  it  is  when  it  is  rightly  made  ;  but  the  mind,  either  very 
desirous  to  enlarge  its  knowledge,  or  very  apt  to  favour  the  sen- 
timents it  has  once  imbibed,  is  very  forward  to  make  inferences, 
and  therefore  often  makes  too  much  haste,  before  it  perceives 
the  connexion  of  the  ideas  that  must  hold  the  extremes  together. 

To  infer  is  nothing  but,  by  virtue  of  one  proposition  laid  down 
as  true,  to  draw  in  an  another  as  true,  i.  e.  to  see  or  suppose. 
such  a  connexion  of  the  two  ideas  of  the  inferred  proposition, 
t>.  g.  Let  this  be  the  proposition  laid  down,  "  men  shall  be 
punished  in  another  world,"  and  from  thence  be  inferred  this 
other,  "then  men  can  determine  themselves."  The  question 
now  is  to  know  whether  the  mind  has  made  this  inference  right, 
or  no ;  if  it  has  made  it  by  finding  out  the  intermediate  ideas, 
and  taken  a  view  of  the  connexion  of  them,  placed  in  a  due 
order,  it  has  proceeded  rationally,  and  made  a  right  inference. 
If  it  has  done  it  without  such  a  view,  it  has  not  so  much  made 
an  inference  that  will  hold,  or  an  inference  of  right  reason,  as 
shown  a  willingness  to  have  it  be,  or  be  taken  for  such.  But  in 
neither  case  is  it  syllogism  that  discovered  those  ideas,  or  showed 
the  connexion  of  them,  for  they  must  be  both  found  out,  and  the 
connexion  every  where  perceived,  before  they  can  rationally  be 
made  use  of  in  syllogism  ;  unless  it  can  be  said,  that  any  idea, 
without  considering  what  connexion  it  hath  with  the  two  other, 
whose  agreement  should  be  shown  by  it,  will  do  well  enough  in 
a  syllogism,  and  maybe  taken  at  a  venture  for  the  medius  terminus, 
to  prove  any  conclusion.  But  this  nobody  will  say,  because  it 
is  by  virtue  of  the  perceived  agreement  of  the  intermediate  idea 
with  the  extremes,  that  the  extremes  are  concluded  to  agree ; 
and  therefore  each  intermediate  idea  must  be  such  as  in  the 
whole  chain  hath  a  visible  connexion  with  those  two  it  has  been 
placed  between,  or  else  thereby  the  conclusion  cannot  be  inferred 
or  drawn  in :  for  wherever  any  link  of  the  chain  is  loose,  and 
without  connexion,  there  the  whole  strength  of  it  is  lost,  and  it 
hath  no  force  to  infer  or  draw  in  any  thing.  In  the  instance 
above  mentioned,  what  is  it  shows  the  force  of  the  inference, 
and  consequently  the  reasonableness  of  it,  but  a  view  of  the 
connexion  of  all  the  intermediate  ideas  that  draw  in  the  conclu- 
sion or  proposition  inferred  ?  tr,  g.  men  shall  be  punished 

God  the  punisher just  punishment the   punished 

guilty could  have  done  otherwise freedom 

self-determination  :  by  which  chain  of  ideas  thus  visibly  linked 
together  in  train,  i.  e.  each  intermediate  idea  agreeing  on  each 
side  with  those  two  it  is  immediately  placed  between,  the  ideas 
of  men  and  self-determination  appear  to  be  connected,  i.  c.  this 
proposition,  men  can  determine  themselves,  is  drawn  in,  or  infer- 

Vol.  II,  2fi 


198  REASON-  [BOOK  IV. 

red  from  this,  that  they  shall  be  punished  in  the  other  world. 
For  here  the  mind  seeing  the  connexion  there  is  between  the 
idea  of  men's  punishment  in  the  other  world  and  the  idea  of 
God  punishing  ;  between  God  punishing  and  the  justice  of  the 
punishment ;  between  justice  of  the  punishment  and  guilt ; 
between  guilt  and  a  power  to  do  otherwise  ;  between  a  power 
to  do  otherwise  and  freedom  ;  and  between  freedom  and  self- 
determination  ;  sees  the  connexion  between  men  and  self- 
determination. 

Now  I  ask  whether  the  connexion  of  the  extremes  be  not 
more  clearly  seen  in  this  simple  and  natural  disposition,  than  in 
the  perplexed  repetitions  and  jumble  of  five  or  six  syllogisms  ? 
I  must  beg  pardon  for  calling  it  jumble,  till  somebody  shall  put 
these  ideas  into  so  many  syllogisms,  and  then  say,  that  they  are 
less  jumbled,  and  their  connexion  more  visible,  when  they  are 
transposed  and  repeated,  and  spun  out  to  a  greater  length  in 
artificial  forms,  than  in  that  short  and  natural  plain  order  they 
are  laid  down  in  here,  wherein  every  one  may  see  it ;  and  wherein 
they  must  be  seen  before  they  can  be  put  into  a  train  of  syllo- 
gisms. For  the  natural  order  of  the  connecting  ideas  must 
direct  the  order  of  the  syllogisms,  and  a  man  must  see  the  con- 
nexion of  each  intermediate  idea  with  those  that  it  connects, 
before  he  can  with  reason  make  use  of  it  in  a  syllogism.  And 
when  all  those  syllogisms  are  made,  neither  those  that  are,  nor 
those  that  are  not  logicians  will  see  the  force  of  the  argumenta- 
tion, i.  e.  the  connexion  of  the  extremes,  one  jot  the  better. 
[For  those  that  are  not  men  of  art,  not  knowing  the  true  forms 
of  syllogism,  nor  the  reasons  of  them,  cannot  know  whether 
they  are  made  in  right  and  conclusive  modes  and  figures  or  no, 
and  so  are  not  at  all  helped  by  the  forms  they  are  put  into  ; 
though  by  them  the  natural  order,  wherein  the  mind  could  judge 
of  their  respective  connexion,  being  disturbed,  renders  the  illa- 
tion much  more  uncertain  than  without  them.]  And  as  for  the 
logicians  themselves,  they  see  the  connexion  of  each  interme- 
diate idea  with  those  it  stands  between  (on  which  the  force  of 
the  inference  depends)  as  well  before  as  after  the  syllogism  is 
made,  or  else  they  do  not  see  it  at  all.  For  a  syllogism  neither 
shows  nor  strengthens  the  connexion  of  any  two  ideas  immedi- 
ately put  together,  but  only  by  the  connexion  seen  in  them  shows 
what  connexion  the  extremes  have  one  with  another.  But  what 
connexion  the  intermediate  has  with  either  of  the  extremes  in 
that  syllogism,  that  no  syllogism  does  or  can  show.  That  the 
mind  only  doth  or  can  perceive  as  they  stand  there  in  that  juxta- 
position oidy  by  its  own  view,  to  which  the  syllogistical  form  it 
happens  to  be  in  gives  no  help  or  light  at  all ;  it  only  shows  that. 
if  the  intermediate  idea  agrees  with  those  it  is  on  both  sides  im- 
mediately applied  to,  then  those  two  remote  ones,  or  as  they  are 
called  extnmjes,  do  certainly  agree,  and  therefore  the  immediate 
'•onnexion  of  each  idea  to  that  which  it  is  applied  to  on  each 


XVII.  J  REASON.  199 

side,  on  which  the  force  of  the  reasoning  depends,  is  as  well 
seen  before  as  after  the  syllogism  is  made,  or  else  he  that  makes 
the  syllogism  eoidd  never  s^e  if  at  all.  This,  as  has  been  already 
observed,  is  seen  only  by  the  eye,  or  the  perceptive  facility  ol 
the  mind,  taking  a  view  of  them  laid  together  in  a  juxta-position ; 
which  view  of  any  two  it  has  equally,  whenever  they  are  laid 
together  in  any  proposition,  whether  that* proposition  be  placed 
as  a  major,  or  a  minor  in  a  syllogism  or  no. 

Of  what  use  then  are  syllogisms  ?  1  answer,  their  chief  and 
main  use  is  in  the  schools,  where  men  are  allowed  without 
shame  to  deny  the  agreement  of  ideas  that  do  manifestly  agree  ; 
or  out  of  the  schools,  to  those  who  from  thence  have  learned 
Without  shame  to  deny  the  connexion  of  ideas,  which  even  to 
themselves  is  visible.  But  to  an  ingenuous  searcher  after  truth, 
who  has  no  other  aim  but  to  find  it,  there  is  no  need  of  any 
such  form  to  force  the  allowing  of  the  inference  :  the  truth 
and  reasonableness  of  it  is  better  seen  hi  ranging  of  the  ideas 
in  a  simple  and  plain  order:  and  hence  it  is,  that  men,  in 
their  own  inquiries  ^ter  truth,  never  use  syllogisms  to  convince 
themselves,  [or  in  teaching  others  to  instruct  willing  learners.  ] 
Because,  before  they  can  put  them  into  a  syllogism,  they  must 
see  the  connexion  that  is  between  the  intermediate  idea  and  the 
two  other  ideas  it  is  set  between  and  applied  to,  to  show  their 
agreement ;  and  when  they  see  that,  they  see  whether  the  infer- 
ence be  good  or  no,  and  so  syllogism  comes  too  late  to  settle  it. 
For  to  make  use  again  of  the  former  instance  ;  I  ask  whether 
the  mind,  considering  the  idea  of  justice,  placed  as  an  interme- 
diate idea  between  the  punishment  of  men  and  the  guilt  of  the 
punished,  (and,  till  it  does  so  consider  it,  the  mind  cannot  make 
use  of  it  as  a  medius  terminus)  does  not  as  plainly  see  the  force 
and  strength  of  the  inference  as  when  it  is  formed  into  a  syllo- 
gism ?  To  show  it  in  a  very  plain  and  easy  example  ;  let  animal 
be  the  intermediate  idea  or  medius  terminus  that  the  mind  makes 
use  of  to  show  the  connexion  of  homo  and  vivens  :  I  ask,  whe- 
ther the  mind  does  not  more  readily  and  plainly  see  that  connex- 
ion in  the  simple  and  proper  position  of  the  connecting  idea  in 
the  middle  ;  thus, 

Homo Animal Vivens, 

than  in  this  perplexed  one, 

Animal Vivens Homo Animal ; 

which  is  the  position  these  ideas  have  in  a  syllogism,  to  show 
the  connexion  between  homo  and  vivens  by  the  intervention  of 
animal. 

Indeed,  syllogism  is  thought  to  be  of  necessary  use,  even  to 
the  lovns  of  truth}  to  show  them  the  fallacies  that  are  often  con: 


200  REASON.  [BOOK  IV, 

cealed  in  florid,  witty,  or  involved  discourses.  But  that  this  is 
a  mistake  will  appear  if  we  consider,  that  the  reason  why  some- 
times men,  who  sincerely  aim  at  truth,  are  imposed  upon  by  such 
loose,  and  as  they  are  called,  rhetorical  discourses,  is,  that  their 
fancies  being  struck  with  some  lively  metaphorical  representa- 
tions, they  neglect  to  observe,  or  do  not  easily  perceive,  what  are 
the  true  ideas  upon  Avhich  the  inference  depends.  Now  to  show 
such  men  the  weakness  of  such  an  argumentation,  there  needs 
no  more  but  to  strip  it  of  the  superfluous  ideas,  which,  blended 
and  confounded  with  those  on  which  the  inference  depends,  seem 
to  show  a  connexion  where  there  is  none  ;  or  at  least  do  hinder 
the  discovery  of  the  want  of  it ;  and  then  to  lay  the  naked 
ideas,  on  which  the  force  of  the  argumentation  depends,  in  their 
due  order,  in  which  position  the  mind,  taking  a  view  of  them, 
sees  what  connexion  they  have,  and  so  is  able  to  judge  of  the 
inference  without  any  need  of  a  syllogism  at  all. 

I  grant  that  mode  and  figure  is  commonly  made  use  of  in  such 
cases,  as  if  the  detection  of  the  incoherence  of  such  loose  dis- 
courses were  wholly  owing  to  the  syllogia^ical  form  ;  and  so  I 
myself  formerly  thought,  till  upon  a  stricrer  examination  I  now 
find,  that  laying  the  intermediate  ideas  naked  in  their  due  order 
shows  the  incoherence  of  the  argumentation  better  than  syllo- 
gism ;  not  only  as  subjecting  each  link  of  the  chain  to  the  im- 
mediate view  of  the  mind  in  its  proper  place,  whereby  its  con- 
nexion is  best  observed  ;  but  also  because  syllogism  shows  the 
incoherence  only  to  those  (who  are  not  one  of  ten  thousand)  who 
perfectly  understand  mode  and  figure,  and  the  reason  upon  which 
those  forms  are  established  :  whereas  a  due  and  orderly  placing 
of  the  ideas  upon  which  the  inference  is  made  makes  every  one, 
whether  logician  or  not  logician,  who  understands  the  terms, 
and  hath  the  faculty  to  perceive  the  agreement  or  disagreement 
of  such  ideas  (without  which,  in  or  out  of  syllogism,  he  cannot 
perceive  the  strength  or  weakness,  coherence  or  incoherence,  of 
the  discourse)  see  the  want  of  connexion  in  the  argumentation, 
and  the  absurdity  of  the  inference. 

And  thus  I  have  known  a  man  unskilful  in  syllogism,  who  at 
first  hearing  could  perceive  the  weakness  and  inconclusiveness 
of  a  long,  artificial,  and  plausible  discourse,  wherewith  others 
better  skilled  in  syllogism  have  been  misled.  And  I  believe  there 
are  few  of  my  readers  who  do  not  know  such.  And  indeed  if  it 
were  not  so,  the  debates  #f  most  princes'  counsels,  and  the  busi- 
ness of  assemblies,  would  be  in  danger  to  be  mismanaged,  since 
those  who  are  relied  upon,  and  have  usually  a  great  stroke  in 
them,  are  not  always  such  who  have  the  good  luck  to  be  per- 
fectly knowing  in  the  forms  of  syllogism,  or  expert  in  mode  and 
figure.  And  if  syllogism  were  the  only  or  so  much  as  the  surest 
way  to  detect  the  fallacies  of  artificial  discourses,  I  do  not  think 
that  all  mankind,  even  princes  in  matters  that  concern  their 
crowns  and  dignities,  are  so  much  in  love  with  falsehood  "and 
mistake,  that,  thev  would  everv  where  have  neglected  to  brin 


CH.XVII.]  REASON.  201 

syllogism  into  the  debates  of  moment,  or  thought  it  ridiculous 
so  much  as  to  offer  them  in  affairs  of  consequence  ;  a  plain  evi- 
dence to  me,  that  men  of  parts  and  penetration,  who  were  not 
idly  to  dispute  at  their  ease,  but  were  to  act  according  to  tl*; 
result  of  their  debates,  and  often  pay  for  their  mistakes  with 
their  heads  or  fortunes,  found  those  scholastic  forms  were  of 
little  use  to  discover  truth  or  fallacy,  whilst  both  the  one  and  the 
other  might  be  shown,  and  better  shown,  without  them,  to  those 
who  would  not  refuse  to  see  what  was  visibly  shown  them. 

Secondly,  another  reason  that  makes  me  doubt  whether  syllo- 
gism be  the  only  proper  instrument  of  reason  in  the  discovery  of 
truth  is,  that  of  whatever  use  mode  and  figure  is  pretended  to  be 
in  the  laying  open  of  fallacy  (which  has  been  above  considered) 
those  scholastic  forms  of  discourse  are  not  less  liable  to  fallacies 
than  the  plainer  ways  of  argumentation;  and  for  this  I  appeal 
to  common  observation,  which  has  always  found  these  artificial 
methods  of  reasoning  more  adapted  to  catch  and  entangle  the 
mind,  than  to  instruct  and  inform  the  understanding.  And 
hence  it  is  that  men,  emn  when  they  are  baffled  and  silenced  in 
this  scholastic  way,  are  seldom  or  never  convinced,  and  so 
brought  over  to  the  conquering  side ;  they  perhaps  acknowledge 
their  adversary  to  be  the  more  skilful  disputant,  but  rest  neverthe- 
less persuaded  of  the  truth  on  their  sick- ;  and  go  away,  worsted 
as  they  are,  with  the  same  opinion  they  brought  with  them, 
which  they  could  not  do  if  this  way  of  argumentation  carried 
tight  and  conviction  with  it,  and  made  men  see  where  the  truth 
lay.  And  therefore  syllogism  has  been  thought  more  proper  for 
the  attaining  victory  in  dispute,  than  for  the  discovery  or  confir- 
mation of  truth  in  fair  inquiries.  And  if  it  be  certain  that  falla- 
cies can  be  couched  in  syllogism,  as  it  cannot  be  denied  ;  it  must 
be  something  else,  and  not  syllogism,  that  must  discover  them. 

I  have  had  experience  how  ready  some  men  are,  when  all  the 
use  which  they  have  been  wont  to  ascribe  to  any  thing  is  not 
allowed,  to  cry  out,  that  I  am  for  laying  it  wholly  aside.  But, 
to  prevent  such  unjust  and  groundless  imputations,  I  tell  them, 
that  I  am  not  for  taking  away  any  helps  to  the  understanding, 
in  the  attainment  of  knowledge.  And  if  men  skilled  in,  and 
used  to  syllogisms,  find  them  assisting  to  their  reason  in  the  dis- 
covery of  truth,  I  think  they  ought  to  make  use  of  them.  All 
that  1  aim  at  is,  that  ihey  should  not  ascribe  more  to  these  forms 
than  belongs  to  them  ;  and  think  that  men  have  no  use,  or  not 
so  lull  an  use  of  their  reasoning  faculty  without  them.  Some 
eyes  want  spectacles  to  see  things  clearly  and  distinctly;  but  let 
not  those  that  use  them  therefore  say,  nobody  can  see  clearly 
without  them  :  those  who  do  so  will  be  thought  in  favour  of  art 
(which  perhaps  they  are  beholden  to)  a  little  too  much  to  de- 
press and  discredit  nature.  Reason,  by  its  own  penetration, 
when-  it  is  strong  and  exercised,  usually  sees  quicker  and 
clearer  without  syllogfem.      If  use  of  those  spectacles  has  so 


L'tii  REASON.  [BOOK  IV. 

dimmed  its  sight  that  it  cannot  without  them  see  consequences 
or  inconsequences  in  argumentation,  I  am  not  so  unreasonable 
as  to  be  against  the  using  them.  Every  one  knows  what  best, 
/its  his  own  sight  But  let  him  not  thence  conclude  all  in  the 
dark,  who  use  not  just  the  same  helps  that  he  finds  a  need  of. 

§  5.    HELPS  LITTLE  IN  DEMONSTRATION,    LESS  IN   PROBABILITY". 

But  however  it  be  in  knowledge,  I  think  I  may  truly  say,  it  is 
of  far  less,  or  no  use  at  all  in  probabilities.  For,  the  assent 
there  being  to  be  determined  by  the  preponderancy,  after  due 
weighing  of  all  the  proofs,  with  all  circumstances  on  both  sides, 
nothing  is  so  unfit  to  assist  the.  mind  in  that  as  syllogism  ;  which 
running  away  with  one  assumed  probability,  or  one  topical  argu- 
ment pursues  that  till  it  has  led  the  mind  quite  out  of  sight  of  the 
thing  under  consideration  ;  and  forcing  it  upon  some  remote 
difficulty,  holds  it  fast  there,  entangled  perhaps,  and  as  it  were, 
manacled  in  the  chain  of  syllogisms,  without  allowing  it  the 
liberty,  much  less  affording  it  the  helps,  requisite  to  show  on 
which  side,  all  things  considered,  is  the  greater  probability. 

§  6.  SERVES  NOT  TO  INCREASE  OUR  KNOWLEDGE,  BUT  FENCE  WITH  IT. 

But  let  it  help  us  (as  perhaps  may  be  said)  in  convincing  men 
of  their  errors  and  mistakes  :  (and  yet  I  would  fain  see  the  man 
that  was  forced  out  of  his  opinion  by  dint  of  syllogism)  yet  still 
it  fails  our  reason  in  that  part,  which,  if  not  its  highest  perfec- 
tion, is  yet  certainly  its  hardest  task,  and  that  which  we  most 
need  its  help  in  ;  and  that  is  the  finding  out  of  proofs,  and  mak- 
ing new  discoveries.  The  rules  of  syllogism  serve  not  to  fur- 
nish the  mind  with  those  intermediate  ideas  that  may  show  the 
connexion  of  remote  ones.  This  way  of  reasoning  discovers 
no  new  proofs,  but  is  the  art  of  marshalling  and  ranging  the  old 
ones  we  have  already.  The  forty-seventh  proposition  of  the  first 
book  of  Euclid  is  very  true  ;  but  the  discovery  of  it,  I  think, 
not  owing  to  any  rules  of  common  logic.  A  man  knows  first, 
and  then  he  is  able  to  prove  syllogistically.  So  that  syllogism 
comes  after  knowledge,  and  then  a  man  has  little  or  no  need  of 
it.  But  it  is  chiefly  by  the  finding  out  those  ideas  that  show  the 
connexion  of  distant  ones,  that  our  stock  of  knowledge  is  in- 
creased, and  that  useful  arts  and  sciences  are  advanced.  Syllogism 
at  best  is  but  the  art  of  fencing  with  the  little  knowledge  we 
have,  without  making  any  addition  to  it.  And  if  a  man  should 
employ  his  reason  all  this  way,  he  will  not  do  much  otherwise 
than  he,  who  having  got  some  iron  out  of  the  bowels  of  the  earth, 
should  have  it  beaten  up  all  into  swords,  and  put  it  into  his  ser- 
vants' hands  to  fence  with,  and  bang  one  another.  Had  the  king 
of  Spain  employed  the  hands  of  his  people,  and  his  Spanish 
iron  so,  he  had  brought  to  light  but  little  of  that  treasure  that 
lay  so  long  hid  in  the  entrails  of  America.  And  I  am  apt  to 
think,  that  he  who  shall  employ  all  the  force  o(  his  reason  only 


i  II.  XVII.  j  REASO.N.  203 

in  brandishing  of  syllogisms,  will  discover  very  little  of  that  mass 
of  knowledge  which  lies  yet  concealed  in  the  secret  recesses  of 
nature  ;  and  which,  I  am  apt  to  think,  native  rustic  reason  (as 
it  formerly  has  done)  is  likelier  to  open  a  way  to,  and  add  to  the 
common  stock  of  mankind,  rather  than  any  scholastic  proceeding 
by  the  strict  rule  of  mode  and  figure. 

§  7.  OTHER  HELPS  SHOULD  BE  SOUGHT. 

I  doubt  not,  nevertheless,  but  there  are  ways  to  be  found  out 
to  assist  our  reason  in  this  most  useful  part ;  and  this  the  judicious 
Hooker  encourages  me  to  say,  who  in  his  Eccl.  Pol.  1.  i.  §  6, 
speaks  thus:  "  If  there  might  be  added  the  right  helps  of  true 
art  and  learning  (which  helps,  I  must  plainly  confess,  this  age 
of  the  world,  carrying  the  name  of  a  learned  age,  doth  neither 
much  know,  nor  generally  regard)  there  would  undoubtedly  be 
almost  as  much  difference  in  maturity  of  judgment  between  men 
therewith  inured,  and  that  which  men  now  are,  as  between 
men  that  are  now  and  innocents."  I  do  not  pretend  to  have 
found,  or  discovered  here  any  of  those  right  helps  of  art,  this 
great  man  of  deep  thought  mentions  ;  but  this  is  plain,  that 
syllogism,  and  the  logic  now  in  use,  which  were  as  well  known 
in  his  days,  can  be  none  of  those  he  means.  It  is  sufficient  for 
me,  if  by  a  discourse,  perhaps  something  out  of  the  way,  I  am 
sure  as  to  me  wholly  new  and  unborrowed,  I  shall  have  given 
occasion  to  others  to  cast  about  for  new  discoveries,  and  to  seek 
in  their  own  thoughts  for  those  right  helps  of  art,  which  will 
scarce  be  found,  I  fear,  by  those  who  servilely  confine  themselves 
to  the  rules  and  dictates  of  others.  For  beaten  tracks  lead  this 
sort  of  cattle  (as  an  observing  Roman  calls  them)  whose 
thoughts  reach  only  to  imitation,  wore  quo  eundum  est,  sed  quo 
itur.  But  I  can  be  bold  to  say,  that  this  age  is  adorned  with 
some  men  of  that  strength  of  judgment,  and  largeness  of  com- 
prehension, that  if  they  would  employ  their  thoughts  on  this 
subject,  could  open  new  and  undiscovered  ways  to  the  advance- 
ment of  knowledge. 

§  8.    WE  REASON  ABOUT  PARTICULARS. 

Having  here  had  an  occasion  to  speak  of  syllogism  in  general, 
rind  the  use  of  it  in  reasoning,  and  the  improvement  of  our 
knowledge^  it  is  fit,  before  I  leave  this  subject,  to  take  notice  of 
one  manifest  mistake  in  the  rules  of  syllogism,  viz.  that  no  syl- 
logistical  reasoning  can  be  right  and  conclusive,  but  what  has  at 
least  one  general  proposition  in  it.  As  if  we  could  not  reason, 
and  have  knowledge  about  particulars:  whereas,  in  truth,  the 
matter  rightly  considered,  the  immediate  object  of  all  our  rea- 
soning and  knowledge  is  nothing  but  particulars.  Every  man'i 
reasoning  and  knowledge  is  only  about  the  ideas  existing  in  hi  5 
Own  mind,  which  are  truly,  every  one  of  them,  particular  exis- 
tences;    and  our  knowledge  and  reason  about  other  things  v- 


204  REASON.  [book  IV, 

only  as  they  correspond  with  those  of  our  particular  ideas.  So 
that  the  perception  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  our 
particular  ideas  is  the  whole  and  utmost  of  all  our  knowledge. 
Universality  is  but  accidental  to  it,  and  consists  only  in  this, 
that  the  particular  ideas  about  which  it  is  are  such,  as  more  than 
one  particular  thing  can  correspond  with,  and  be  represented  by. 
But  the  perception  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any 
two  ideas,  consequently  our  own  knowledge  is  equally  clear  and 
certain,  whether  either,  or  both,  or  neither  of  those  ideas  be 
capable  of  representing  more  real  beings  than  one,  or  no.  One 
thing  more  I  crave  leave  to  offer  about  syllogism,  before  I  leave  it, 
viz.  may  one  not  upon  just  ground  inquire,  whether  the  form  syllo- 
gism now  has  is  that  which  in  reason  it  ought  to  have  ?  For  the 
medius  terminus  being  to  join  the  extremes,  i.  e.  the  intermediate 
idea  by  its  intervention,  to  show  the  agreement  or  disagreement 
of  the  two  in  question :  would  not  the  position  of  the  medius 
terminus  be  more  natural,  and  show  the  agreement  and  disagree- 
ment of  the  extremes  clearer  and  better,  if  it  were  placed  in 
the  middle  between  them  ?  which  might  be  easily  done  by  trans- 
posing the  propositions,  and  making  the  medius  terminus  the 
predicate  of  the  first,  and  the  subject  of  the  second.     As  thus, 

"  Omnis  homo  est  animal, 
Omne  animal  est  vivens, 
Ergo  omnis  homo  est  vivens." 

"  Omne  corpus  est  extensum  et  solidum, 
Nullum  extensum  et  solidum  est  pura  extensio, 
Ergo  corpus  non  est  pura  extensio." 

I  need  not  trouble  my  reader  with  instances  in  syllogism; s, 
whose  conclusions  are  particular.  The  same  reason  holds  for 
the  same  form  in  them,  as  well  as  in  the  general. 

§  9.     1.    REASON   FAILS  US  FOR  WANT  OF  IDEAS. 

Reason,  though  it  penetrates  into  the  depths  of  the  sea  and 
earth,  elevates  our  thoughts  as  high  as  the  stars,  and  leads  us 
through  the  vast  spaces  and  large  rooms  of  this  mighty  fabric, 
yet  it  comes  far  short  of  the  real  extent  of  even  corporeal  being ; 
and  there  are  many  instances  wherein  it  fails  us :  as, 

First,  it  perfectly  fails  us  where  our  ideas  fail,  It  neither  does, 
Jior  can  extend  itself  farther  than  they  do.  And  therefore 
wherever  we  have  no  ideas,  our  reasoning  stops,  and  we  are  at 
an  end  of  our  reckoning ;  and  if  at  any  time  we  reason  about 
words,  which  do  not  stand  for  any  ideas,  it  is  only  about  those 
.sounds,  and  nothing  else. 

§   10.     2.    BECAUSE  OF  OBSCURE  AND  IMPERFECT  IDEAS. 

Secondly,  our  reason  is  often  puzzled  and  at  a  loss,  because 


■  It.    W  11. ]  KL.SS.'.N  205 

of  the  obscurity,  confusion,  or  imperfection  of  the  ideas  it  is 
employed  about ;  and  there  we  are.  involved  in  difficulties  and 
contradictions.  Thus,  not  having  any  perfect  idea  of  the  least 
extension  of  matter  nor  of  infinity,  we  are  at  a  loss  about  the 
divisibility  of  matter ;  .  but  having  perfect,  clear,  and  distinct 
ideas  of  number,  our  reason  meets  with  none  of  those  inextri- 
cable difficulties  in  numbers,  nor  finds  itself  involved  in  any  con- 
tradictions about  them.  Thus,  we  having  but  imperfect  ideas  of 
the  operations  of  our  minds,  and  of  the  beginning  of  motion  or 
thought  how  the  mind  produces  either  of  them  in  us,  and  much 
imperfecter  yet  of  the  operation  of  God  ;  run  into  great  difficul- 
ties about  free  created  agents,  which  reason  cannot  well  extricate 
itself  out  of. 

§  11.    3.  FOR    WANT  OF  INTERMEDIATE  IDEAS. 

Thirdly,  our  reason  is  often  at  a  stand,  because  it  perceives 
not  those  ideas  which  could  serve  to  show  the  certain  or  proba- 
ble agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  other  two  ideas ;  and  in 
this  some  men's  faculties  far  outgo  others.  Till  algebra,  that 
great  instrument  and  instance  of  human  sagacity,  was  discover- 
ed, men  with  amazement,  looked  on  several  of  the  demonstra- 
tions of  ancient  mathematicians,  and  could  scarce  forbear  to 
think  the  finding  several  of  those  proofs  to  be  something  more 
than  human. 

§   12.  4.  BECAUSE  OF  WRONG   PRINCIPLES. 

Fourthly,  the  mind,  by  proceeding  upon  false  principles,  is  of- 
ten engaged  in  absurdities  and  difficulties,  brought  into  straits 
and  contradictions,  without  knowing  how  to  free  itself;  and  in 
that  case  it  is  in  vain  to  implore  the  help  of  reason,  unless  it  be 
to  discover  the  falsehood  and  reject  the  influence  of  those  wrong* 
principles.  Reason  is  so  far  from  clearing  the  difficulties  which 
the  building  upon  false  foundations  brings  a  man  into,  that  if  he 
will  pursue  it,  it  entangles  him  the  more,  and  engages  him  deeper 
in  perplexities. 

§  13.  5.    BECAUSE  OF  DOUBTFUL  TERMS. 

Fifthly,  as  obscure  and  imperfect  ideas  often  involve  our  rea- 
son, so,  upon  the  same  ground,  do  dubious  words,  and  uncer- 
tain signs,  often  in  discourses  and  arguings,  when  not  warily 
attended  to,  puzzle  men's  reason,  and  bring  them  to  a  nonplus. 
But  these  two  latter  are  our  fault,  and  not  the  fault  of  reason. 
But  yet  the  consequences  of  them  are  nevertheless  obvious ;  and 
the  perplexities  or  errors  they  fill  men's  minds  with  are  every 
where  observable. 

}  1  1.  OIR    HIGHEST  DEGREE  OF    KNOWLEDGE  IS  INTUITIVE,  WITHOUT 
REASONING. 

Some  of  the  ideas  that  are  in  the  mind  are  so  there,  that  they 
Vot.H.  27 


2LMJ  klaso  v.  [book  i\ 

can  be  by  themselves  injfoiediately  cotnpared  one  with  another  : 
and  in  these  the  mind  is  able  to  perceive  that  they  agree  or  dis- 
agree as  clearly  as  that  it  has  them.  Thus  the  mind  perceives 
that  an  arch  of  a  circle  is  less  than  the  whole  circle,  as 
clearly  as  it  does  the  idea  of  a  circle  ;  and  this,  therefore, 
as  has  been  said,  I  call  intuitive  knowledge,  which  is  certain, 
beyond  all  doubt,  and  needs  no  probation,  nor  can  have  any  ; 
this  being  the  highest  of  all  human  certainty.  In  this  con- 
sists the  evidence  of  all  those  maxims,  which  nobody  has  any 
doubt,  about,  but  every  man  (does  not,  as  is  said,  only  assent  to, 
but)  knows  to  be  true  as  soon  as  ever  they  are  proposed  to  his 
understanding.  In  the  discovery  of,  and  assent  to  these  truths, 
there  is  no  use  of  the  discursive  faculty,  no  need  of  reasoning, 
but  they  are  known  by  a  superior  and  higher  degree  of  evidence. 
And  such,  if  I  may  guess  at  things  unknown,  I  am  apt  to  think 
that  angels  have  now,  and  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect 
shall  have,  in  a  future  state,  of  thousands  of  things,  which  now 
either  wholly  escape  our  apprehensions,  or  which,  our  short- 
sighted reason  having  got  some  faint  glimpse  of,  we,  in  the  dark, 
grope  after. 

§  15.    THE  NEXT   IS    DEMONSTRATION  BY  REASONING. 

But  though  we  have,  here  and  there,  a  little  of  this  clear  light, 
some  sparks  of  bright  knowledge  ;  yet  the  greatest  part  of  our 
ideas  are  such,  that  we  cannot  discern  their  agreement  or  dis- 
agreement by  an  immediate  comparing  them.  And  in  all  these 
we  have  need  of  reasoning,  and  must,  by  discourse  and  inference, 
make  our  discoveries.  Now  of  these  there  are  two  sorts,  which 
I  shall  take  the  liberty  to  mention  here  again. 

First,  those  whose  agreement  or  disagreement,  though  it  can- 
not be  seen  by  an  immediate  patting  them  together,  yet  may  be 
examined  by  the  intervention  of  other  ideas  which  can  be  com- 
pared with  them.  In  this  case,  when  the  agreement  or  dis- 
agreement of  the  intermediate  idea,  on  both  sides  with  those 
which  we  would  compare,  is  plainly  discerned,  there  it  amounts 
to  a  demonstration,  whereby  knowledge  is  produced ;  which, 
though  it  be  certain,  yet  it  is  not  so  easy  nor  altogether  so  clear 
as  intuitive  knowledge.  Because  in  that  there  is  barely  one 
simple  intuition,  wherein  there  is  no  room  for  any  the  least  mis- 
take or  doubt ;  the  truth  is  seen  all  perfectly  at  once.  In  de- 
monstration, it  is  true,  there  is  intuition  too,  but  not  altogether 
at  once  ;  for  there  must  be  a  remembrance  of  the  intuition  of 
the  agreement  of  the  medium,  or  intermediate  idea,  with  that 
we  compared  it  with  before,  when  we  compare  it  with  the  other  ; 
and  where  there  be  many  mediums,  there  the  danger  of  the 
mistake  is  the  greater.  For  each  agreement  or  disagreement  of 
the  ideas  must  be  observed  and  seen  in  each  step  of  the  whole 
train,  and  retained  in  the  memory  just  as  it  is  ;  and  the  mind 
must  be  sure  that  no  part  of  what  is  necessary  to  make  up  the 


ch.  xvii.  j  be  \>o.N.  nr, 

demonstration  is  omitted  Qf  overlooked.  This  makes  some  de- 
monstrations long  and  perplexed,  and  too  hard  foi*  (hose  who 
have  not  strength  of  parts  distinctly  to  perceive,  arid  exacth 
carry,  so  many  particulars  Orderly  in  their  heads.  And  even 
those  who  are  able  to  master  such  intricate  speculations  are  lain 
some  times  to  go  over  them  again,  and  there  is  need  of  more 
than  one  review  before  they  can  arrive  at  certainty.  But  yet 
where  the  mind  clearly  retains  the  intuition  it  had  of  the  agree- 
ment of  any  idea  with  another,  and  that  with  a  third,  and  that 
with  a  fourth,  &c.  there  the  agreement  of  the  first  and  the  fourth 
is  a  demonstration,  and  produces  certain  knowledge,  which  may 
be  called  rational  knowledge,  as  the  other  is  intuitive 

§  16.    TO  SUPPLY  THE  NARROWNESS  OF  THIS,  WE  HAVE  NOTHING  BIT 
JUDGMENT  UPON  PROBABLE  REASONING. 

Secondly  there  are  other  ideas,  whose  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment can  no  otherwise  be  judged  of  but  by  the  intervention  of 
others,  which  have  not  a  certain  agreement  with  the  extremes, 
but  an  usual  or  likely  one  :  and  in  these  it  is  that  the  judgment 
is  properly  exercised,  which  is  the  acquiescing  of  the  mind,  that 
any  ideas  do  agree,  by  comparing  them  with  such  probable  me- 
diums. This,  though  it  never  amounts  to  knowledge,  ho  not  to 
that  which  is  the  lowest  degree  of  it  ;  yet  sometimes  the  inter- 
mediate ideas  tie  the  extremes  so  firmly  together,  and  the  proba- 
bility is  so  clear  and  strong,  that  assent  as  necessarily  follows  it 
as  knowledge  does  demonstration.  The  great  excellency  and 
use  of  the  judgment  is  to  observe  right,  and  take  a  true  estimate 
of  the  force  and  weight  of  each  probability  ;  and  then,  casting 
them  up  all  right  together,  choose  that  side  which  has  the  over- 
balance. 

§  17.     INTUITION,   DEMONSTRATION,  JUDGMENT. 

Intuitive  knowledge  is  the  perception  of  the  certain  agree- 
ment or  disagreement  of  two  ideas  immediately  compared 
together. 

Rational  knowledge  is  the  perception  of  the  certain  agree- 
ment or  disagreement  of  any  two  ideas,  by  the  intervention  of 
one  or  more  other  ideas. 

Judgment  is  the  thinking  or  taking  two  ideas  to  agree  or  dis- 
agree, by  the  intervention  of  one  or  more  ideas,  whose  certain 
agreement  or  disagreement  with  them  it  does  not  perceive,  but 
hath  observed  to  be  frequent  and  usual. 

§   18.    CONSEQUENCES  OF  WORDS',     AND  CONSEQUENCES  OF  IDEAS. 

Though  the  deducing  one  proposition  from  another,  or  making 
inferences  in  words,  be  a  great  part  of  reason,  and  that  which 
it  is  usually  employed  about  ;  yet  the  principal  act  of  ratiocina- 
tion is  the  finding  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  two  ideas 
one  with  another,  by  tin-  intervention  of  a  third.     As  a  man,  b\ 


30S  REA-SON.  [boO'KJv, 

a  yard,  finds  two  houses  to  be  of  the  same  length,  which  could 
not  be  brought  together  to  measure  their  equality  by  juxtaposi- 
tion. Words  have  their  consequences,  as  the  signs  of  such 
ideas-:  and  things  agree  or  disagree,  as  really  they  are  ;  but  we 
observe  it  only  by  our  ideas. 

§  19.    FOUR  SORTS  OF  ARGUMENTS. 

Before  we  quit  this  subject,  it  may  be  worth  our  while  a  little 
to  reflect  on  four  sorts  of  arguments  that  men,  in  their  reason- 
ings with  others,  do  ordinarily  make  use  of  to  prevail  on  their 
assent ;  or  at  least  so  to  awe  them,  as  to  silence  their  opposi- 
tion. 

1.  AD  VERFCUKDIAM. 

First,  the  first  is  to  allege  the  opinions  of  men,  whose  parts, 
learning,  eminency,  power,  or  some  other  cause  has  gained  a 
name,  and  settled  their  reputation  in  the  common  esteem  with 
some  kind  of  authority.  When  men  arc  established  in  any  kind 
of  dignity,  it  is  thought  a  breach  of  modesty  for  others  to  dero- 
gate any  way  from  it,  and  question  the  authority  of  men  who  are 
in  possession  of  it.  This  is  apt  to  be  censured,  as  carrying  with 
it  too  much  of  pride,  when  a  man  does  not  readily  yield  to  the 
determination  of  approved  authors,  which  is  wont  to  be  received 
with  respect  and  submission  by  others  ;  and  it  is  looked  upon  as 
insolence  for  a  man  to  set  up  and  adhere  to  his  own  opinion, 
against  the  current  stream  of  antiquity  ;  or  to  put  it  in  the 
balance  against  that  of  some  learned  doctor,  or  otherwise 
approved  writer.  Whoever  backs  his  tenets  with  such  authori- 
ties, thinks  he  ought  thereby  to  carry  the  cause,  and  is  ready  to 
style  it  impudence  in  any  one  who  shall  stand  out  against  them. 
This,  I  think,  may  be  called  argumentum  ad  verecundiam, 

§  20.     2.   AD   ICNORANTIAM. 

Secondly,  another  way  that  men  ordinarily  use  to  drive  others, 
and  force  them  to  submit  their  judgments,  and  receive  the  opi- 
nion in  debate,  is  to  require  the  adversary  to  admit  what  they 
allege  as  a  proof,  or  to  assign  a  better.  And  this  I  call  argu- 
mentum ad  ignorant  icon. 

§  21.     3.   AD   HOMI.VEM. 

Thirdly,  a  third  way  is  to  press  a  man  with  consequences 
drawn  from  his  own  principles  or  concessions.  This  is  already 
known  under  the  name  of  argumentum  ad  hominem. 

§  22.    4.  AD  JUDICIUM. 

Fourthly,  the  fourth  is  the  using  of  proofs  drawn  from  any  of 
the  foundations  of  knowledge  or  probability.  This  I  call  argu- 
mentum ad  judicium.  This  alone,  of  all  the  four,  brings  true 
instruction  with  it,  and  advances  us  in  our  way  to  knowledge. 


v  II.  XVII.  1  RE  \m>>.  J09 

For,  1.  It  argues  not  another  man's  opinion  to  be  right,  becausi 

1,  out  of  respect,  or  any  other  consideration  hut  that  of  convic- 
tion, will  not  contradict  him.  2.  It  proves  not  another  man  to 
he  in  the  right  way,  nor  that  I  ought  to  take  the  same  with  him, 
because;  1  know  not  a  better.  3.  Nor  does  it  follow  that  another 
man  is  in  the  right  way,  because  he  has  shown  me  that  I  am  in 
the  wrong.  I  may  be  modest,  and  therefore  not  oppose  another 
man's  persuasion  :  I  may  be  ignorant,  and  not  be  able  to  pro- 
duce a  better :  I  may  he  in  an  error,  and  another  may  show  me 
that  I  am  so.  This  may  dispose  me,  perhaps,  for  the  reception 
of  truth,  but  helps  me  not  to  it ;  that  must  come  from  proofs 
and  arguments,  and  light  arising  from  the  feature  of  things  them- 
selves, and  not  from  my  shamefacedness,  ignorance,  or  error. 

§23.  ABOVE,  CONTRARY,  AND  ACCORDING  TO  REASON. 

By  what  has  been  before  said  of  reason,  we  may  be  able  to 
make  some  guess  at  the  distinction  of  things  into  those  that  are 
according  to,  above,  and  contrary  to  reason.  1.  According  to 
reason  are  such  propositions,  whose  truth  we  can  discover  by 
examining  and  tracing  those  ideas  we  have  from  sensation  and 
reflection,  and  by  natural  deduction  Hnd  to  be  true  or  probable. 

2.  Above  reason  are  such  propositions,  whose  truth  or  probability 
we  cannot  by  reason  derive  from  those  principles.  3.  Contrary 
to  reason  are  such  propositions,  as  are  inconsistent  with,  or  irre- 
concileable  to,  our  clear  and  distinct  ideas.  Thus  the  existence 
of  one  God  is  according  to  reason  ;  the  existence  of  more  than 
one  God  contrary  to  reason  ;  the  resurrection  of  the  dead  above 
reason.  Farther,  as  above  reason  may  be  taken  in  a  double 
sense,  viz.  either  as  signifying  above  probability,  or  above 
certainty  ;  so  in  that  large  sense  also,  contrary  to  reason,  is,  1 
suppose,  sometimes  taken. 

§24.    REASON  AND   FAITH  NOT  OPPOSITE. 

There  is  another  use  of  the  word  reason,  wherein  it  is  opposed 
to  faith  ;  which  though  it  be  in  itself  a  very  improper  way  of 
speaking,  yet  common  use  has  so  authorized  it,  that  it  would  be 
folly  either  to  oppose  or  hope  to  remedy  it :  only  I  think  it  may 
not  be  amiss  to  take  notice,  that  however  faith  he  opposed  to 
reason,  faith  is  nothing  but  a  firm  assent  of  the  mind  :  which  if 
it  be  regulated,  as  is  our  duty,  cannot  be  afforded  to  any  thing 
but  upon  good  reason  ;  and  so  cannot  be  opposite  to  it.  He 
that  believes,  without  having  any  reason  for  believing,  may  be  in 
love  with  his  own  fancies  ;  but  neither  seeks  truth  as  he  ought, 
nor  pays  the  obedience  due  to  bis  Maker,  who  would  have  him 
use  those  discerning  faculties  he  bus  given  him,  to  keep  him  out 
of  mistake  and  error.  He  that  does  not  this  to  the  best  of  his 
power,  however  lie  sometimes  lights  on  truth,  is  in  the  right  but 
by  chance  ;  and  I  know  not  whether  the  luckiness  of  the  acci- 
dent will  excuse  the  irregularity  of  his  proceeding.     This  at  least 


210  '  FAITH- AND' REASON:  [ BOOK  lit. 

is  certain,  that  he  must  be  accountable  for  whatever  mistakes  he 
runs  into  :  whereas  he  that  makes  use  of  the  light  and  faculties 
God  has  given  him,  and  seeks  sincerely  to  discover  truth  by 
those  helps  and  abilities  he  has,  may  have  this  satisfaction  in 
doing  his  duty  as  a  rational  creature,  that,  though  he  should  miss 
truth,  he  will  not  miss  the  reward  of  it.  For  he  governs  his 
assent  right,  and  places  it  as  he  should,  who,  in  any  case  or 
matter  whatsoever,  believes  or  disbelieves,  according  as  reason 
directs  him.  He  that  doth  otherwise,  transgresses  against  his 
own  light,  and  misuses  those  faculties  which  were  given  to  him 
to  no  other  end  but  to  search  and  follow  the  clearer  evidence 
and  greater  probability.  But  since  reason  and  faith  are  by  some 
men  opposed,  we  will  so  consider  them  in  the  following  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

OF  FAITH  AND  REASON,  AND  THEIR  DISTINCT  PROVINCE?. 

§  1.    NECESSARY  TO  KNOW  THEIR  BOUNDARIES. 

It  has  been  above  shown,  1.  That  we  are  of  necessity  igno- 
ant,  and  want  knowledge  of  all  sorts,  where  we  want  ideas. 
2.  That  we  are  ignorant,  and  want  rational  knowledge,  where  we 
want  proofs.  3.  That  we  want  certain  knowledge  and  certainty, 
as  far  as  we  want  clear  and  determined  specific  ideas.  4.  That 
we  want  probability  to  direct  our  assent  in  matters  where  we 
have  neither  knowledge  of  our  own,  nor  testimony  of  other 
men,  to  bottom  our  reason  upon. 

From  these  things  thus  premised,  I  think  we  may  come  to  lay 
down  the  measures  and  boundaries  between  faith  and  reason  ; 
the  want  whereof  may  possibly  have  been  the  cause,  if  not  of 
great  disorders,  yet  at  least  of  great  disputes,  and  perhaps  mis- 
takes in  the  world.  For  till  it  be  resolved  how  far  we  are  to  be 
guided  by  reason,  and  how  far  by  faith,  we  shall  in  vain  dispute, 
and  endeavour  to  convince  one  another  in  matters  of  religion. 

§'  2.    FAITH   AND  REASON  WHAT,   AS  CONTRADISTINGUISHED. 

I  find  every  sect,  as  far  as  reason  will  help  them,  make  use  of 
it  gladly  :  and  where  it  fails  them  they  cry  out,  it  is  matter  of 
faith,  and  above  reason.  And  I  do  not  see  how  they  can  argue 
with  any  one,  or  ever  convince  a  gainsayer  who  makes  use  of 
the  same  plea,  without  setting  down  strict  boundaries  between 
faith  and  reason ;  which  ought  to  be  the  first  point  established 
in  all  questions,  where  faith  has  any  thing  to  do. 

Reason  therefore  here,  as  contradistinguished  to  faith,  I  take 
to  be  the  discovery  of  the  certainty  or  probability  of  such  pro- 
positions ov  truths,  which  the  mind  arrives  at  by  deduction  made 


CH.  Will.]  FAITH  AND  REASON.  211 

from  such  ideas  which  it  hits  got  by  the  use  of  its  natural  facul- 
ties, viz.  by  sensation  or  reflection. 

Faith,  on  the  other  side,  is  the  assent  to  any  proposition,  not 
thus  made  out  by  the  deductions  of  reason  ;  but  upon  the  credit 
of  the  proposer,  as  coming-  from  God,  in  some  extraordinary 
way  of  communication.  This  way  or  discovering  truths  to  men 
we  call  revelation. 

§3.    NO  NEW  SIMI'LE   IDEA   CAN   BE   i  ONVI.VI.D  BY   TRADITIONAL 
REVELATION. 

First  then  I  say,  that  no  man  inspired  by  God  can  by  any 
revelation  communicate  to  others  any  new  simple  ideas,  which 
they  had  not  before  from  sensation  or  reflection.  For  whatso- 
ever impressions  he  himself  may  have  from  the  immediate  hand 
of  God,  this  revelation,  if  it  be  of  new  simple  ideas,  cannot  be 
conveyed  to  another,  either  by  words  or  any  other  signs.  Be- 
cause words,  by  their  immediate  operation  on  us,  cause  no  other 
ideas  but  of  their  natural  sounds  :  and  it  is  by  the  custom  of 
using  them  for  signs,  that  they  excite  and  revive  in  our  minds 
latent  ideas  ;  but  yet  only  such  ideas  as  were  there  before.  For 
words  seen  or  heard  rccal  to  our  thoughts  those  ideas  only 
which  to  us  they  have  been  wont  to  be  signs  of;  but  cannot 
introduce  any  perfectly  new,  and  formerly  unknown  simple 
ideas.  The  same  holds  in  all  other  signs,  which  cannot  signify 
to  us  things  of  which  we  have  before  never  had  any  idea  at  all. 

Thus  whatever  things  were  discovered  to  St.  Paul,  when  he 
was  rapt  up  into  the  third  heaven,  whatever  new-  ideas  his  mind 
there  received,  all  the  description  he  can  make  to  others  of  that 
place  is  only  this,  that  there  are  such  things,  "  as  eye  hath  not 
seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither  hath  it  entered  into  the  heart  of  man 
to  conceive."  And  supposing  God  should  discover  to  any  one 
supernaturally,  a  species  of  creatures  inhabiting,  for  example, 
Jupiter  or  Saturn,  (for  that  it  is  possible  there  maybe  such  nobody 
can  deny)  which  had  six  senses  ;  and  imprint  on  his  mind  the 
ideas  conveyed  to  theirs  by  that  sixth  sense  ;  he  could  no  more 
by  words*  produce  in  the  minds  of  other  men  those  ideas,  im- 
printed by  that  sixth  sense,  than  one  of  us  could  convey  the 
idea  of  any  colour  by  the  sounds  of  words  into  a  man,  who, 
having  the  other  four  senses  perfect,  had  always  totally  wanted 
the  fifth  of  seeing.  For  our  simple  ideas  then,  which  are  the 
foundation  and  sole  matter  of  all  our  notions  and  knowledge, 
we  must  depend  wholly  on  our  reason,  I  mean  our  natural  facul- 
ties.; and  can  by  no  means  receive  them,  or  any  of  them,  from 
traditional  revelation  ;  I  say  traditional  revelation,  in  distinction 
to  original  revelation.  By  the  one,  I  mean  that  first  impression, 
which  is  made  immediately  by  God,  on  the  mind  of  any  man,  to 
which  we  cannot  set  any  bounds;  and  by  the  other,  those  im- 
pressions delivered  over  to  others  in  words,  and  the  ordinarv 
ways  pf  couvevim;-  our ponceptions  one  to  another! 


5  1 2  FAITH  AJSD  REASON:  [BOOK    IV*', 

0>  4;  TRADITIONAL  REVELATION  MAY  MAKE  US  KNOW  PROPOSITIONS' 
KNOWABLE  ALSO  EY  REASON,  BUT  NOT  WITH  THE  SAME  CERTAINTY 
THAT   REASON   DOTH. 

Secondly,  I  say  that  the  same  truths  may  be  discovered,  and 
conveyed  down  from  revelation,  which  are  discoverable  to  us  by 
reason,  and  by  those  ideas  we  naturally  may  have.  So  God 
might,  by  revelation,  discover  the  truth  of  any  proposition  in 
Euclid ;  as  well  as  men,  by  the  natural  use  of  their  faculties, 
come  to  make  the  discovery  themselves.  In  all  things  of  this 
kind,  there  is  little  need  or  use  of  revelation,  God  having  furnish- 
ed us  with  natural  and  surer  means  to  arrive  at  the  knowledge 
of  them.  For  whatsoever  truth  we  come  to  the  clear  discovery 
of,  from  the  knowledge  and  contemplation  of  our  own  ideas, 
will  always  be  certainer  to  us  than  those  which  are  conveyed  to 
us  by  traditional  revelation.  For  the  knowledge  we  have,  that 
this  revelation  came  at  first  from  God,  can  never  be  so  sure,  as 
the  knowledge  we  have  from  the  clear  and  distinct  perception 
of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  our  own  ideas ;  v.  g.  if  it 
were  revealed  some  ages  since,  that  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle 
were  equal  to  two  right  ones,  I  might  assent  to  the  truth  of  that 
proposition,  upon  the  credit  of  the  tradition,  that  it  was  revealed; 
but  that  it  would  never  amount  to  so  great  a  certainty  as  the 
knowledge  of  it,  upon  the  comparing  and  measuring  my  own 
ideas  of  two  right  angles,  and  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle. 
The  like  holds  in  matter  of  fact,  knowable  by  our  senses ;  v.  g. 
the  history  of  the  deluge  is  conveyed  to  us  by  writings  which  had 
their  original  from  revelation  :  and  yet  nobody,  I  think,  will  say 
he  has  as  certain  and  clear  a  knowledge  of  the  flood  as  Noah 
that  saw  it ;  or  that  he  himself  would  have  had,  had  he  then 
been  alive  and  seen  it.  For  he  has  no  greater  assurance  than 
that  of  his  senses  that  it  is  writ  in  the  book  supposed  writ  by 
Moses  inspired :  but  he  has  not  so  great  an  assurance  that  Moses 
writ  that  book,  as  if  he  had  seen  Moses  write  it.  So  that  the 
assurance  of  its  being  a  revelation  is  less  still  than  the  assurance 
of  his  senses. 

§  5.    REVELATION  CANNOT  BE   ADMITTED  AGAINST  THE  CLEAR  EVIDENCE 

OF  REASON. 

In  propositions  then,  whose  certainty  is  built  upon  the  clear 
perception  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  our  ideas, 
attained  either  by  immediate  intuition,  as  in  self-evident  propo- 
sitions, or  by  evident  deductions  of  reason  in  demonstrations, 
we  need  not  the  assistance  of  revelation,  as  necessary  to  gain 
our  assent,  and  introduce  them  into  our  minds.  Because  the 
natural  ways  of  knowledge  could  settle  them  there,  or  had  done 
it  already  ;  which  is  the  greatest  assurance  we  can  possibly 
have  of  any  thing,  unless  where  God  immediately  reveals  it  to 
us ;  and  there  too  our  assurance  can  be  no  greater  than  our 
knowledge  is.  that  it  is  a  revelation  from  God.     But  vet  nothing-, 


CH.  XVIII.]  FAITH  AND  REASON.  213 

I  think,  can,  under  that  title,  shake  or  overrule  plain  know- 
ledge ;  or  rationally  prevail  with  any  man  to  admit  it  tor  true, 
in  a  direct  contradiction  to  the  clear  evidence  of  his  own  un- 
derstanding. For  since  no  evidence  of  our  faculties,  by  which 
we  receive  such  revelations,  can  exceed,  if  equal,  the  certainty 
of  our  intuitive  knowledge,  we  can  never  receive  for  a  truth 
any  thing  that  is  directly  contrary  to  our  clear  and  distinct, 
knowledge  :  v,  g.  the  ideas  of  one  body  and  one  place  do  so 
clearly  agree,  and  the  mind  has  so  evident  a  perception  of  their 
agreement,  that  we  can  never  assent  to  a  proposition,  that 
affirms  the  same  body  to  be  in  two  distant  places  at  once,  how- 
ever it  should  pretend  to  the  authority  of  a  divine  revelation  : 
since  the  evidence,  first,  that  we  deceive  not  ourselves,  in  ascri- 
bing it  to  God ;  secondly,  that  we  understand  it  right ;  can  never 
be  so  great  as  the  evidence  of  our  own  intuitive  knowledge, 
whereby  we  discern  it  impossible  for  the  same  body  to  be  in 
two  places  at  once.  And  therefore  no  proposition  can  be 
received  for  divine  revelation,  or  obtain  the  assent  due  to  all 
such,  if  it  be  contradictory  to  our  clear  intuitive  knowledge. 
Because  this  would  be  to  subvert  the  principles  and  foundations 
of  all  knowledge,  evidence,  and  assent  whatsoever ;  and  there 
would  be  left  no  difference  between  truth  and  falsehood,  no 
measures  of  credible  and  incredible  in  the  world,  if  doubtful 
propositions  shall  take  place  before  self-evident,  and  what  we 
certainly  know  give  way  to  what  we  may  possibly  be  mistaken 
in.  In  propositions,  therefore,  contrary  to  the  clear  perception 
of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  of  our  ideas,  it  will 
be  in  vain  to  urge  them  as  matters  of  faith.  They  cannot  move 
our  assent  under  that  or  any  other  title  whatsoever.  For  faith 
can  never  convince  us  of  any  thing  that  contradicts  our  know- 
ledge. Because  though  faith  be  founded  on  the  testimony  of 
God  (who  cannot  lie)  revealing  any  proposition  to  us  ;  yet  we 
cannot  have  an  assurance  of  the  truth  of  its  being  a  divine  re- 
velation greater  than  our  own  knowledge  ;  since  the  whole 
strength  of  the  certainty  depends  upon  our  knowledge  that 
God  revealed  it;  which  in  this  case, where  the  proposition  sup- 
posed revealed  contradicts  our  knowledge  or  reason,  will  always 
have  this  objection  hanging  to  it,  viz.  that,  we  cannot  tell  how 
to  conceive  that  to  come  from  God,  the  bountiful  Author  of  our 
being,  which,  if  received  for  true,  must  overturn  all  the  princi- 
ples and  foundations  of  knowledge  he  has  given  ns  ;  render 
all  our  faculties  useless  ;  wholly  destroy  the  most  excellent  pail 
of  his  workmanship,  our  understandings  ;  and  put  a  man  in  a 
condition,  wherein  he  will  have  less  light,  less  conduct,  than  the 
beast  that  perisheth'.  For  if  tin-  mind  of  man  can  never  have. 
a  clearer  (and  perhaps  not  so  clear)  evidence  of  any  thing  to  be 
a  divine  revelation,  as  it  has  of  the  principles  of  its  pwh  reason, 
it  can  never  have  a  arroundfoquil  the  clear  evidenccofits  reason. 
Vol,   If.  2R 


2!   I  FAITH    \N0  REASON.  [BOOK  IV. 

to   give   a    place  to  a  proposition,  whose  revelation  has  not  a 
greater  evidence  than  those  principles  have. 

§6.    TRADITIONAL  REVELATION  MUCH   6ESS. 

Thus  far  a  man  has  nse  of  reason,  and  ought  to  hearken  to  it, 
even  in  immediate  and  original  revelation,  where  it  is  supposed 
to  be  made  to  himself:  but  to  all  those  who  pretend  not  to  imme- 
diate revelation,  but  are  required  to  pay  obedience,  and  to  re- 
ceive the  truths  revealed  to  others,  which  by  the  tradition  of 
writings,  or  word  of  mouth,  are  conveyed  down  to  them  ;  reason 
has  a  great  deal  more  to  do,  and  is  that  only  which  can  induce  us 
to  receive  them.  For  matter  of  faith  being  only  divine  revela- 
tion, and  nothing  else  ;  faith,  as  we  use  the  word,  (called  com- 
monly divine  faith)  has  to  do  with  no  propositions  but  those 
which  arc  supposed  to  be  divinely  revealed.  So  that  I  do  not 
see  how  those,  who  make  revelation  alone  the  sole  object  of 
faith,  can  say,  that  it  is  a  matter  of  faith,  and  not  of  reason,  to 
believe  that  such  or  such  a  proposition,  to  be  found  in  such  or 
.such  a  book,  is  of  divine  inspiration  ;  unless  it  be  revealed,  that 
that  proposition,  or  all  in  that  book,  was  communicated  by 
divine  inspiration.  "Without  such  a  revelation,  the  believing  or 
not  believing  that  proposition  or  book  to  be  of  divine  authorhy 
can  never  be  matter  of  faith,  but  matter  of  reason  ;  and  such  as 
I  must  come  to  an  assent  to  only  by  the  use  of  my  reason, 
which  can  never  require  or  enable  me  to  believe  that  which  is 
contrary  to  itself :  it  being  impossible  for  reason  ever  to  procure 
any  assent  to  that,  which  to  itself  appears  unreasonable. 

In  all  things,  therefore,  where  Ave  have  clear  evidence  from 
our  ideas,  and  those  principles  of  knowledge  I  have  above  men- 
tioned, reason  is  the  proper  judge  ;  and  revelation,  though  it  may 
in  consenting  with  it  confirm  its  dictates,  yet  cannot  in  such 
cases  invalidate  its  decrees  :  nor  can  we  be  obliged,  where  we 
have  the  clear  and  evident  sentence  of  reason,  to  quit  it  for  the 
contrary  opinion,  under  a  pretence  that  it  is  matter  of  faith  ; 
which  can  have  no  authority  against  the  plain  and  clear  dictates 
ol   reason; 

x\  7.    THINGS  ABOVE  REASON. 

But  thirdly,  there  being  many  things,  wherein  we  have  very 
imperfect  notions,  or  none  at  all  ;  and  other  things,  of  whose 
past,,  present,  or  future  existence,  by  the  natural  use  of  our 
faculties,  we.  can  have  no  knowledge  at  all ;  these,  as  being 
beyond  tiie  discovery  of  our  natural  faculties,  and  above  reason, 
are,  when  revealed,  the  proper  matter  of  faith.  Thus,  that  part 
of  the  angels  rebelled  against  God,  and  thereby  lost  their  first 
happy  state  ;  and  that  the  dead  shall  rise,  and  live  again  :  these, 
and  the  like,  being  beyond  the  discovery  of  reason,  are  purely 
matters  of  faith,  with  which  reason  has  directly  nothing  to  do. 


CH.  XVI/I.]  FAITH   AM)  REASON.  215 

§  8.    OR  NOT  CONTRARY   TO    REASON",   IF  REVEALED,   ARE  MAI 
OK  FAITH. 

But  since  God  in  giving  us  the  light  of  reason  lias  not  the     !  ) 
tied  up  his  own  hands  from  affording  us,  when  he  thinks 
light  of  revelation  in  any  of  those  matters  wherein  our 
faculties  are  able  to  give  a  probable  determination  ;   revi  t, 

where  God  has  been  pleased  to  give  it,  must  carry  it  against  the 
probable  conjectures  of  reason.  Because  the  mind  not  being 
certain  of  the  truth  of  that  it  does  not  evident!}  know,  but  only 
yielding  to  the  probability  that  appears  in  it,  is  bound  to  give  lip 
its  assent  to  such  a  testimony  ;  which,  it  is  satisfied,  cor.  s  from 
one  who  cannot  err,  and  will  not  deceive.  But  yet  it  still  I  elongs 
to  reason  to  judge  of  the  truth  of  its  being  a  revelation,  and  of 
the  signification  of  the  words  wherein  it  is  delivered,  indeed, 
if  any  thing  shall  be  thought  revelation,  which  is  contrary  to  the 
plain  principles  of  reason,  and  the  evident  knowledge  the  mind 
has  of  its  own  clear  and  distinct  ideas  ;  there  reason  must  be 
hearkened  to,  as  to  a  matter  within  its  province  :  since  a  man 
can  never  have  so  certain  a  knowledge,  that  a  proposition,  u  hi.-  h 
contradicts  the  clear  principles  and  evidence  of  his  own  know- 
ledge, was  divinely  revealed,  or  that  he  understands  the  words 
rightly  wherein  it  is  delivered  ;  as  he;  has,  that  the  contrary  is 
true  :  and  so  is  bound  to  consider  and  judge  of  it  as  a  matter  of 
reason,  and  not  swallow  it,  without  examination,  as  a  matter  of 
faith. 

§  0.    REVELATION    IN   M  \ TTERS  WHERE  REASON  CANNOT  JI  DGEj  OR   B.1  T 
PROBABLY,    OUfiUT   TO   CE   HEARKENED  TO. 

First,  whatever  proposition  is  revealed,  of  whose  truth  our 
mind,  by  its  natural  faculties  and  notions,  cannot  judge  ;  that  is 
purely  matter  of  faith,  and  above  reason. 

Secondly,  all  propositions,  whereof  the  mind,  by  the  use  of 
its  natural  faculties,  can  come  to  determine  and  judge  from 
naturally  acquired  ideas,  are  matter  of  reason  ;  with  this  differ- 
ence still,  that  in  those  concerning  which  it  has  but  an  uncertain 
evidence,  and  so  is  persuaded  of  their  truth  only  upon  probable 
grounds,  which  still  admit  a  possibility  of  the  contrary  to  bo 
true,  without  doing  violence  to  the  certain  evidence  of  its  own 
knowledge,  and  overturning  the  principles  of  its  own  reason  ; 
in  such  probable  propositions,  1  say,  an  evident  revelation  oughf 
to  determine  our  assent  even  against  probability.  For  whefe 
the  principles  of  reason  have  not  evidenced  a  proposition  to  be 
certainly  true  or  false,  there  clear  revelation,  as  another  princi- 
ple of  truth,  and  ground  of  assent,  may  determine  ;  and  so  it 
may  be  matter  of  faith,  and  be  also  above  reason.  Because 
reason,  in  that  particular  matter,  being  able  to  reach  no  higher 
than  probability,  faith  gave  the  determination,  where  reason 
eame  short ;  and  revelation  discovered  on  which  side  the  truth 
lav. 


216  FAITH   AND  REASON.  [BOOK  IV. 

$  10.    IN  MATTERS   WHERE  REASON  CAN    AFFORD  CERTAIN  KNOWLEDGE, 
THAT  IS   TO   BE   HEARKENED   TO. 

Thus  far  the  dominion  of  faith  reaches,  and  that  without  any 
violence  or  hinderance  to  reason  ;  which  is  not  injured  or  dis- 
turbed, but  assisted  and  improved,  by  new  discoveries  of  truth 
coming  from  the  eternal  fountain  of  all  knowledge.  Whatever 
God  hath  revealed,  is  certainly  true  ;  no  doubt  can  be  made  of 
it.  This  is  the  proper  object  of  faith  :  but  whether  it  be  a  divine 
revelation  or  no,  reason  must  judge  ;  which  can  never  permit 
the  mind  to  reject  a  greater  evidence,  to  embrace  what  is  less 
evident,  nor  allow  it  to  entertain  probability  in  opposition  to 
knowledge  and  certainty.  There  can  be  no  evidenee  that  any 
traditional  revelation  is  of  divine  original,  in  the  words  we 
receive  it,  and  in  the  sense  we  understand  it,  so  clear  and  so 
certain  as  that  of  the  principles  of  reason  :  and  therefore  no- 
thing that  is  contrary  to,  and  inconsistent  with,  the  clear  and  self- 
evident  dictates  of  reason,  has  a  right  to  be  urged  or  assented 
to  as  a  matter  of  faith,  wherein  reason  hath  nothing  to  do. 
Whatsoever  is  divine  revelation  ought  to  overrule  all  our  opi- 
nions, prejudices,  and  interest,  and  hath  a  right  to  be  received 
with  full  assent.  Such  a  submission  as  this,  of  our  reason  to 
faith,  takes  not  away  the  landmarks  of  knowledge  :  this  shakes 
not  the  foundations  of  reason,  but  leaves  us  that  use  of  our 
faculties  for  which  they  were  given  us. 

5  11.  IF  THE  BOUNDARIES  BE  NOT  SET  BETWEEN  FAITH  AND  REASON, 
NO  ENTHUSIASM  OR  EXTRAVAGANCY  IN  RELIGION  CAN  BE  CONTRA- 
DICTED. 

If  the  provinces  of  faith  and  reason  are  not  kept  distinct  by 
these  boundaries,  there  will,  in  matters  of  religion,  be  no  room 
lor  reason,  at  all ;  and  those  extravagant  opinions  and  ceremo- 
nies that  are  to  be  found  in  the  several  religions  of  the  world 
will  not  deserve  to  be  blamed.  For  to  this  crying  up  of  faith, 
in  opposition  to  reason,  we  may,  I  think,  in  good  measure 
ascribe  those  absurdities  that  fill  almost  all  the  religions  which 
possess  and  divide  mankind.  For  men  having  been  principled 
With  an  opinion,  that  they  must  not  consult  reason  in  the  things 
of  religion,  however  apparently  contradictory  to  common 
sense,  and  the  very  principles  of  all  their  knowledge,  have  let 
loose  their  fancies  and  natural  superstition  ;  and  have  been  by 
them  led  into  so  strange  opinions,  and  extravagant  practices 
in  religion,  that  a  considerate  man  cannot  but  stand  amazed  at 
their  follies,  and  judge  them  so  far  from  being  acceptable  to  the 
great  and  wke  God,  that  he  cannot  avoid  thinking  them  ridicu- 
lous, and  offensive  to  a  sober  good  man.  So  that,  in  effect, 
religion,  which  should  most  distinguish  us  from  beasts,  and  ought 
most  peculiarly  to  elevate  us,  as  rational  creatures,  above  brutes, 
is  that  wherein  men  often  appear  most  irrational  and  more  sense- 
!<'ss  than  beasts  theirrsehc-'.      "Credo,  quia  impossibilc  est;"  1 


cir.  XIX.]  ENTHUSIASM.  217 

believe,  because  it  is  impossible,  might  in  a  good  man  pass  for  a 
sally  of  zeal ;  but  would  prove  a  very  ill  rule  for  men  to  choose 
their  opinions  or  religion  by. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

OF  ENTHUSIASM. 


§  1.  LOVE  OF  TRUTH  NECESSARY. 

He  that  would  seriously  set  upon  the  search  of  truth,  ought, 
in  the  first  place,  to  prepare  his  mind  with  a  love  of  it.  For  he 
that  loves  it  not  will  not  take  much  pains  to  get  it,  nor  be  much 
concerned  when  he  misses  it.  There  is  nobody  in  the  common- 
wealth of  learning  who  does  not  profess  himself  a  lover  of  truth ; 
and  there  is  not  a  rational  creature,  that  would  not  take  it  amiss 
to  be  thought  otherwise  of.  And  yet,  for  all  this,  one  may  truly 
say,  that  there  are  very  few  lovers  of  truth  for  truth-sake,  even 
among  those  who  persuade  themselves  that  they  are  so.  How 
a  man  may  know  whether  he  be  so  in  earnest,  is  worth  inquiry  : 
and  I  think  there  is  one  unerring  mark  of  it,  viz.  the  not  enter- 
taining any  proposition  with  greater  assurance  than  the  proofs  it 
is  built  upon  will  warrant.  Whoever  goes  beyond  this  measure 
of  assent,  it  is  plain,  receives  not  truth  in  the  love  of  it ;  loves 
not  truth  for  truth-sake,  but  for  some  other  by-end.  For  the 
evidence  that  any  proposition  is  true  (except  such  as  are  self- 
evident)  lying  only  in  the  proofs  a  man  has  of  it,  whatsoever 
degrees  of  assent  he  affords  it  beyond  the  degrees  of  that  evi- 
dence, it  is  plain  that  all  the  surplusage  of  assurance  is  owing  to 
some  other  affection,  and  not  to  the  love  of  truth  :  it  being  as 
impossible  that  the  love  of  truth  should  carry  my  assent  above 
the  evidence  there  is  to  me  that  it  is  true,  as  that  the  love  of  truth 
should  make  me  assent  to  any  proposition  for  the  sake  of  that 
evidence,  which  it  has  not,  that  it  is  true  ;  which  is  in  effect  to 
love  it  as  a  truth  because  it  is  possible  or  probable  that  it  may  not 
be  true.  In  any  truth  that  gets  not  possession  of  our  minds  by 
the  irresistible  light  of  self-evidence,  or  by  the  force  of  demon- 
stration, the  arguments  that  gain  it  assent  are  the  vouchers  and 
gage  of  its  probability  to  us  ;  and  we  can  receive  it  for  no  other 
than  such  as  they  deliver  it  to  our  understandings.  Whatsoever 
credit  or  authority  we  give  to  any  proposition,  more  than  it  re- 
ceives from  the  principles  and  proofs  it  supports  itself  upon,  is 
owing  to  our  inclinations  that  way,  and  is  so  far  a  derogation 
from  the  love  of  truth  as  such  ;  which,  as  it  can  receive  no  evi- 
dence from  our  passions  or  interests,  so  it  should  receive  no 
tincture  from  them. 


218  ENTHUSIASM.  [BOOK  IV, 

§  2.    A  FOnWAIlDNESS  TO  DICTATE,  FROM  WHENCE. 

The  assuming  an  authority  of  dictating  to  others,  and  a  for- 
wardness to  prescribe  to  their  opinions,  is  a  constant  concomitant 
of  this  bias  and  corruption  of  our  judgments.  For  how  almost 
can  it  be  otherwise,  but  that  he  should  be  ready  to  impose  on 
another's  belief,  who  has  already  imposed  on  his  own  ?  Who 
can  reasonably  expect  arguments  and  conviction  from  him,  in 
dealing  with  others,  whose  understanding  is  not  accustomed  to 
them  in  his  dealing  with  himself  ?  Who  does  violence  to  his 
own  faculties,  tyrannizes  over  his  own  mind,  and  usurps  the  pre- 
rogative that  belongs  to  truth  alone,  which  is  to  command  assent 
by  only  its  own  authority,  i.  e.  by  and  in  proportion  to  that  evi- 
dence which  it  carries  with  it. 

§  3.    FORCE  OF  ENTHUSIASM. 

Upon  this  occasion  I  shall  take  the  liberty  to  consider  a  third 
ground  of  assent,  which  with  some  men  has  the  same  authority, 
and  is  as  confidently  relied  on.  as  either  faith  ov  reason  ;  I  mean 
enthusiasm :  which,  laying  by  reason,  would  set  up  revelation 
without  it.  Whereby  in  effect  it  takes  away  both  reason  and 
revelation,  and  substitutes  in  the  room  of  it  the  ungrounded  fan- 
cies of  a  man's  own  brain,  and  assumes  them  for  a  foundation 
both  of  opinion  and  conduct. 

§  4.  REASON  AND  REVELATION. 

Reason  is  natural  revelation,  whereby  the  eternal  Father  of 
light,  and  fountain  of  all  knowledge,  communicates  to  mankind 
that  portion  of  truth  which  he  has  laid  within  the  reach  of  their 
natural  faculties  :  revelation  is  natural  reason  enlarged  by  a  new 
set  of  discoveries  communicated  by  God  immediately,  which 
reason  vouches  the  truth  of,  by  the  testimony  and  proofs  it  gives 
that  they  come  from  God.  So  that  he  that  takes  away  reason, 
to  make  way  for  revelation,  puts  out  the  light  of  both,  and  does 
much-what  the  same  as  if  he  would  persuade  a  man  to  put  out 
his  eyes,  the  better  to  receive  the  remote  light  of  an  invisible  star 
by  a  telescope. 

§  5.    RISE  OF  ENTHUSIASM. 

Immediate  revelation  being  a  much  easier  way  for  men  to  es- 
tablish their  opinions,  and  regulate  their  conduct,  than  the  tedious 
and  not  always  successful  labour  of  strict  reasoning,  it  is  no 
Wonder  that  some  have  been  very  apt  to  pretend  to  revelation, 
and  to  persuade  themselves  that  they  are  under  the  peculiar  gui- 
dance of  heaven  in  their  actions  and  opinions,  especially  in  those 
of  them  which  they  cannot  account  for  by  the  ordinary  methods 
of  knowledge,  and  principles  of  reason.  Hence  we  see  that  in 
all  ages  men,  in  whom  melancholy  has  mixed  with  devotion,  or 
whose  conceit  of  themselves  has  raised  them  into  an  opinion  of 
a  greater  familiarity  with  God,  and  a  nearer  admittance  to  his 


C8.  XIX. j  ENTHUSIASM.  HO 

favour  than  is  afforded  to  others,  have  often  nattered  themselves 
with  the  persuasion  of  an  immediate  intercourse  with  the  Deity, 
and  frequent  communications  from  the  Divine  Spirit.  God,  I 
own,  cannot  be  denied  to  be  able  to  enlighten  the  understanding 
by  a  ray  darted  into  the  mind  immediately  from  the  fountain  of 
light ;  this  they  understand  he  has  promised  to  do,  and  who  then 
has  so  good  a  title  to  expect  it  as  those  who  are  his  peculiar 
people,  chosen  by  him,  and  depending  on  him  ? 

§  6.    ENTHUSIASM. 

Their  minds  being  thus  prepared,  whatever  groundless  opinion 
comes  to  settle  itself  strongly  upon  their  fancies,  is  an  illumina- 
tion from  the  spirit  of  God,  and  presently  of  divine  authority : 
and  whatsoever  odd  action  they  find  in  themselves  a  strong  incli- 
nation to  do,  that  impulse  is  concluded  to  be  a  call  or  direction 
from  heaven,  and  must  be  obeyed  ;  it  is  a  commission  from  above, 
and  they  cannot  err  in  executing  it. 

§7. 
This  I  take  to  be  properly  enthusiasm,  which,  though  founded 
neither  on  reason  nor  divine  revelation,  but  rising  from  the  con- 
ceits of  a  warmed  or  overweening  brain,  works  yet,  where 
it  once  gets  footing,  more  powerfully  on  the  persuasions  and 
actions  of  men,  than  either  of  those  two,  or  both  together  :  men 
being  most  fonvardly  obedient  to  the  impulses  they  receive  from 
themselves ;  and  the  whole  man  is  sure  to  act  more  vigorously, 
w  here  the  whole  man  is  carried  by  a  natural  motion.  For  strong 
conceit,  like  a  new  principle,  carries  all  easily  with  I?,- when  got 
above  common  sense,  and  freed  from  all  restraint  of  reason,  and 
check  of  reflection,  it  is  heightened  into  a  divine  authority,  in 
concurrence  with  our  own  temper  and  inclination. 

§  8.    ENTHUSIASM  MISTAKEN    FOR  SEEING  AND  FEELING. 

Though  the  odd  opinions  and  extravagant  actions  enthusiasm 
has  run  men  into  were  enough  to  warn  them  against  this  wrong 
principle,  so  apt  to  misguide  them  both  in  their  belief  and  conduct ; 
yet  the  love  of  something  extraordinary,  the  ease  and  glory  it  is 
to  be  inspired,  and  be  above  the  common  and  natural  ways  of 
knowledge,  so  flatters  many  men's  laziness,  ignorance,  and  vanity, 
that  when  once  they  are  got  into  this  way  of  immediate  revela- 
tion, of  illumination  without  search,  and  of  certainty  without 
proof,  and  without  examination,  it  is  a  hard  matter  to  get  them 
out  of  it.  Reason  is  lost  upon  them  ;  they  arc  above  it  :  they 
see  the  light  infused  into  their  understandings,  and  cannot  be 
mistaken  ;  it  is  clear  and  visible  there,  like  the  light  of  bright 
sunshine;  shuns  itself,  and  needs  no  other  proof  but  its  own 
evidence:  the\  fee!  the  hand  of  God  moving  them  within,  and 
the  impulses  of  the  Spirit,  and  cannot  be  mistaken  in  what  they 
feel.     Thus  they  support  themselves,  and  are  sure  reason  hath 


220  ENTHUSIASM.  [BOOK  IV. 

nothing  to  do  with  what  they  see  and  feel  in  themselves  :  what 
they  have  a  sensible  experience  of  admits  no  doubt,  needs  no 
probation.  Would  he  not  be  ridiculous,  who  should  require  to 
have  it  proved  to  him  that  the  light  shines,  and  that  he  sees  it  ? 
It  is  its  own  proof,  and  can  have  no  other.  When  the  Spirit 
brings  light  into  our  minds,  it  dispels  darkness.  We  see  it,  as 
we  do  that  of  the  sun  at  noon,  and  need  not  the  twilight  of  reason 
to  show  it  us.  This  light  from  heaven  is  strong,  clear,  and 
pure,  carries  its  own  demonstration  with  it ;  and  we  may  as  na- 
turally take  a  glow-worm  to  assist  us  to  discover  the  sun,  as  to 
examine  the  celestial  ray  by  our  dim  candle,  reason. 

§   9.    ENTHUSIASM  HOW  TO  BE  DISCOVERED. 

This  is  the  way  of  talking  of  these  men  :  they  are  sure  be- 
cause they  are  sure  :  and  their  persuasions  are  right,  because 
they  are  strong  in  them.  For,  when  what  they  say  is  stripped 
of  the  metaphor  of  seeing  and  feeling,  this  is  all  it  amounts  to : 
and  yet  these  similes  so  impose  on  them,  that  they  serve  them 
for  certainty  in  themselves,  and  demonstration  to  others. 

§10. 
But  to  examine  a  little  soberly  this  internal  light,  and  this  feel- 
ing on  which  they  build  so  much.  These  men  have,  they  say, 
clear  light,  and  they  see  ;  they  have  awakened  sense,  and  they 
feel ;  this  cannot,  they  are  sure,  be  disputed  them.  For  when 
a  man  says  he  sees  or  feels,  nobody  can  deny  it  him  that  he  does 
so.  But  here  let  me  ask  :  this  seeing,  is  it  the  perception  of  the 
truth  of  the  proposition,  or  of  this,  that  it  is  a  revelation  from 
God  ?  This  feeling,  is  it  a  perception  of  an  inclination  or  fancy 
to  do  something,  or  of  the  Spirit  of  God  moving  that  inclination  ? 
These  are  two  very  different  perceptions,  and  must  be  carefully 
distinguished,  if  we  would  not  impose  upon  ourselves.  I  may 
perceive  the  truth  of  a  proprosition,  and  yet  not  perceive, 
that  it  is  an  immediate  revelation  from  God.  I  may  perceive, 
the  truth  of  a  proposition  in  Euclid,  without  its  being,  or  my 
perceiving  it  to  be  a  revelation :  nay,  I  may  perceive  I  came 
not  by  this  knowledge  in  a  natural  way,  and  so  may  con- 
clude it  revealed,  without  perceiving  that  it  is  a  revelation  from 
God  ;  because  there  be  spirits,  which,  without  being  divinely 
commissioned,  may  excite  those  ideas  in  me,  and  lay  them  in 
such  order  before  my  mind,  that  I  may  perceive  their  connexion. 
So  that  the  knowledge  of  any  proposition  coming  into  my  mind, 
I  know  not  how,  is  not  a  perception  that  it  is  from  God.  Much 
less  is  a  strong  persuasion  that  it  is  true,  a  perception  that  it  is 
from  God,  or  so  much  as  true.  But  however  it  be  called  light 
and  seeing,  I  suppose  it  is  at  most  but  belief  and  assurance  ;  and 
the  proposition  taken  for  a  revelation  is. not  such  as  they  know 
to  be  true,  but  take  to  be  true.  For  where  a  proposition  is 
known  to  be  true,  revelation  is  needless  :  and  it  is  bard  to  con- 


'.ii     V.IX.J  *.V;  (iCSj  \-.\i  *l%\ 

Cewe  how  there  can  be  a  revelation  to  any  one  of  what  lie  knows 
-already.      Ii'  therefore  it  he  a  proposition  which  they  are  per- 
suaded, but  do  not  know,  to  bo  true,  whatever  they  may  call  it, 
it  is  not  seeing,  but  believing.     For  these  are  two  ways,  wheiebv 
truth  comes  into  the  mind,  wholly  distinct,  so  that  one  is  not 
the  other.     What  I  see,  I  know  to  be  so  by  the  evidence  of  the 
thing  itself :  what  I  believe,  I  take  to  be  so  upon  the  testimony 
of  another  ;  but  this  testimony  I  must  know  to  be  given,  or  else 
what  ground  have  1  of  believing  ?    I  must  see  that  it  is  God  that 
reveals  this  to  me,  or  else  i  see  nothing.     The  question  then  here 
is,  how  do  I  know  that  God  is  the  revealer  of  this  to  me  ;  that 
this  impression  is  made  upon  my  mind  by  his  Holy  Spirit,  and  that 
therefore  I  ought  to  obey  it  ?     If  I  know  not  this,  how  great 
soever the  assurance  is  that  I  am  possessed  with,  it  is  groundless  ; 
whatever  light  I  pretend  to,  it  is  but  enthusiasm.     For  whether 
the  proposition  supposed  to  be  revealed  be  in  itself  evidently  true, 
or  visibly  probable,  or  by  the  natural  ways  of  knowledge  uncer- 
tain, the  proposition  that  must  be  well  grounded,  and  manifested 
to  be  true,  is  this,  that  God  is  the  revealer  of  it,  and  that  what 
I  take  to  be  a  revelation  is  certainly  put  into  my  mind  by  him, 
and  is  not  an  illusion  dropped  in  by  some  other  spirit,  or  raised 
by  my  own  fancy.     For  if  I  mistake  not,  these  men  receive  it 
for  true,  because  they  presume  God  revealed  it.     Does  it  not 
then  stand  them  upon,  to  examine  on  what  grounds  they  presume 
it  to  be  a  revelation  from  God  ?  or  else  all  their  confidence  is 
mere  presumption:  and  this  light  they  are  so  dazzled  with,  is 
nothing  but  an  ignis  fatuus,  that  leads  them  constantly  round  in 
this  circle,  it  is  a  revelation,  because  they  firmly  believe  it,  ancl 
they  believe  it,  because  it  is  a  revelation. 

'}  11.    ENTHUSIASM  FAILS  OF  EVIDENCE  THAT  THE  PROPOSITION  IS 
FROM  GOD. 

In  all  that  is  of  divine  revelation,  there  is  need  of  no  other 
proof  but  that  it  is  an  inspiration  from  God  :  for  he  can  neither 
deceive  nor  be  deceived.     But  how  shall  it  be  known  that  any 
proposition  in  our  minds  is  a  truth  infused  by  God,  a  truth  that 
is  revealed  to  us  by  him,  which  he  declares  to  us,  and  therefore 
we  ought  to  believe  ?     Here  it  is  that  enthusiasm  fails  of  the 
evidence  it  pretends  to.     For  men  thus  possessed  boast  of  a 
light  whereby  they  say  they  are  enlightened,  and  brought  into 
the  knowledge  of  this  or  that  truth.     But  if  they  know  it  to  be  a 
truth,  they  must  know  it  to  be  so,  either  by  its  own  self-evidence 
to  natural  reason,  or  by  the  rational  proofs  that  make  it  out  to 
be  so.     If  they  see  and  know  it  to  be  a  trutfi,  either  of  these 
two  ways,  they  in  vain  suppose  it  to  be  a  revelation.     For  they 
know  it  to  be  true  the  same  way  that  a»y  other  man  naturally 
may  know  that  it  is  so  without  th?  help  of  revelation.     For 
thus  all  the  truths,  of  what  kind  soever,  that  men  uninspired  are 
enlightened  with,  came  into  th«*  minds,  and  are  established 

Vol.   II.  ,r» 


2gg  f-.NTHLSlAsJl.  [BOOR  iv; 

there.     Ii  they  say  they  know  it  to  be  true,  because  it  is  a  reve- 
lation from  God,  the  reason  is  good :  but  then  it  will  be  demanded 
how  they  know  it  to  be  a  revelation  from  God.     If  they  say,  by 
the  light  it  brings  with  it,  which  shines  bright  in  their  minds,  and 
they  cannot  resist :  I  beseech  them  to  consider  whether  this  be 
any  more  than  what  we  have  taken  notice  of  already,  viz.  that  it 
is  a  revelation,  because  they  strongly  believe  it  to  be  true.     For 
all  the  light  they  speak  of  is  but  a  strong,  though  ungrounded, 
persuasion  of  their  own  minds,  that  it  is  a  truth.     For  rational 
grounds  from  proofs  that  it  is  a  truth,  they  must  acknowledge  to 
have  none  ;  for  then  it  is  not  received  as  a  revelation,  but  upon 
the  ordinary  grounds  that  other  truths  are  received  :  -and  if  they 
believe  it  to  be  true,  because  it  is  a  revelation,  and  have  no  other 
reason  for  its  being  a  revelation,  but  because  they  are  fully  per- 
suaded, without  any  other  reason,  that  it  is  true  ;  they  believe  it 
to  be  a  revelation  only  because  they  strongly  believe  it  to  be  a 
revelation  ;  which  is  a  very  unsafe  ground  to  proceed  on,  either 
in  our  tenets  or  actions.     And  what  readier  way  can  there  be  to 
run  ourselves  into  the  most  extravagant  errors  and  miscarriages", 
than  thus  to  set  up  fancy  for  our  supreme  and  sole  guide,  and  to 
believe  any  proposition  to  be  true,  any  action  to  be  right,  only 
because,  we  believe  it  to  be  so  ?     The  strength  of  our  persuasions 
is  no  evidence  at  all  of  their  own  rectitude :  crooked  things  ma\ 
be  as  stiff  and  inflexible  as  straight :  and  men  may  be  as  positive 
and  peremptory  in  error  as  in  truth.     How  come  else  the  un- 
tractable  zealots  in  different  and  opposite  parties  ?     For  if  the 
light,  which  every  one  thinks  he  has  in  his  mind,  which  in  this 
case  is  nothing  but  the  strength  of  his  own  persuasion,  be  an  evi- 
dence that  it  is  from  God,  contrary  opinions  have  the  same  title 
to  inspirations  ;  and  God  will  be  not  only  the  father  of  lights, 
but  of  opposite  and  contradictory  lights,  leading  men  contrary 
Avays  ;  and   contradictory  propositions  will  be  divine  truths,   if 
an  ungrounded  strength  of  assurance  be  an  evidence  that  any 
proposition  is  a  divine  revelation. 

§    12.      FIRMNESS    OF    PERSUASION  NO  PROOF  THAT  ANY  PROPOSITION   IS 

FROM  GOD. 

This  cannot  be  otherwise,  whilst  firmness  of  persuasion  i> 
made  the  cause  of  believing,  and  confidence  of  being  in  the  right 
rs  made  an  argument  of  truth.  St.  Paul  himself  believed  he  did 
well,  and  that  he  had  a  call  to  it  when  he  persecuted  the  Chris- 
tians, whom  he  confidently  thought  in  the  wrong :  but  yet  it  was 
he,  and  not  thej,  who  were  mistaken.  Good  men  are  men  still 
liable  to  mistakes  ,  and  are  sometimes  warmly  engaged  in  errors 
which  they  take  for  divine  truths,  shining  in  their  minds  with  the 
clearest  light. 

§   13.    LIGH'i  ix  the  MIND,  WllAJ. 

T.teKt..  true.  \kht  in  &e  infra  ;<  or  can  ]Te  nothieg  else  but  the 


)i.    Xl-\.  |  l,\  J  m  .1IAs.ll.  J^J 

evidence  ol  the  truth  of  any  proposition  ;  and  it"  it  be  not  it 
self-evident  proposition,  all  the  light  it  has,  or  can  have,  is  from 
the  clearness  and  validity  w  those  proofs  nj)on  which  it  is  re- 
ceived. To  talk  of  any  other  light  in  the  understanding,  is  to 
put  ourselves  in  the  dark,  or  in  the  power  of  the  Prince  of  dark- 
ness, and  by  our  own  consent  to  give  ourselves  up  to  delusion, 
to  believe  a  lie.  For  if  strength  of  persuasion"  be  the  light 
which  must  guide  us;  I  ask  how  shall  any  one  distinguish  be- 
tween the  delusions  of  Satan  and  the  inspirations  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  ?  He  can  transform  himself  into  an  angel  of  light.  And 
they  who  are  led  by  this  son  of  the  morning  are  as  fully  satisfied 
of  the  illumination,  i.  e.  are  as  strongly  persuaded  that  they  are 
enlightened  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  as  any  one  who  is  so ;  they 
acquiesce  and  rejoice  in  it,  are  acted  by  it:  and  nobody  can  be 
more  sure,  nor  more  in  the  ri.<rht  (if  their  own  stroag  belief  ma\ 

'    judge)  than  (hey. 

§   14.    ftSVELATION  MUST  BE  JUDGEtt  OF  BY  REASON. 

He,  therefore,  that  will  not  give  himself  up  to  all  the  extrava- 
gancies of  delusion  and  error,  must  bring  this  guide  of  his  light 
within  to  the  trial.     God,  when  he  makes  the  prophet,  does  nor. 
unmake  the  man.     He  leaves  all  his  faculties  in  the  natural  state, 
to  enable  him  to  judge  of  his  inspirations,  whether  they  be  of 
divine  original  or  no.     When  he  illuminates  the  mind  with  super- 
natural light,  he  does  not  extinguish  that  which  is  natural.     If 
lie  wrould  have  us  assent  to  the  truth  of  any  proposition,  he  either 
evidences  that  truth  by  the  usual  methods  of  natural  reason,  or 
else  makes  it  known  to  be  a  truth  which  he  woidd  have  us  assent 
to,  by  his  authority ;    and  convinces  us  that  it  is  from  him,  by 
some  marks  winch  reason  cannot  be  mistaken  in.     Reason  must 
be  our  last  judge  and  guide  in  every  thing.     I  do  not  mean  that 
we  must  consult  reason,  and  examine  whether  a  proposition 
revealed  from  God  can  be  made  out  by  natural  principles,  and 
it'  it  cannot,  that  then  we  may  reject  it :  but  consult  it  we  must, 
and  by  it  examine  whether  it  be  a  revelation  from  God  or  no. 
And  if  reason  finds  it  to  be  revealed  from  God,  reason  then  de- 
clares for  it  as  much  as  for  any  other  truth,  and  makes  it  one  of 
her  dictates.     Every  conceit  that  thoroughly  warms  our  fancies 
must  pass  for  an  inspiration,  if  there  be  nothing  but  the  strength 
of  our  persuasions,  whereby  to  judge  of  our  persuasions  :    if 
reason  must  not  examine  their  truth  by  something  extrinsical  to 
the  persuasions  themselves,  inspirations  and  delusions,  truth  and 
falsehood,  will  have  the  same  measure,  and  will  not  be  possible 
to  be  distinguished. 

§  15.    BELIEF  NO  PROOF   OF  REVELATION'. 

If  this  internal  light,  or  any  proposition  which  under  that  title 
wTe  take  for  inspired,  be  conformable  to  the  principles  of  reason, 
or  to  thr  word  of  God,   whirh    is  attested   revelation,  rcasdii 


2d4-  I.M^lLSlAs.Nr.  [BOOK   II 

warrants  it,  and  we  may  safely  receive  it  for  true,  and  be  guided 
by  it  in  our  belief  and  actions  :  if  it  receive  no  testimony  nor 
evidence  from  either  of  these  rules,  we  cannot  take  it  for  a  reve- 
lation, or  so  much  as  for  true,  till  we  have  some  other  mark  that, 
it  is  a  revelation  besides  our  believing  that  it  is  so.  Thus  we 
see  the  holy  men  of  old,  who  had  revelations  from  God,  had 
something  else  besides  that  internal  light  of  assurance  in  their 
own  minds,  to  testify  to  them  that  it  was  from  God.  They  were 
not  left  to  their  own  persuasions  alone,  that  those  persuasions 
were  from  God  ;  but  had  outward  signs  to  convince  them  of  the 
author  of  those  revelations.  And  when  they  were  to  convince 
others,  they  had  a  power  given  them  to  justify  the  truth  of  their 
commission  from  heaven,  and  by  visible  signs  to  assert  the  divine 
authority  of  a  message  they  were  sent  with.  Moses  saw  the 
bush  burn  without  being  consumed,  and  heard  a  voice  out  of  it. 
This  was  something  besides  finding  an  impulse  upon  his  mind  to 
go  to  Pharaoh,  that  he  might  bring  his  brethren  out  of  Egypt : 
and  yet  he  thought  not  this  enough  to  authorize  him  to  go  with 
that  message,  till  God,  by  another  miracle  of  his  rod  turned  into- 
a  serpent,  had  assured  him  of  a  power  to  testify  his  mission,  by 
the  same  miracle  repeated  before  them,  whom  he  was  sent  to. 
Gideon  was  sent  by  an  angel  to  deliver  Israel  from  the  Midian- 
ites,  and  yet  he  desired  a  sign  to  convince  him  that  this  commis- 
sion was  from  God.  These,  and  several  the  like  instances  to  be 
found  among  the  prophets  of  old,  are  enough  to  show  that  they 
thought  not  an  inward  seeing  or  persuasion  of  their  own  minds, 
without  any  other  proof,  a  sufficient  evidence  that  it  was  from 
God ;  though  the  Scripture  does  not  every  where  mention  their 
demanding  or  having  such  proofs. 

§  lb"- 
In  what  I  have  said  I  am  far  from  denying  that  God  can  or 
doth  sometimes  enlighten  men's  minds  in  the  apprehending  of 
certain  truths,  or  excite  them  to  good  actions  by  the  immedi- 
ate influence  and  assistance  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  without  any  ex- 
traordinary signs  accompanying  it.  But  in  such  cases,  too,  we 
have  reason  and  Scripture,  unerring  rules  to  know  whether  it  be 
from  God  or  no.  Where  the  truth  embraced  is  consonant  to 
the  revelation  in  the  written  word  of  God,  or  the  action  conform- 
able to  the  dictates  of  right  reason  or  holy-writ,  we  may  be 
assured  that  we  run  no  risk  in  entertaining  it  as  such  ;  because 
though  perhaps  it  be  not  an  immediate  revelation  from  God, 
extraordinarily  operating  on  our  minds,  yet  we  are  sure  it  is 
warranted  by  that  revelation  which  he  has  given  us  of  truth. 
But  it  is  not  the  strength  of  our  private  persuasion  within  our- 
selves that  can  warrant  it  to  be  a  light  or  motion  from  heaven  ; 
nothing  can  do  that  but  the  written  word  of  God  without  us,  or 
that  standard  of  reason  which  is  common  to  us  with  all  men. 
Where  reason  or  scripture  is  express  for  any  opinion  or  action. 


;.il.  XX. J  WRONG  ASSENT,  OR  ERROR.  225 

we  may  receive  it  as  of  divine  authority ;  but  it  is  not  the  strength 
of  our  persuasions  which  can  by  itself  give  it  that  stamp. 
The  bent  of  our  own  minds  may  favour  it  as  much  as  we  please ; 
that  may  show  it  to  be  a  fondling  of  our  own,  but  will  by  no 
means  prove  it  to  be  an  offspring  of  heaven,  and  of  divine  ori- 
ginal. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

OF  WRONG  ASSENT,  OR  ERROR, 

§  1,    CAUSES   OF   ERROR. 

Knowledge  being  to  be  had  only  of  visible  and  certain  truth. 
error  is  not  a  fault  of  our  knowledge,  but  a  mistake  of  our 
judgment,  giving  assent  to  that  which  is  not  true. 

But  if  assent  be  grounded  on  likelihood,  if  the  proper  object 
and  motive  of  our  assent  be  probability,  and  that  probability 
consists  in  what  is  laid  down  in  the  foregoing  chapters,  it  will  be 
demanded  how  men  come  to  give  their  assents  contrary  to  pro- 
bability. For  there  is  nothing  more  common  than  contrariety  of 
opinions  ;  nothing  more  obvious  than  that  one  man  wholly  dis- 
believes what  another  only  doubts  of,  and  a  third  steadfastly 
belieyes  and  firmly  adheres  to.  The  reasons  whereof,  though 
they  may  be  very  various,  yet  I  suppose  may  all  be  reduced  to 
these  four : 

1.  Want  of  proofs. 

2.  Want  of  ability  to  use  them. 

3.  Want  of  will  to  use  them. 

4.  Wrong  measures  of  probability. 

§  2.     1.  WANT   OF   PROOF,-:. 

First,  by  Want  of  proofs,  I  do  not  mean  only  the  want  of 
those  proofs  which  are  nowhere  extant,  and  so  are  nowhere 
to  be  had  ;  but  the  want  even  of  those  proofs  which  are  in 
being,  or  might  be  procured.  And  thus  men  want  proofs  who 
have  not  the  convenience  or  opportunity  to  make  experiments 
and  observations  themselves  tending  to  the  proof  of  any  propo- 
sition ;  nor  likewise  the  convenience  to  inquire  into  and  collect 
the  testimonies  of  others :  and  in  this  state  are  the  greatest  part  of 
mankind,  who  are  given  up  to  labour,  and  enslaved  to  the  neces- 
sity of  their  mean  condition,  whose  lives  are  worn  out  only  in 
the  provisions  for  living.  These  men's  opportunities  of  know- 
ledge and  inquiry  are  commonly  as  narrow  as  their  fortunes  ; 
and  their  understandings  are  but  little  instructed,  when  all  their 
whole  time  and  pains  is  laid  out  to  still  the  croaking  of  their 
own  bellies,   or  the   crirs   of  their  children.     It  is  not  to   In- 


22G  WRONG  ASSENT,  OR  ERROK.  JBOOKIV 

expected  that  a  man,  who  drudges  on  all  his  life  in  a  laborious 
trade,  should  be  more  knowing  in  the  variety  of  things  done  in 
the  world  than  a  pack-horse,  who  is  driven  constantly  forward 
and  backward  in  a  narrow  lane  and  dirty  road  only  to  market, 
should  be  skilled  in  the  geography  of  the  country.  Nor  is  it  at 
all  more  possible,  that  he  who  wants  leisure,  books,  and  lan- 
guages, and  the  opportunity  of  conversing  with  variety  of  men, 
should  be  in  a  condition  to  collect  those  testimonies  and  obser- 
vations which  are  in  being,  and  are  necessary  to  make  out  many, 
nay  most  of  the  propositions  that,  in  the  societies  of  men,  are 
judged  of  the  greatest  moment ;  or  to  find  out  grounds  of  assu- 
rance so  great  as  the  belief  of  the  points  he  would  build  on  them 
is  thought  necessary.  So  that  a  great  part  of  mankind  are,  b) 
the  natural  and  unalterable  state  of  things  in  this  world,  and  the 
constitution  of  human  affairs,  unavoidably  given  over  to  invinci- 
ble ignorance  of  those  proofs  on  which  others  build,  and  which 
are  necessary  to  establish  those  opinions :  the  greatest  part  of 
men,  having  much  to  do  to  get  the  means  of  living,  are  not  in  a 
condition  to  look  after  those  of  learned  and  laborious  inquiries. 

§  3.  OBJ.  WHAT  SHALL  BECOME  OK  THOSE  WHO  WANT  THEM. 
ANSWERED. 

What  shall  we  say  then  ?  Are  the  greatest  part  of  mankind 
by  the  necessity  of  their  condition,  subjected  to  unavoidable 
ignorance  in  those  things  which  are  of  greatest  importance  to 
them  ?  (for  of  these  it  is  obvious  to  inquire.)  Have  the  bulk  of 
mankind  no  other  guide  but  accident  and  blind  chance  to  con- 
duct them  to  their  happiness  or  misery  ?  Are  the  current  opi- 
nions and  licensed  guides  of  every  country  sufficient  evidence 
and  security  to  every  man  to  venture  his  great  concernments  on, 
nay,  his  everlasting  happiness  or  misery  ?  Or  can  those  be  the 
certain  and  infallible  oracles  and  standards  of  truth,  which  teach 
one  thing  in  Christendom  and  another  in  Turkey  ?  Or  shall  a 
poor  countryman  be  eternally  happy  for  having  the  chance  to  be 
born  in  Italy  ;  or  a  day-labourer  be  unavoidably  lost,  because  he 
had  the  ill  luck  to  be  born  in  England  ?  How  ready  some  men  may 
be  to  say  some  of  these  things  I  will  not  here  examine  :  but  this  I 
am  sure,  that  men  must  allow  one  or  other  of  these  to  be  true  (let 
them  choose  which  they  please,)  or  else  grant  that  God  has  fur- 
nished men  with  faculties  sufficient  to  direct  them  in  the  way  they 
should  take,  if  they  will  but  seriously  employ  them  that  way, 
when  their  ordinary  vocations  allow  them  the  leisure.  No  man 
is  so  wholly  taken  up  with  the  attendance  on  the  means  of  living, 
as  to  have  no  spare  time  at  all  to  think  of  his  soul,  and  inform 
himself  in  matters  of  religion.  Were  men  as  intent  upon  this 
as  they  are  on  things  of  lower  concernment,  there  are  none  so 
enslaved  to  the  necessities  of  life  who  might  not  find  many 
vacancies  that  might  be  husbanded  to  this  advantage  of  their 
knmvledare. 


«,H.   XX. J  WaO»G   AS9ENT,  OK  LRIIOK.  IX* 

5   I.    PEOPLE  HINDI  Kin  FROM  INQUIRY. 

Besides  those  whose  impro dements  and  informations  are, 
straitened  by  the  narrowness  of  their  fortunes,  there  are  others 
whose  hugeness  of  fortune  would  plentifully  enough  supply 
books  and  other  requisites  for  clearing  of  doubts  and  discovering 
of  truth  :  but  they  are  cooped  in  close  by  the  laws  of  their 
countries,  and  the  strict  guards  of  those  whose  interest  it  is  to 
keep  them  ignorant,  lest,  knowing  more,  they  should  believe  the 
less  in  them.  These  are  as  far,  nay  farther  from  the  liberty  and 
opportunities  of  a  fair  inquiry,  than  these  poor  and  wretched 
labourers  we  before  spoke  of.  And,  however  they  may  seem 
high  and  great,  are  confined  to  narrowness  of  thought,  and 
enslaved  in  that  which  should  be  the  freest  part  of  man,  their 
understandings.  This  is  generally  the  case  of  all  those  who 
live  in  places  where  care  is  taken  to  propagate  truth  without. 
knowledge  ;  where  men  are  forced,  at  a  venture,  to  be  of  the 
religion  of"  the  country ;  and  must  therefore  swallow  down 
opinions,  as  silly  people  do  empirics'  pills,  without  knowing 
what  they  are  made  of,  or  how  they  will  work,  and  having 
nothing  to  do  but  believe  that  they  will  do  the  cure  :  but  in  this 
are  much  more  miserable  than  they,  in  that  they  are  not  at  liberty 
to  refuse  swallowing  wliat  perhaps  they  had  rather  let  alone  ; 
or  to  choose  the  physician  to  whose  conduct  they  would  trust 
themselves. 

§  5.    2.  WANT  OK   SKII.I,  TO  USE   THEM. 

Secondly,  those  who  want  skill  to  use  those  evidences  they 
have  of  probabilities,  who  cannot  carry  a  train  of  consequences 
in  their  heads,  nor  weigh  exactly  the  preponderancy  of  con- 
trary proofs  and  testimonies,  making  every  circumstance  its  due 
allowance,  may  be  easily  misled  to  assent  to  positions  that  are 
not  probable.  There  are  some  men  of  one,  some  but  of  two 
syllogisms,  and  no  more  ;  and  others  that  can  but  advance  one 
step  farther.  These  cannot  always  discern  that  side  on  which 
the  strongest  proofs  lie  ;  cannot  constantly  follow  that  which  in 
itself  is  the  more  probable  opinion.  Now  that  there  is  such  a 
difference  between  men,  in  respect  of  their  understandings,  1 
think  nobody,  who  has  had  any  conversation  with  his  neigh- 
bours, will  question  ;  though  he  never  was  at  Westminster-hall 
or  the  Exchange,  on  the  one  hand ;  or  at  Almshouses  or 
Bedlam,  on  the  other :  which  great  difference  in-men's  intel- 
lectuals, whether  it  rises  from  any  delect  in  the  organs  of  the 
body,  particularly  adapted  to  thinking;  or,  in  the  dulness  or 
untractableness  of  those  faculties  for  want  of  use  ;  or,  as  some 
think,  in  the  natural  differences  of  men's  souls  themselves  ;  or 
some  or  all  of  these  together,  it  matters  not  here  to  examine  : 
only  this  is  evident,  that  there  is  a  difference  of  degrees  in  men's 
understandings,  apprehensions,  and  reasonings,  to  so  great  a 
latitude,  that  one  may,  without  doing  injury  to  mankind,  affinn. 


228  WRONG  ASSENT,  OH  EEKOil.  [BOOK  IV. 

Tnat  there  is  a  greater  distance  between  some  men  and  others, 
in  this  respect,  than  between  some  men  and  some  beasts.  But 
how  this  comes  about  is  a  speculation,  though  of  great  conse- 
quence, yet  not  necessary  to  our  present  purpose. 

§  6.    3.  WANT  OF  WILL  TO  USE  THEM. 

Thirdly,  there  are  another  sort  of  people  that  want  proofs, 
not  because  they  are  out  of  their  reach,  but  because  they  will 
not  use  them  ;  who,  though  they  have  riches  and  leisure  enough, 
mid  want  neither  parts  nor  other  helps,  are  yet  never  the  better 
for  them.  Their  hot  pursuit  of  pleasure,  or  constant  drudgery 
in  business,  engages  some  men's  thoughts  elsewhere  :  laziness 
and  oscitancy  in  general,  or  a  particular  aversion  for  books, 
study,  and  meditation,  keep  others  from  any  serious  thoughts  at 
all :  and  some  out  of  fear  that  an  impartial  inquiry  would  not 
favour  those  opinions  which  best  suit  their  prejudices,  lives,  and 
designs,  content  themselves,  without  examination,  to  take  upon 
trust  what  they  find  convenient  and  in  fashion.  Thus  most  men, 
even  of  those  that  might  do  otherwise,  pass  their  lives  without 
an  acquaintance  with,  much  less  a  rational  assent  to,  probabili- 
ties they  are  concerned  to  know,  though  they  lie  so  much  within 
their  view,  that  to  be  convinced  of  them  they  need  but  turn 
their  eyes  that  way.  We  know  some  men  will  not  read  a  letter 
which  is  supposed  to  bring  ill  news  ;  and  many  men  forbear  to 
cast  up  their  accounts,  or  so  much  as  think  upon  their  estates, 
who  have  reason  to  fear  their  affairs  are  in  no  very  good  posture. 
How  men,  whose  plentiful  fortunes  allow  them  leisure  to  improve 
their  understandings,  can  satisfy  themselves  with  a  lazy  igno- 
rance, I  cannot  tell :  but  methinks  they  have  a  low  opinion  of 
their  souls,  who  lay  out  all  their  incomes  in  provisions  for  the 
body,  and  employ  none  of  it  to  procure  the  means  and  helps  of 
knowledge  ;  who  take  great  care  to  appear  always  in  a  neat  and 
splendid  outside,  and  would  think  themselves  miserable  in  coarse 
clothes,  or  a  patched  coat,  and  yet  contentedly  suffer  their  minds 
to  appear  abroad  in  a  pie-bald  livery  of  coarse  patches  and  bor- 
rowed shreds,  such  as  it  has  pleased  chance  or  their  country 
tailor  (I  mean  the  common  opinion  of  those  they  have  con- 
versed with)  to  clothe  them  in.  I  will  not  here  mention  how 
unreasonable  this  is  for  men  that  ever  think  of  a  future  state, 
and  their  concernment  in  it,  which  no  rational  man  can  avoid  to 
do  sometimes  ;  nor  shall  I  take  notice  what  a  shame  and  confu- 
sion it  is,  to  the  greatest  contemners  of  knowledge,  to  be  found 
ignorant  in  things  they  are  concerned  to  know.  But  this  at 
least  is  worth  the  consideration  of  those  who  call  themselves 
gentlemen,  that  however  they  may  think  credit,  respect,  power, 
and  authority,  the  concomitants  of  their  birth  and  fortune,  yet 
they  will  find  all  these  still  carried  away  from  them  by  men  of 
lower  condition,  who  surpass  them  in  knowledge.  They  who 
are  blind  will  always  be  led  bv  those  that  see,  or  else  fall  into  the 


\v.  WRONG   ASSEaNT,   OK  ERROR.  Hi) 

difch :  and  he  is  certainly  the  most  subjected,  the  most  enslaved, 
who  is  so  hi  his  understanding.  In  the  foregoing  instances, 
some  of  the  causes  have  be,en  shown  of  wrong  assent,  and  how 
it  comes  to  pass,  that  probable  doctrines  are  not  always  received 
with  an  assent  proportionable  to  the  reasons  which  are  to  be  had 
for  their  probability  :  but  hitherto  we  have  considered  only  such 
probabilities  whose  proofs  do  exist,  but  do  not  appear  to  him 
who  embraces  the  error. 

Ik  ' 

§  7.    4.   WRONG  MEASUIUiS  OF   IT.OBABILITY  ;    WHEIlCOl", 

Fourthly,  there  remains  yet  the  last  sort,  who,  even  where  the 
veal  probabilities  appear,  and  are  plainly  laid  before  them,  do 
not  admit  of  the  conviction,  nor  yield  unto  manifest  reasons, 
but  do  either  izrt%tiv,  suspend  their  assent,  or  give  it  to  the  less 
probable  opinion :  and  to  this  danger  are  those  exposed  who 
have  taken  up  wrong  measures  of  probability  ;  which  are, 

1.  Propositions  that  are  not  in  themselves  certain  and  evident. 
"it  doubtful  and  false,  taken  up  for  principles. 

2.  Received  hypotheses. 

3.  Predominant  passions  or  inclinations. 
1.  Authority. 

§   8.     I.   DOUBTFUL    PKOrOSITIO.N'S  TAKEN   1011   VHJSCIfhl 

First,  the  first  and  firmest  ground  of  probability  is  the  confor- 
mity any  thing  has  to  our  knowledge,  especially  that  part  of  our 
knowledge  which  we  have  embraced,  and  continue  to  look  on 
as  principles.  These  have  so  great  an  influence  upon  our  opi- 
nions, that  it  is  usually  by  them  we  judge  of  truth,  and  measure 
probability  to  that  degree,  that  what  is  inconsistent  with  our  prin- 
ciples is  so  far  "from  passing  for  probable  with  us,  that  it  will  not 
be  allowed  possible.  The  reverence  borne  to  these  principles 
is  so  great,  and  their  authority  so  paramount  to  all  other,  that 
the  testimony  not  only  of  other  men,  but  the  evidence  of  our 
own  senses  are  often  rejected,  when  they  offer  to  vouch  any 
thing  contrary  to  these  established  rules.  How  much  the  doc- 
trine of  innate  principles,  and  that  principles  are  not  to  be  prov- 
ed or  questioned,  has  contributed  to  this,  I  will  not  here  examine. 
This  I  readily  grant,  that  one  truth  cannot  contradict  another  : 
but  withal  I  take  leave  also  to  say,  that  every  one  ought  very 
carefully  to  beware  what  he  admits  for  a  principle,  to  examine  it 
strictly,  and  see  whether  he  certainly  knows  it  to  be  true  of  it- 
self by  its  own  evidence,  or  whether  he  does  only  with  assurance 
believe  it  to  be  so  upon  the  authority  of  others.  For  he  hath  a 
strong  bias  put  into  his  understanding,  which  will  unavoidably 
misguide  his  assent,  who  hath  imbibed  wrong  principles,  and  has 
blindly  given  himself  up  to  the  authority  of  any  opinion  in  itself 
not  evidentlv  true 

VoT     IT  sn 


230  WRONG  ASSliAI,  OK  LKKOJti  [BOOK  W 

§  ?- 

There  is  nothing  more  ordinary  than  children's  receiving  into 
their  minds  propositions  (especially  about  matters  of  religion) 
from  their  parents,  nurses,  or  those  about  them :  which  being 
insinuated  into  their  unwary,  as  well  as  unbiassed  understandings, 
and  fastened  by  degrees,  are  at  last  (equally  whether  true  or 
false)  riveted  there  by  long  custom  and  education,  beyond  ail 
possibility  of  being  pulled  out  again.  For  men,  when  they  are 
grown  up,  reflecting  upon  their  opinions,  and  finding  those  of 
this  sort  to  be  as  ancient  in  their  minds  as  their  very  memories, 
not  having  observed  their  early  insinuation,  nor  by  what  mean? 
they  got  them,  they  are  apt  to  reverence  them  as  sacred  things, 
and  not  to  suffer  them  to  be  profaned,  touched,  or  questioned  ; 
they  look  on  them  as  the  Urim  and  Thummim  set  up  in  their 
minds  immediately  by  God  himself,  to  be  the  great  and  unerring 
deciders  of  truth  and  falsehood,  and  the  judges  to  which  they 
are  to  appeal  in  all  manner  of  controversies. 

§  ^- 
This  opinion  of  his  principles  (let  them  be  what  they  will) 
being  once  established  in  any  one's  mind,  it,  is  easy  to  be  imagined 
what  reception  any  proposition  shall  find,  how'  clearly  soever 
proved,  that  shall  invalidate  their  authority,  or  at  all  thwart  with 
these  internal  oracles  ;  whereas  the  grossest  absurdities  and  im- 
probabilities, being  but  agreeable  to  such  principles,  go  down 
glibly,,  and  are  easily  digested.  The  great  obstinac}-  that  is  to 
be  found  in  men  firmly  believing  quite  contrary  opinions,  though 
many  times  equally  absurd,  in  the  various  religions  of  mankind, 
are  as  evident  a  proof,  as  they  are  an  unavoidable  consequence, 
of  this  way  of  reasoning  from  received  traditional  principles. 
80  that  men  will  disbelieve  their  own  eyes,  renounce  the  evidence 
of  their  senses,  and  give  their  own  experience  the  lie,  rather 
than  admit  of  any  thing  disagreeing  with  these  sacred  tenets. 
Take  an  intelligent  Romanist,  that  from  the  first  dawning  of  any 
notions  in  his  understanding,  hath  had  this  principle  constantly 
inculcated,  viz.  that  he  must  believe  as  the  church  (2.  e.  those  of 
his  communion)  believes,  or  that  the  Pope  is  infallible  ;  and  this 
lie  never  so  much  as  heard  questioned,  till  at  forty  or  fifty  years 
old  he  met  with  one  of  other  principles :  how  is  he  prepared 
easily  to  swallow,  not  only  against  all  probability,  but  even  the 
clear  evidence  of  his  senses,  the  doctrine  of  transubstantiation! 
This  principle  has  such  an  influence  on  his  mind,  that  he  will 
believe  that  to  be  flesh  which  he  sees  to  he  bread.  And  what 
way  will  you  take  to  convince  a  num  of  any  improbable  opinion 
he  holds,  who,  with  some  philosophers,  hath  laid  down  this  as  ;i 
foundation  of  reasoning,  that  he  must  believe  his  reason  (forso 
men  improperly  call  arguments  drawn  from  their  principles) 
nsmnst  bis  senses  ?  Let  an  enthusiast  be  principled,  that  he  or 


■  ];.    \  S  •  ^  RO  m     rVjSEN  1 .   OK    I  R  R.O*|  j.i  I 

ivis  teacher  Is  inspired,  and  acted  by  an  immediate  communica- 
tion of  the  divine  Spirit,  and  you  in  vain  tying  the  evidence  «>i 
•  dear  reasons  against  his  doctrine.  Whoever  therefore  have 
imbibed  wrong  principles,  are  not,  in  things  inconsistent  with 
these  principles,  to  be  moved  by  the  mosl  apparent  and  con- 
vincing probabilities,,  tiil  they  are  so  canilid  and  ingenuous 
to  themselves  as  to  be  persuaded  to  exaijhine  even  those  very 
principles,  which  many  never  suffer  themselves  to  do. 

§   11.    ^..RECEIVED  in  1'OTHr.S!.'-. 

Secondly,  next  to  these  are  men  whose  understandings  up- 
cast into  a  mould,  .".ad  fashioned  just  to  the  size  of  a  received 
hypothesis.  The  difference  between  these  and  the  former  is, 
that  they  will  admit  of  matter  of  fact,  and  agree  with  dissenters 
in  that ;  but  differ  only  in  assigning  of  reasons,  and  explaining 
the  manner  of  operation.  These  are  hot  at  that  ope n  deJiance 
with  their  senses  with  the  former  :  they  can  endure  to  hearken 
Jo  their  information  a  little  more  patiently  ;  but  will  by  no  means 
admit  of  their  reports  in  the  explanation  of  things  ;  nor  bepre- 
\  ailed  on  by  probabilities,  which  would  convince  them  that  things 
are  not  brought  about  just  alter  the  same  manner  that  they  have 
decreed  within  themselves  that  the)  are.  Would  it  not  bean 
insufferable  thing  for  a  learned  professor,  and  that  which  his 
scarlet  would  blush  at,  to  have  his  authority  of  forty  years  stand- 
ing, wrought  out  of  hard  rock  Greek  and  Latin,  with  no  small 
expense  of  time  and  candle,  and  continued  by  general  tradition 
and  a  reverend  beard,  in  an  instant  overturned  by  an  upstart 
novelist  ?  Can  any  one  expect  that  he  should  be  made  to  confess, 
that  what  he  taught  his  scholars  thirty  years  ago  was  all  error 
and  mistake  ;  and  that  he  sold  them  hard  words  and  ignorance 
at  a  very  dear  rate  ?  What  probabilities,  I  say,  are  Sufficient  to 
prevail  in  such  a  case  ?  And  who  ever,  by  the  most  cogent  argu- 
ments, will  be  prevailed  with  to  disrobe  himself  at  once  of  all 
his  old  opinions,  and  pretences  to  knowledge  and  learning,  which 
with  hard  study  he  hath  all  his  time  been  labouring  for ;  and  turn 
himself  out  stark  naked,  in  quest  afresh  of  new  notions  ?  All 
the  arguments  that  can  be  used  will  be  as  little  able  to  prevail, 
as  the  wind  did  with  the  traveller  to  part  with  his  cloak,  which 
lie  held  only  the  taster.  To  this  of  wrong  hypothesis  may  be 
i  educed  the  errors  that  may  be  occasioned  by  a  true  hypothesis. 
or  right  principles,  but  not  rightly  understood.  There  is  nothing 
more  familiar  than  this.  The  instances  of  men  contending  for 
lUfferent  opinions,  which  they  all  derive  from  the  infallible  truth 
of  the  scripture,  are  an  undeniable  proof  of  it.  All  that  call 
themselves  Christians  allow  the: text,  that  sajs,  fwr«iu«rr,  to  carry 
in  it  the  obligation  to  a  very  weighty  duty.  But  yet  how  very 
erroneous  will  one  of  their  practices  be,  who,  understanding 
nothinir  but  the  French,  take  this  rrile  with  one  translation  to  be 


232  WROSG  ASSENT,   OR  ERROR.  [BOOK  IV. 

repentez  vous,  repent ;  or  with  the  other,  faitiez  penitence,  do 
penance  ! 

§  12.  3.  rr.r.noMiNANT  passions. 
Thirdly,  probabilities,  which  cross  men's  appetites  and  pre- 
vailing passions,  run  the  same  fate.  Let  ever  so  much  proba- 
bility hang  on  one  side  of  a  covetous  man's  reasoning,  and 
money  on  the  other  ;  it  is  easy  to  foresee  which  will  outweigh. 
Earthly  minds,  like  mud-walls,  resist  the  strongest  batteries  : 
and  though  perhaps  sometimes  the  force  of  a  clear  argument 
may  make  some  impression,  yet  they  nevertheless  stand  firm, 
and  keep  out  the  enemy,  truth,  that  would  captivate  or  disturb 
them.  Tell  a  man,  passionately  in  love,  that  he  is  jilted  ;  bring 
a  score  of  witnesses  of  the  falsehood  of  his  mistress,  it  is  ten  to 
one  but  three  kind  words  of  hers  shall  invalidate  all  their  testi- 
monies. Quod  volufims,  facile  crcdhnus ;  what  suits  our  wishes 
is  fonvardly  believed  ;  is,  I  suppose,  what  every  one  hath  more 
than  once  experimented  :  and  though  men  cannot  always  openly 
gainsay  or  resist  the  force  of  manifest  probabilities  that  make 
against  them,  yet  yield  they  not  to  the  argument.  Not  but  that  it 
is  the  nature  of  the  understanding  constantly  to  close  with  the 
more  probable  side  ;  but  yet  a  man  hath  a  power  to  suspend  and 
restrain  its  inquiries,  and  not  permit  a  full  and  satisfactory  exa- 
mination, as  far  as  the  matter  in  question  is  capable,  and  will 
bear  it  to  be  made.  Until  that  be  done,  there  will  be  always 
these  two  ways  left  of  evading  the  most  apparent  probabilities. 

§  13.    THE  MEANS  OF  EVADING  PROBABILITIES  t     1.  SUPPOSED  FALLACY. 

First,  that  the  arguments  being  (as  for  the  most  part  they  are) 
brought  in  words,  there  may  be  a  fallacy  latent  in  them  :  and 
the  consequences  being,  perhaps,  many  in  train,  they  may  be 
some  of  them  incoherent.  There  are  very  few  discourses  so 
short,  clear,  and  consistent,  to  which  most  men  may  not,  writh 
satisfaction  enough  to  themselves,  raise  this  doubt ;  and  from 
whose  conviction  they  may  not,  without  reproach  of  disinge- 
nuity  or  unreasonableness,  set  themselves  free  with  the  old  reply, 
non  persuadebis,  etiamsi  persuascris ;  though  I  cannot  answer.  I 
will  not  yield. 

§  14.  2.  SUPPOSED  ARGUMENTS  FOR  THE  CONTRARY. 

Secondly,  manifest  probabilities  may  be  evaded,  and  the  assent 
withheld  upon  this  suggestion,  that  I  know  not  yet  all  that  may 
be  said  on  the  contrary  side.  And  therefore  though  I  be  beaten, 
it  is  not  necessary  1  should  yield,  not  knowing  what  forces  there 
are  in  reserve  behind.  This  is  a  refuge  against  conviction  so 
open  and  so  wide,  that  it  is  hard  to  determine  when  a  man  is 
quite  out  of  the  verge  of  it. 


<-H.\\.  WRONG    kSSENT,  OR  ERROR.  JS5 

<S  15.    WHAT  PROBABILITIES  DETERMINE  THE  ASSENT. 

But  yet  there  is  some  end  of  it ;  and  a  man  having  care- 
fully inquired  into  all  the  grounds  of  probability  and  unlikeliness, 
done  his  utmost  to  inform  himself  in  all  particulars  fairly,  and 
cast  up  the  sum  total  on  both  sides,  may  in  most  cases  come  to 
acknowledge,  upon  the  whole  matter,  on  which  side  the  proba- 
bility rests  ;  wherein  some  proofs  in  matter  of  reason,  being  sup- 
positions upon  universal  experience,  are  so  cogent  and  clear, 
and  some  testimonies  in  matter  of  fact  so  universal,  that  he  can- 
not refuse  his  assent.  So  that,  I  think,  we  may  conclude,  that. 
in  propositions,  where,  though  the  proofs  in  view  are  of  most: 
moment,  yet  there  are  sufficient  grounds  to  suspect  that  there  is 
either  fallacy  in  words,  or  certain  proofs  as  considerable  to  be 
produced  on  the  contrary  side  ;  there  assent,  suspense,  or  dis- 
sent, are  often  voluntary  actions  :  but  where  the  proofs  are  such 
as  make  it  highly  probable,  and  there  is  not  sufficient  ground  to 
suspect  that  there  is  either  fallacy  of  words  (which  sober  and 
serious  consideration  may  discover)  nor  equally  valid  proofs, 
yet  undiscovered,  latent  on  the  other  side  (which  also  the  nature 
of  the  thing  may,  in  some  cases,  make  plain  to  a  considerate 
man  ;)  there,  I  think,  a  man  who  has  wreighed  them,  can  scarce 
refuse  his  assent  to  the  side  on  which  the  greater  probability 
appears.  Whether  it  be  probable  that  a  promiscuous  jumble  of 
printing  letters  should  often  fall  into  a  method  and  order,  which 
should  stamp  on  paper  a  coherent  discourse ;  or  that  a  blind 
fortuitous  concourse  of  atoms,  not  guided  by  an  understanding 
agent,  should  frequently  constitute  the  bodies  of  any  species  of 
animals  :  in  these,  and  the  like  cases,  I  think  nobody  that 
considers  them  can  be  one  jot  at  a  stand  which  side  to  take, 
nor  at  all  waver  in  his  assent.  Lastly,  when  there  can  be  no 
supposition  (the  thing  in  its  own  nature  indifferent,  and  wholly 
depending  upon  the  testimony  of  witnesses)  that  there  is  as  fair 
testimony  against  as  for  the  matter  of  fact  attested ;  which  by 
inquiry  is  to  be  learned,  v.  g.  whether  there  wras  one  thousand 
seven  hundred  years  ago  such  a  man  at  Rome  as  Julius  Caesar  : 
in  all  such  cases,  I  say,  I  think  it  is  not  in  any  rational  man's  power 
to  refuse  his  assent ;  but  that  it  necessarily  follows,  and  closes 
with  sueh  probabilities.  In  other  less  clear  cases,  I  think  it  is 
in  man's  power  to  suspend  his  assent ;  and  perhaps  content 
himself  with  the  proofs  he  has,  if  they  favour  the  opinion  that 
suits  with  his  inclination  or  interest,  and  so  stop  from  farther 
search.  But  that  a  man  should  afford  his  assent  to  that  side  on 
which  the  less  probability  appears  to  him,  seems  to  me  utterly 
impracticable,  and  as  impossible  as  it  is  to  believe  the  same  thing 
probable  and  improbable  at  the  same  time. 

§   10.    WHERE   it  IS  J\   OUM   POWER  TO  SI  SPEND  IT. 

\s   knowledge    is  no  more  arbitrary  than  perception;  so,  I 
think,  assent  is  no  more  in  our  power  than  knowledge.     When 


•2.U  ->\  RUNG   ASSE_\T,   OR  ERROR.  [BOOKlV 

the  agreement  of  any  two  ideas  appears  to  our  minds,  whether 
immediately,  or  by  the  assistance  of  reason,  I  can  no  more  refuse 
to  perceive,  no  more  avoid  knowing  it,  than  I  can  avoid  seeing; 
those  objects  which  I  turn  my  eyes  to,  and  look  on  in  daylight : 
and  what  upon  full  examination  I  find  the  most  probable,  I  can- 
not deny  my  assent  to.  But  though  Ave  cannot  hinder  our 
knowledge,  where  the  agreement  is  once  perceived,  nor  our 
assent,  where  the  probability  manifestly  appears  upon  due  con- 
sideration of  all  the  measures  of  it ;  yet  we  can  hinder  both 
knowledge  and  assent,  by  stopping  our  inquiry,  and  not  employ- 
ing our  faculties  in  the  search  of  any  truth.  If  it  were  not  so. 
ignorance,  error,  or  infidelity  could  not  in  any  case  be  a  fault. 
Thus  in  some  cases  we  can  prevent  or  suspend  our  assent :  but 
can  a  man,  versed  in  modern  or  ancient  history,  doubt  whether- 
there  is  such  a  place  as  Rome,  or  whether  there  was  such  a  man 
as  Julius  Caesar  ?  Indeed,  there  are  millions  of  truths,  that  a  man 
is  not,  or  may  not  think  himself  concerned  to  know  ;  as  whe- 
ther our  king  Richard  the  Third  was  crooked,  or  no  ;  or  whe- 
ther Roger  Bacon  was  a  mathematician,  or  a  magician.  In 
these  and  such  like  cases,  where  the  assent  one  way  or  other  is 
of  no  importance  to  the  interest  of  any  one  ;  no  action,  no  con- 
cernment of  his,  following  or  depending  thereon  ;  there  it  is  not 
strange  thafc  the  mind  should  give  itself  up  to  the  common  opi- 
nion, or  render  itself  to  the  first  comer.  These  and  the  like 
opinions  are  of  so  little  weight  and  moment,  that,  like  motes  in 
the  sun,  their  tendencies  are  very  rarely  taken  notice  of. 
They  are  there,  as  it  were,  by  chance,  and  the  mind  lets  them 
float  at  liberty.  But  where  the  mind  judges  that  the  proposition 
has  concernment  in  it ;  where  the  assent  or  not  assenting  is 
thought  to  draw  consequences  of  moment  after  it,  and  good  and 
evil  to  depend  on  choosing  or  refusing  the  right  side  ;  and  the 
mind  sets  itself  seriously  to  inquire  and  examine  the  probability  ; 
there,  I  think,  it  is  not  in  our  choice  to  take  which  side  we  please, 
if  manifest  odds  appear  on  either.  The  greater  probability,  1 
think,  in  that  case  will  determine  the  assent :  and  a  man  can  no 
more  avoid  assenting,  or  taking  it  to  be  true,  where  he  perceives 
the  greater  probability,  than  he  can  avoid  knowing  it  to  be  true. 
Avhere  he  perceives  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  any  two 
ideas. 

If  this  be  so,  the  foundation  of  error  will  lie  in  wrong  mea- 
sures of  probability  ;  as  the  foundation  of  vice  in  wrong  mea- 
sures of  good. 

§  17.   4.  AUTIIORITV. 

Fourthly,  the  fourth  and  last  wrong  measure  of  probability  1 
shall  take  notice  of,  and  which  keeps  in  ignorance  or  error  more 
people  than  all  the  other  together,  is  that  which  I  mentioned  in 
the  foregoing  chapter  ;  I  mean,  the  giving  up  our  assent  to  the 
'•nmraon   received    opinions,    either  of  our  friends    or   party. 


UH.  XX. J  UK0NC  ASSKAT,  UK  EKKOR.  J,Si> 

neighbourhood  or  country.  How  many  men  have  no  other 
ground  for  their  tenets  than  the  supposed  honesty,  or  learning, 
or  number,  of  those  of  the  same  profession  !  As  if  honest  or 
bookish  men  could  not  err,  or  truth  were  to  be  established  by 
the  vote  of  the  multitude  :  yet  this,  with  most  men,  serves  the 
turn.  The  tenet  has  had  the  attestation  of  reverend  antiquity, 
it  comes  to  me  with  the  passport  of  former  ages,  and  therefore  I 
;im  secure  in  the  reception  1  give  it :  other  men  have  been,  and 
are  of  the  same  opinion  (for  that  is  all  is  said,)  and  therefore  it 
is  reasonable  for  me  to  embrace  it.  A  man  may  more  justifiably 
throw  up  cross  and  pile  for  his  opinions,  than  take  them  up  by 
such  measures.  All  men  are  liable  to~error,  and  most  men  are 
in  many  points,  by  passion  or  interest,  under  temptation  to  it.  If 
\v<-  could  but  see  the  secret  motives  that  influenced  the  men  of 
name  and  learning  in  the  world,  and  the  leaders  of  parties,  we 
should  not  always  find  that  it  was  the  embracing  of  truth  for  its 
own  sake  that  made  them  espouse  the  doctrines  they  owned  and 
maintained.  This  at  least  is  certain,  there  is  not  an  opinion  so 
absurd,  which  a  man  may  not  receive  upon  this  ground.  There 
is  no  error  to  be  named,  which  has  not  had  its  professors  :  and 
a  man  shall  never  want  crocked  paths  to  walk  in,  if  he  thinks 
that  he  is  in  the  right  way,  wherever  he  has  the  footsteps  of 
others  to  follow. 

(-i  10.  MF.N  NOT  IN  SO  MANY  LUROR3  AS  IMAGINED. 

But  notwithstanding  the  great  noise  is  made  in  the  world  abom 
errors  and  opinions,  1  must  do  mankind  that  right  as  to  say  there 
are  not  so  many  men  in  errors  and  wrong  opinions  as  is  com- 
monly supposed.  Not  that  I  think  they  embrace  the  truth  ;  but, 
indeed,  because  concerning  those  doctrines  they  keep  such  a  stir 
about,  they  have  no  thought,  no  opinion  at  all.  For  if  any  one 
should  a  little  catechise  the  greatest  part  of  the  partisans  of 
most  of  the  sects  in  the  world,  he  would  not  lind,  concerning 
those  matters  they  are  so  zealous  for,  that  they  have  any  opinions 
of  their  own  :  much  less  would  he  have  reason  to  think,  that, 
they  took  them  upon  the  examination  of  arguments,  and  appear- 
ance of  probability.  They  are  resolved  to  stick  to  a  party,  that 
education  or  interest  has  engaged  them  in ;  and  there,  like  the 
common  soldiers  of  an  army,  show  their  courage  and  warmth  as 
their  leaders  direct,  without  ever  examining,  or  so  much  as 
knowing  the  cause  they  contend  for.  If  a  man's  life  shows  that. 
he  has  no  serious  regard  for  religion,  for  what  reason  should  we 
think  that  he  beats  bis  head  about  the  opinions  of  his  church, 
and  troubles  himself  to  examine  the  grounds  of  this  or  that  doe- 
rriae  ?  It  is  enough  for  him  to  obey  his  leaders,  to  have  his  hand 
and  his  tongue  veao'y  tor  the  support  of  the  common  pause,  and 
thereby  approve  himself  to  those  who  can  give  him  credit,  pre- 
ferment, or  protection  in  that  society.  Thus  men  become  pro- 
d's of,  arid  combatants  for,  those  opinions  they  were  nevei 


23t>  DIVISION  OK  THE  SCIENCES.  [kOOK  IT 

convinced  of,  nor  proselytes  to  ;  no,  nor  ever  had  so  much  as 
floating  in  their  heads  :  and  though  one  cannot  say,  there  are 
fewer  improbable  or  erroneous  opinions  in  the  world  than  there 
are ;  yet  it  is  certain,  there  are  fewer  that  actually  assent  to  them, 
and  mistake  them  for  truth,  than  is  imagined. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

OF  THE  DIVISION  OF  THE  SCIENCES 

§  1.    THREE  SORTS. 

All  that  can  fall  within  the  compass  of  human  understanding' 
being  either,  first,  the  nature  of  things,  as  they  are  in  themselves, 
their  relations,  and  their  manner  of  operation :  or,  secondly, 
that  which  man  himself  ought  to  do,  as  a  rational  and  voluntary 
agent,  for  the  attainment  of  any  end,  especially  happiness  :  or, 
thirdly,  the  ways  and  means  whereby  the  knowledge  of  both  the 
one  and  the  other  of  these  is  attained  and  communicated :  I 
think  science  may  be  divided  properly  into  these  three  sorts. 

§2.    1 .  PHYSICA. 

First,  the  knowledge  of  things,  as  they  are  in  their  own  pro- 
per beings,  their  constitution,  properties,  and  operations ;  where- 
by I  mean  not  only  matter  and  body,  but  spirits  also,  which  have 
their  proper  natures,  constitutions,  and  operations,  as  well  as 
bodies.  This,  in  a  little  more  enlarged  sense  of  the  word,  I 
call  *»o-«nj;  or  natural  philosophy.  The  end  of  this  is  bare  specu- 
lative truth ;  and  whatsoever  can  afford  the  mind  of  man  any 
such,  falls  under  this  branch,  whether  it  be  God  himself,  angels, 
spirits,  bodies,  or  any  of  their  affections,  as  number,  and  figure, 
etc. 

§  3.    2.  PRACTICA. 

•Secondly,  np^rty.n,  the  skill  of  right  applying  our  own  pow- 
ers and  actions  for  the  attainment  of  things  good  and  useful. 
The  most  considerable  under  this  head  is  ethics,  which  is  the 
seeking  out  those  rules  and  measures  of  human  actions  which 
lead  to  happiness,  and  the  means  to  practise  them.  The  end  of 
this  is  not  bare  speculation,  and  the  knowledge  of  truth ;  but 
right,  and  a  conduct  suitable  to  it. 

§  4.   3.  "Z'^nuTiy-yi. 
Thirdly,  the  third  branch  may  be  called  t^Ut»iiti^,  or  the  doc- 
trine of  signs,  the  most  usual  whereof  being  words,  it  is  aptly 
enough   termed  also  Aoyiy.y,  logic  ;  the  business  whereof  is  to 
consider  the  nature  of  sisrns  thp  mind  makes  use  of  for  +h* 


II     XXI. J  UiVlsIG.N   OF  tHE  SCIENCES.  237 

understanding  of  things,  or  convoying  its  knowledge  to  others. 
For  since  the  things  the  mind  contemplates  are  none  of  them, 
besides  itself,  present  to  the  understanding,  it  is  necessary  that 
something  else,  as  a  sign  or  representation  of  the  thing  it  con- 
siders, should  be  present  to  it  :  and  these  are  ideas.  And 
because  the  scene  of  ideas  that  makes  one  man's  thoughts,  can- 
not be  laid  open  to  the  immediate  view  of  another,  nor  laid  up 
any  where  but  in  the  memory,  a  no  very  sure  repository  ;  there- 
fore to  communicate  our  thoughts  to  one  another,  as  well  as 
record  them  for  our  own  use,  signs  of  our  ideas  are  also  neces- 
sary. Those  which  men  have  found  most  convenient,  and 
therefore  general:)"  make  use  of,  are  articulate  sounds.  The 
consideration  then  of  ideas  and  words,  as  the  great  instruments 
of  knowledge,  makes  no  despicable  part  of  their  contemplation 
who  would  take  a  view  of  human  knowledge  in  the  whole 
extent  of  it.  And  perhaps  if  they  were  distinctly  weighed,  and 
duly  considered,  they  would  afford  us  another  sort  of  logic  and 
critic  than  what  we  have  been  hitherto  acquainted  with. 

5.    THIS  IS  THE  FIRST  DIVISION  OF  THE  OBJECTS  OF   KNOWLEDGE. 

This  seems  to  me  the  first  and  most  general,  as  well  as  natural 
division  of  the  objects  of  our  understanding.  For  a  man  can 
employ  his  thoughts  about  nothing,  but  either  the  contemplation 
of  things  themselves  for  the  discovery  of  truth  ;  or  about  the 
things  in  his  own  power,  which  are  his  own  actions,  for  the 
attainment  of  his  own  ends  ;  or  the  signs  the  mind  makes  use  of 
both  in  the  one  and  the  other,  and  the  right  ordering  of  them  for 
its  clearer  information.  All  which  three,  viz.  thing9  as  they  are 
in  themselves  knowable  ;  actions  as  they  depend  on  us,  in  order 
to  happiness  ;  and  the  right  use  of  signs,  in  order  to  knowledge, 
being  toto  cculo  dilferent,  they  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  three  great 
provinces  of  the  intellectual  world,  wholly  separate  and  distinct 
one  from  another. 


Voi,  II  il 


DEFENCE 


OF 


VIR.  LOCKE'S  OPINION 


CONCERNING 


PERSONAL  IDENTITY, 


DEEEtfCE  OF  MR.  LOCKE'S  OPINION 

CONCERNING 

PERSONAL  IDENTITY. 


The  candid  author  oi'  the  late  Essay  upon  Personal  Identitv 
cannot  justly  be  offended  with  any  attempt  to  explain  and  vindi- 
cate Mr.  Locke's  hypothesis,  if  it  is  carried  on  in  the  same  spirit. 
though  it  should  be  attended  with  the  overthrow  of  some  of  his 
own  favourite  notions  ;  since  he  owns  that  it  is  of  consequence 
to  form  right  opinions  on#this  point  :  which  was  indeed  once 
deemed  an  important  one,  how  little  soever  such  may  be  regard- 
ed now-a-days.  I  shall  proceed,  therefore,  without  farther 
apology,  to  settle  the  terms  of  this  question,  and  endeavour  to 
state  it  so  as  to  bring  matters  to  a  short  and  clear  determination. 

Now  the  word  person,  as  is  well  observed  by  Mr.  Locke  (the 
distinguishing  excellence  of  whose  writings  consists  in  sticking 
elose  to  the  point  in  hand,  and  striking  out  all  foreign  and  im- 
pertinent considerations)  is  properly  a  forensic  term,  and  here 
to  be  used  in  the  strict  forensic  sense,  denoting  some  such  qua- 
lity or  modification  in  man  as  denominates  him  a  moral  agent,  or 
an  accountable  creature  ;  renders  him  the  proper  subject  of  laws, 
and  a  true  object  of  rewards  or  punishments.  When  Ave  applv 
it  to  any  man,  we  do  not  treat  of  him  absolutely,  and  in  gross  ; 
but  under  a  particular  relation  or  precision  :  we  do  not  compre- 
hend or  concern  ourselves  about  the  several  inherent  properties 
which  accompany  him  in  real  existence,  which  go  to  the  making 
up  the  whole  complex  notion  of  an  active  and  intelligent  being  ; 
but  arbitrarily  abstract  one  single  quality  or  mode  from  all  the. 
rest,  and  view  him  under  that  distinct  precision  only  which  points 
out  the  idea  above  mentioned,  exclusive  Of  every  other  idea  that 
may  belong  to  him  in  any  other  view,  either  as  substance,  qualin . 
op  mode.  Anil  therefore  the  consideration  of  this  same  quality, 
or  qualification,  will  not  be  altered  by  any  others  of  which  he 
be  possessed  ;  but  remains  the  same  whatever  he  shall  con- 
sist of  besides:  whether  his  soul  be  a  material  or  immaterial 
substance,  or  no  substance  ;it  all,  as  may  appear  from  examining 


242  \  DEFENCE    OF  MR.   LOCKE:S  OPINION 

the  import  of  these  pronouns,  I,  thou,  he,  &c.  [the  grammatical 
meaning  of  such  words  generally  pointing  out  the  true  origin  ot 
our  ideas  primarily  annexed  to  them]  which  both  in  their  original 
sense  and  common  acceptation  are  purely  personal  terms,  and  as 
such  lead  to  no  farther  consideration  either  of  soul  or  body ; 
nay,  sometimes  are  distinguished  from  both,  as  in  the  following  line. 

Linquebant  dulces  animas,  aut  aegra  trahebant. 
Corpora.* 

An  inquiry  after  the  identity  of  such  person  will  be,  whether  at. 
different  times  he  is,  or  how  he  can  be,  and  know  himself  to  be 
the  same  in  that  respect,  or  equally  subjected  to  the  very  same 
relations  and  consequent  obligations  which  he  was  under  former- 
ly, and  in  which  he  still  perceives  himself  to  be  involved,  when- 
ever he  reflects  upon  himself  and  them.  This  we  shall  find  to 
consist  in  nothing  more  than  his  becoming  sensible  at  different 
times  of  what  he  had  thought  or  done  before ;  and  being  as  fully 
convinced  that  he  then  thought  or  did  it,  as  he  now  is  of  his 
present  thoughts,  acts,  or  existence. 

Beyond  this  we  neither  can  nor  need  go  for  evidence  in  any 
thing ;  this,  we  shall  soon  see,  is  the  clear  and  only  medium 
through  which  distant  things  can  be  discovered  and  compared 
together ;  which  at  the  same  time  sufficiently  ascertains  and 
establishes  their  several  natures  and  realities  respectively,  so  far 
as  they  relate  to  ourselves  and  to  each  other  :  or  if  this  should  not 
be  esteemed  sufficient  to  that  end,  we  shall  find,  in  the  last  place, 
that  there  is  nothing  else  left  for  it.  This  distinct  conscious- 
ness of  our  past  actions,  from  whence  arise  all  the  ideas  of  merit 
and  demerit,  will  most  undoubtedly  be  regarded  with  the  strict- 
est exactness  in  foro  divino  ;  and  indeed  has  its  due  weight 
in  foro  humano,  whenever  it  can  be  with  certainty  determined : 
wherever  this  appears  to  be  wanting,  all  judicial  proceedings 
are  at  an  end.  How  plain  soever  any  criminal  act  were,  the 
man  would  now-a-days  be  acquitted  from  guilt  in  the  com- 
mission of  it,  and  discharged  from  the  penalties  annexed  to 
such  fact,  could  it  at  the  same  time  be  as  plainly  made  out,  that 
he  was  incapable  of  knowing  what  he  did,  or  is  now  under  a 
like  incapacity  of  recollecting  it.  And  it  would  be  held  a  suffi- 
cient reason  for  such  acquittal,  that  the  punishment,  or  prose- 
cution of  a  creature  in  these  circumstances,  could  not  answer 
the  end  proposed  by  society  in  punishment,  viz.  the  prevention 
of  evil,  the  only  end  that  I  know  of,  which  can  justify  punish- 
ments in  any  case.  The  reason  then  why  such  a  plea  has 
usually  so  small  regard  paid  to  it  in  courts  of  justice,  is,  I  appre- 
hend, either  the  difficulty  of  having  this  incapacity  proved  with 
the  same  clearness  that  the  fact  itself  is  established :  or  the 

*.  Pee  Lorke  on  1  Cor.  xv.  53. 


CONCERNING  PERSONAL  IDLNTITI,  243 

Common  maxim  that  one  crime,  or  criminal  indisposition,  is 
not  admissible  in  excuse  for  unother ;  as  in  cases  of  drunken- 
ness, violent  passion,  killing  or  maiming  men  by  mistake  when 
one  is  engaged  in  an  unlawful  pursuit,  &c.  Or  in  some  oi' 
these  cases  perhaps  men  are  punished  for  the  murders,  &c.  not 
because  they  possibly  may  be  conscious  of  them,  and  yet  that 
consciousness  not  appear ;  but  that  such  evils  may  be  more 
effectually  prevented  by  striking  at  the  remoter  cause,  i.  e. 
exciting  a  salutary  terror  of  those  confessedly  evil  practices 
and  habits,  which  are  often  found  to  terminate  in  such  fatal 
effects.  A  kind  of  injustice  is  here  indeed  committed  by  society, 
which  we  have  no  reason  to  suppose  will  be  admitted  in  foro 
divino,  and  some  worse  instances  may  be  seen  in  our  statute 
books.  By  the  23  of  Hen.  8,  a  man  becoming  lunatic  after  an 
act  of  treason  shall  be  liable  to  be  arraigned,  tried,  and  execu- 
ted. But  Hale*  in  his  P.C.  says,  That  if  a  traitor  becomes  non 
rompos  before  conviction,  he  shall  not  be  arraigned ;  if  after 
conviction;  he  shall  not  be  executed  :  and  Hawkinsf  observes 
the  same  concerning  those  who  have  committed  any  capital 
offences. 

In  human  courts,  which  cannot  always  dive  into  the  hearts  of 
men  and  discover  the  true  springs  of  action,  nor  consequently 
weigh  the  effects  and  operations  of  each  in  an  equal  balance  ; 
in  this  state  of  ignorance  and  uncertainty,  such  a  notorious 
indisposition  as  that  of  drunkenness ;  v.  g.  being  generally  a 
great  fault  in  itself,  is  seldom  allowed  in  extenuation  of  »such 
others  as  are  committed  under  its  influence  ;  nor  indeed  does 
it,  I  believe,  often  produce  any  new,  materially  different  trains 
ot'  thinking,  or  totally  obliterate  the  old  ones  ;  but  where  this 
is  really  so,  the  Deity  would  make  just  abatement  for  such  de- 
fect or  disability,  as  was  at  the  time  both  unconquerable  and 
unavoidable  ;  nor  can  we  properly  impute  actions  consequent 
upon  any  real  disorder  of  the  rational  faculties,  howsoever  that 
disorder  might  have  been  contracted  ;  and  therefore  all  animad- 
versions upon  them  must  be  in  vain  :  nor  is  a  man  punishable 
for  any  thing  beside  the  bare  act  of  contracting  such  disorder, 
or  for  the  original  cause  of  this  disability,  how  great  or  durable 
soever  ;  the  dangerous  consequences  of  which  he  did,  or  might 
foresee.  As  is  the  case  in  some  other  confirmed  habits,  viz. 
that  of  swearing,  &c.  which  often  operate  mechanically  and 
unperceived,  and  in  which  therefore  all  the  moral  turpitude  (or 
what  is  so  accounted)  arising  from  them,  never  can  reach  beyond 
the  fountain-head  from  whence  they  are  derived,  and  from  which 
all  the  effects  of  them  naturally,  and  even  necessarily  flow.  We 
must  therefore  conclude  in  general,  that  a  person's  guilt  is  esti- 
mated according  to  his  past  and  present  consciousness  of  the. 
offence,  and  of  his  having -been  the  author  of  it.     Nor  is  it 

*  Hole,  P.  C:  10-  t  Ilirwk.r  C 


J44  A  DEFENCE  OF  MR.  LOCKE'S  OPINION 

merely  his  having  forgotten  the  thing,  but  his  having  so  far  lost 
the  notion  of  it  out  of  his  mind,  that  how  frequently  soever,  or 
in  what  forcible  manner  soever,  it  may  be  presented  to  him  again, 
he  lies  under  an  utter  incapacity  of  becoming  sensible  and  satis- 
fied that  he  was  ever  privy  to  it  before,  which  is  affirmed  to 
render  this  thing  really  none  of  his,  or  wholly  exculpate  him 
when  called  to  answer  for  it.  Suppose  this  same  consciousness 
to  return,  his  accountableness  (call  it  personality,  or  what  you 
please)  will  return  along  with  it:  that  is,  the  infliction  of  evil 
upon  him  will  now  answer  some  purpose,  and  therefore  he  must 
be  considered  as  now  liable  to  it.  Thus  some  wholly  lose  the 
use  of  their  intellectual  faculties  for  a  time,  and  recover  them 
at  intervals.  In  such  cases  they  are  considered  as  punishable 
by  laws,  and  so  declared  by  juries,  in  proportion  to  the  proba- 
bility of  their  being  conscious  of  the  fact.  Others  lie  under  a 
partial  deprivation  of  some  one  faculty  for  certain  periods,  while 
they  continue  to  enjoy  the  rest  in  tolerable  perfection.  I  knew 
a  learned  man,  who  was  said  to  recollect  with  ease  subjects  upon 
which  he  had  written,  or  any  others  that  had  been  discussed 
before  the  last  ten  or  fifteen  years  ;  could  reason  freely,  and 
readily  turn  to  the  authors  he  had  read  upon  them ;  but  take 
him  into  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  and  all  was  blank  ;  when  any 
late  incidents  were  repeated  to  him,  he  would  only  stare  at  you, 
nor  could  he  be  made  sensible  of  any  one  modern  occurrence, 
however  strongly  represented  to  him.  Was  this  man  equally 
answerable  for  all  transactions  within  the  last  period  of  his  life, 
as  for  those  in  the  first  ?  Or  if  he  could  have  been  made  sensible 
of  the  latter  part,  but  had  irrecoverably  lost  the  former ;  could 
that  former  part  have  been  in  like  manner  imputed  to  him  ? 
Surely  not.  And  the  reason  plainly  is,  because  society  could 
find  no  advantage  from  considering  him  as  accountable  in  either 
case.  Which  shows  personality  to  be  solely  a  creature  of  socie- 
ty, an  abstract  consideration  of  man,  necessary  for  the  mutual 
benefit  of  him  and  his  fellows  ;  i  e.  a  mere  forensic  term ;  and 
to  inquire  after  its  criterion  or  constituent,  is  to  inquire  in  what 
circumstances  societies  or  civil  combinations  of  men  have  in  fact 
agreed  to  inflict  evil  upon  individuals,  in  order  to  prevent  evils 
to  the  whole  body  from  any  irregular  member.  Daily  experi- 
ence shows,  that  they  always  make  consciousness  of  the  fact  a 
necessary  requisite  in  such  punishment,  and  that  all  inquiry 
relates  to  the  probability  of  such  consciousness.  The  execu- 
tion of  divine  justice  must  proceed  in  the  same  manner.  The 
Deity  inflicts  evil  with  a  settled  view  to  some  end  ;  and  no  end 
worthy  of  him  can  be  answered  by  inflicting  it  as  a  punishment, 
unless  to  prevent  other  evils.  Such  end  may  be  answered,  it 
the  patient  is  conscious,  or  can  be  made  conscious  of  the  fact, 
but  not  otherwise.  And  whence  then  does  this  difference  in  any 
one's  moral  capacity  arise,  but  from  that  plain  diversity  in  his 
natural  one  ?  from  his  absolute  irretrievable  want  of  conscious. 


.  n>.  J.K'Vl.M.    PfcKSO  .-.1-   LDUKTITJf.  145 

oess  ai  ©ne  case,  and  not  in  the  other  ?  Suppose  now  lhat  one 
in  the  former  condition  kills  a  man ;  that  be,  or  some  part  of 
what  we  call  him,  was  ever  so  notoriously  the  instrument  or 
occasion  of  that  death  ;  yet  if  he  was  either  then  insensible  of 
the  fact,  or  afterward  became  so,  and  so  continued  :  would  he 
be  anymore  guilty  of  murder,  than  if  that  death  had  been  occa- 
sioned by  another  person  ?  since  at  that  time  he  was  truly  such, 
or  at  least  is  so  now,  notwithstanding  that  most  people  might  be 
apt  to  judge  him  still  the  same,  from  a  sameness  in  outward 
circumstances,  (which  generally  supply  the  best  means  men  have 
0$  judging)  from  his  shape,  mein,  or  appearance  ;  though  these 
often  differ  widely  from  the  internal  constitution,  yet  are  as  often 
mistaken  for  it ;  and  this  accordingly  thought  and  spoke  of  with 
little  more  philosophical  propriety  than  when  we,  in  the  vulgar 
phrase,  describe  a  man's  condition  by  saying,  We  would  not  be 
in  his  coat. 

Suppose  one  then  in  the  situation  above  mentioned  ;  could 
any  pains,  think  you,  inflicted  on  him  suit  the  idea,  or  answer 
the  ends  of  punishment,  either  with  regard  to  himself,  or  others, 
farther  than  mere  show  and  delusion?  Rewards  and  punish- 
ments are  evidently  instituted  for  the  benefit  of  society,  for  the 
encouragement  of  virtue,  or  suppression  of  vice,  in  the  object, 
thus  rewarded  or  punished,  and  in  the  rest  of  the  community  ; 
but  what  tendency  to  the  above  purposes  can  either  of  these 
have,  if  dispensed  to. one  who  is  not  so  far  himself  as  to  become 
conscious  of  having  done  any  thing  to  deserve  it  ?  What  instruc- 
tion is  conveyed  to  him  ?  What  admonition  to  such  others  a* 
are  duly  acquainted  with  the  whole  of  the  case,  and  see  every 
circumstance  thus  grossly  misapplied?  And  as  in  these  case's 
laws  only  can  define  the  circumstances  in  which  a  man  shall  be 
I  reated  as  accountable,  they  only  can  create  guilt,  ?',  e.  guilt,  also 
is  a  forensic  term,  or  a  mode  of  considering  any  action,  which 
in  its  essence  implies  knowledge  of  a  law,  offence  against  that 
law,  and  a  sense  of  having  offended  against  it  ;  i.  e.  an  after- 
consciousness  of  the  fact ;  without  which  after-consciousness, 
punishment  would  be  of  little  avail,  as  it  would  neither  serve  to 
guard  the  man  himself  against  a  like  delinquency,  nor  tend  to 
i  he  warning  of  others,  who  by  such  inflictions  would  openly  per- 
ceive that  they  might  chance  to  suffer  pain,  without  being  able 
i  assign  a  reason  for  it. — Thus  may  personality  be  extended  or 
contracted,  and  vary  in  various  respects,  times,  and  degrees, 
and  thereby  become  liable  to  great  confusion,  in  our  applying  ir. 
to  various  subjects  ;  yet  is  the  ground  and  foundation  of  it  fixed ; 
and  when  once  discovered,  its  consequences  are  not  less  so, 
both  before  God  and  man. 

Abstract,  general  ideas  (of  which  this  is  an  eminent  one)  arc 
alone  productive  of  certain,  uniform,  and  universal  knowledge. 
Thus  qualities  of  a  certain  kind,  when  abstracted,  or  taken  apart; 
from  nature,  and  set  up  for  common  standards,  are  so  far  iade- 

VoL.   II.  ^ 


24ti  A  DEFENCE  OF  MR.   LOCKE S  OPINION 

pendent  as  to  become  absolute,  unmixed,  or  perfect  in  them- 
selves,* however  different  they  may  be  found  in  their  respective 
concretes.  Thus  goodness,  justice,  guilt,  merit,  &c.  in  general, 
are  ever  the  same  goodness,  &c.  all  the  world  over,  however 
imperfectly  they  may  appear  in  any  particular  subjects,  times, 
and  places.  In  the  same  manner  as  a  line,  or  the  abstract  con- 
sideration of  length  without  thickness  or  breadth  ;  the  conside- 
ration of  surface,  i.  e.  length  and  breadth  without  thickness, 
must  be  the  same,  in  all  intelligent  beings  of  like  faculties  with 
us,  though  the  natural  substances  which  suggest  them  may  differ 
with  an  endless  variety.  Let  personality  answer  to  a  line  or 
surface  ;  let  the  substances  it  is  predicated  of,  like  the  infinite 
variety  of  solids  in  nature,  (with  their  appendages,  heat,  cold, 
colour,  &c.)  in  which  length  and  breadth  are  found,  vary  as  you 
please  ;  still  the  abstract  ideas  of  line  and  surface,  and  there- 
fore of  person,  will  remain  invariable.  And  thus  propositions 
formed  out  of  these  general  ideas  contain  certain  truths,  that 
are  in  one  sense  eternal  and  immutable,  as  depending  on  no  pre- 
carious existences  whatever.  Being  merely  what  we  ourselves 
make  them,  they  must  continue  the  same  while  the  same  number 
of  such  ideas  continue  joined  together,  and  appear  the  same  to 
every  intelligent  being  that  contemplates  them.f  They  do  not 
stand  in  need  (I  say)  of  an  objective  reality,  or  the  existence, 
of  any  external  things  in  full  conformity  to  them,  since  we  here 
consider  things  no  farther  than  as  coming  up  to  these  original 
standards,  settled  in  the  minds  of  men  ;  or  as  capable  of  being 
included  in  such  measures  as  are  applied  to  determine  their  pre- 
cise quantity,  quality,  &c.  we  are  ranking  them  under  a  certain 
specie-  or  son,  hence  called  their  essence,  which  entitles  them 
to  the  name  descriptive  of  it,  as  is  sufficiently  explained  by  Mr. 
Locke.  They  want  therefore  nothing  more  to  establish  their 
reality,  than  to  be  consistently  put  together,  so  as  may  distin- 
guish them  from  others  that  are  merely  chimerical,  and  qualify 
them  for  the  admission  of  any  real  beings  that  may  occur. 
Thus,  not  only  the  instance  of  a  triangle  so  frequently  used  by 
Mr.  Locke,  but  every  theorem  in  Euclid,  may  be  ranked  among 
the  abstract  considerations  of  quantity,  apart  from  all  real 
existence,  which  seldom  comes  up  to  it :  as  it  may  be  justly 
questioned  whether  any  triangle  or  circle,  as  defined  by  him,  ever 
existed  in  nature,  i.  e.  existed  so  that  all  the  lines  of  the  triangle 
were  right  ones,  or  all  the  lines  drawn  from  the  centre  to  the 
circumference  equal.  These  ideas  presuppose]:  no  one  being  in 
particular,  they  imply  nothing  more  than  a  proper  subject  of 
inquiry  (as  was  said  above)  or  some  such  creature  as  is  either 
illy  endoAved  with,  or  at  least  susceptible  of,  these  specific 


Note  It)  i<>  King's  Origin  of  Evil, Rem.  t. 
t  See  the  first  note  to  A.  B.  King's  Origin  of  E^ 
t  V"  V;  Bn.  Butler^  Di«.  on  Personal  I  !<    I 


CONCERNING   PERSONAL  IDENTlTV.  14  7 

Qualities,  or  modes,  which  furnish,  matter  for  the  whole  tribe  of 
abstractions  daily  made,  and  preserved  by  such  terms  as  usual!} 
serve  to  denote  them  ;  whether  appellatives,  in  order  to  distill 
guish  men  in  their  several  stations  and  relations,  private  or  pub 
lie ;  to  describe  their  character  or  conduct,  office,  &c.  as  parent 
patriot,  king,  &c.  or  such  more  general,  technical  ones,  as  pa 
ternity,  patriotism,  kingship,  &c.  the  nature,  end,  and  use,  <> 
all  which  abstractions,  with  their  names,  are  well  enough  under 
stood,  and  would  not  easily  be  mistaken  \n  affairs  of  common 
life,  which  are  happily  less  liable  to  such  kind  of  subtile  refine- 
ments,  as  have  brought  metaphysical  speculations  into  that  con 
tempt  under  which  they  have  long  laboured.     In  short,  of  these 
same   abstractions  consist   all  general  terms  and  theorems  o 
every  science  ;  and  the  truth  and  certainty  contained  in  *hem, 
when  applied  to  morals  or  theology,  is  no  less  determinate  than 
in  other  sciences  ;  it  is  equally  capable  of  strict  demonstration, 
as  Mr.  Locke  observes,  and  equally  applicable  to  full  as  useful 
and  important  purposes.       The  great  general  truths,  I  say, 
arising  out  of  these  general  essences,  or  entities,   (as  they  are 
sometimes  called)  are  all  clear,  constant,  and  invariable  in  them- 
selves, though  the  names  in  which  such  a  collection  of  ideas 
should  be  preserved  are  often,  through  the  poverty  and  imper- 
fection of  language,  rendered  extremely  vague  and  uncertain  in 
each  writer  or  speaker,  and  the  ideas  formed  by  them  in  other 
men's  minds  (which  are  their  proper  archetypes,  and  a  confor- 
mity to  which  alone  makes  them  right  or  wrong,  truly  or  untruly 
applied)  thereby  become  no  less  frequently  confused  and  inde- 
terminate.    Thus,  in  the   case  before  us,  the  word  person  is 
often  used  to  signify  the  whole  aggregate  of  a  rational  being. 
including  both  the  very  imperfect  idea,  if  it  be  any  idea  at  all, 
of  substance,  and  its  several  properties,  [as  is  the  common  way] 
or  taking  all  the  essential  qualities  together,  [which  properly 
constitute  the  substance  of  any  thing*]  with  several  of  their 
modes.     As  when  speaking  of  any  one,  we  include  soul,  body, 
station,  and   other  circumstances,  and  accordingly  style  him  a 
wise,  worthy  person ;  a  tall,  comely ;  a  rich,  great  one,  &c. 
where  person  in  a  lax,  popular  sense  signifies  as  much  as  man. 
In  which  popular  sense   Mr.  Locke  manifestly  takes  the  word, 
when  he  says,  it  "  stands  for  a  thinking  intelligent  being,  that 
has  reason  and  reflection,  and  can  consider  itself  as  itself,  the 
same  thinking  being,  in  different  times  and  places.-'  B.  2.  c.  27. 
§  9.     But  when  the  term  is  used  more  accurately  and  philoso- 
phically, it  stands  for  one  especial  property  of  that  thing  or 
being,  separated  from  all  the  rest  that  do  or  may  attend  it  in 
real  existence,  and  set  apart  for  ranging  such  beings  into  dis- 
tinct classes,  (as  hinted  above)  and  considering  them  under  dis- 
tinct relations  and  connexions,  which  are  no  less  necessarv  to 

5e«  the  first  note  to  Kinr-;'"'l  the  authors  theYG  rite1 


248  A  DEFENCE  OF  MR.  LOCKLS  Ol'lMO.N 

be  determined  in  life,  and  which  should  therefore  have  then 
proper  and  peculiar  denomination.  And  thus  sameness  of  per- 
son stands  to  denote,  not  what  constitutes  the  same  rational 
agent,  though  it  ahvays  is  predicated  of  such  ;  but  we  consider 
his  rationality  so  far  only,  as  it  makes  him  capable  of  knowing 
what  he  does  and  suffers,  and  on  what  account,  and  thereby 
renders  him  amenable  to  justice  for  his  behaviour,  as  above 
mentioned. 

Whatever  ingredients  therefore  of  different  kinds  go  to  the 
composition,  what  other  particulars,  whether  mental  or  corpo- 
real, contribute  to  the  formation  of  this  intelligent  being,  these 
make  no  part  of  our  inquiry  ;  which,  I  beg  leave  to  repeat  it 
again,  is  not  what  enters  into  the  natural  constitution  of  a  thing, 
but  what  renders  it  so  far  a  moral  one,  and  is  the  sine  qu)  hon 
of  its  being  justly  chargeable  with  any  of  its  past  actions,  here 
or  hereafter  :  or,  in  other  words,  it  does  not  affect  the  reality  or 
the  permanency  of  such  intelligent  beings,  but  only  regulates 
and  retains  those  beings  under  such  a  moral  relation,  as  makes 
Thou  properly  accountable  to  some  superior  for  their  course  of 
action,  it  is  an  artificial  distinction,  yet  founded  in  the  nature, 
but  not  the  whole  nature  of  man,  who  must  have  many  other 
essential  powers  and  properties  to  subsist  as  man,  and  even  to 
support  this  in  cpiestion  ;  but  none  other,  we  say,  that  can  affect, 
or  in  anywise  alter  his  condition  in  the  above  named  respect, 
and  therefore  none  that  come  with  propriety  into  the  present 
consideration. 

This  is  all  the  mystery  of  the  matter,  which  has  puzzled  so 
many  ingenious  writers,  and  been  so  marvellously  mistaken  by 
such  as  are  not  sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  doctrine  of  ab- 
stractions, or  are  misled  by  terms  of  art,  instead  of  attending 
to  the  precise  ideas  which' these  ought  to  convey,  and  would 
always  convey  if  they  were  but  carefully  and  steadily  applied  ; 
for  want  of  which  proper  application,  men  of  genius  and  good 
sense  have  fallen  into  such  egregious  trilling*  as  serves  only  to 
disturb  this  beyond  most  other  parts  of  science,  and  has  filled 
the  above  celebrated  question  with  a  multitude  of  quibbles, 
which  Mr.  Locke's  clear  and  copious  answers  to  his  several 
opponents  might,  one  would  have  hoped,  have  most  effectually 

*  An  extraordinary  instance  of  this  kind  fs  i"  be  mot  with  in  Bidiop  Berkeley* 
■which  he  calls  a  demonstration  of  the  point ;  where  the  supposed  onion  of  A  and 
G,  net  with  the  whole  of  B,  but  with  some  different  parts  of  which  B  consists, 
will  hardly  make  them  one  with  each  other : — But  this  famous  demonstration 
may  be  ranked  among  some  others  of  the  same  sort,  and  safely  trusted  with  the 
reader  :  "Let  us  suppose  that  a  person  hath  ideas,  and  is  conscious  during  a  cer- 
tain space  of  time,  which  wc  will  divide  into  three  equal  parts,  whereof  the 
latter  terms  are  marked  by  the  letters  A,  B,  C.  In  the  first  part  of  time  the  per- 
son gets  a  certain  number  of  ideas,  which  are  retained  in  A  :  during  the  second 
part  of  time  he  retains  one  half  of  his  old  ideas,  and  loseth  the  other  half,  in  place 
of  which  he  acquires  as  many  new  ones :  so  that  in  B  his  ideas  are  half  old  and 
half  new.  And  in  (ho  third  pari  we  suppose  him  to  lose  the  remainder  of  the 
ideas  acquired  in  the  fir  rel  hew  ones  in  their  sti  ad,  which  nrr-  retained 


CONCERNING  PERSONAL  UiF.Mnl',  249 

prevented  ;  but  which  are  subsisting  to  this  very  day,  to  the  no 
small  mortification  of  all  sincere  lovers  of  truth,  arid  admirers 
of  that  able  defender  of  it.  And  I  have  beta  the  larger  on  this 
head  of  general  words  and  notions,  which  have  so  close  a  con- 
nexion with  each  other,  and  with  the  present  question,  as  the 
subject  perhaps  is  not  sufficiently  explained  by  Mr.  Locke  in  any 
one  place  of  his  admirable  essay,  though  it  occurs  pretty  often; 
and  since  the  several  properties  or  attributes  of  these  same 
abstract  ideas  are  still  so  miserably  misunderstood  as  to  have 
their  very  existence  disputed,  probably  because  he  has  been 
pleased  to  set  it  forth  in  a  manner  somewhat  paradoxical. 
Though  this  word  existence  also  is  a  term  often  misapplied,  as 
if  nothing  could  really  exist  which  was  not  an  object  of  the 
senses  :  whereas  in  these,  and  several  other  ideas,  as  lias  been 
often  observed,  their  esse  is  percipi. 

Again,  we  are  often  misled  on  the  other  hand  by  imagining 
what  things  are  in  themselves  (as  Ave  usually  term  it)  or  in  their 
internal  essences  ;  instead  of  considering  them  as  they  appear, 
and  stand  related  to  us;  or  according  to  the  ideas  that  arc 
obviously  suggested  by  them  ;  which  ideas  only  should  be  the 
objects  of  our  contemplation,  (since  we  really  perceive  nothing 
else)  and  ought  always  to  regulate  bur  inquiry  into  things,  its 
t'n.-  se.  are  the  sole  foundation  of  all  our  knowledge  concerning 
them,  of  all  that  can  with  safely  direct,  or  be  of  service  to  us. 

But  to  return  to  our  author.  That  property  then,  or  quality, 
or  whatever  he  chooses  to  call  it,  which,  in  his  own  words,  ren- 
ders men  "  sensible  that  they  are  the  same"  in  some  respects, 
is  in  Mr.  Locke's  sense,  in  the  legal,  and  in  common  sense,  thai 
which  so  far  makes  them  such,  or  brings  them  into  the  same 
relative  capacity  of  being  ranked  among  moral,  social  creatures, 
and  of  being  treated  accordingly,  for  several  obvious  purposes 
in  social  life.  This  consciousness,  I  say,  of  being  thus  far  our- 
selves, is  what,  in  Mr.  Locke's  language,  makes  us  so.  In  this 
case,  as  in  some  other  ideal  objects,  to  be,  and  be  perceived,  is 
really  the  same,  and  what  this  author  calls  the  sign  coincides 
with  the  thing  signified.  Whether  any  intelligent  being  is  at 
present  what  he  is  in  every  respect,  wants  no  proof;  of  this  he 
has  self-evident  intuitive  knowledge,*  and  can  go  no  higher. 
And  whether  he  now  is  what  he  was  once  before,  in  this  single 
article  of  personality,  can  only  be  determined  by  his  now  being 
sensible  of  what  he  then  thought  and  did,  which  is  equally  self- 
evident  ;    and  thus  %  again,  consciousness  at  the  same  time,  and 

in  C,  together  with  those  acquired  in  the  second  part  of  time. — The  persons  in 
\  and  B  are  the  game,  being  consi  ion?  of  common  id-a^  by  the  supposition.  The 
person  in  B  is  (for  the  same  reason)  one  and  the  same  with  the  person  in  C. 
Therefore  tin-  pefson  in  A  is  the  same  with  the  person  in  C,  by  that  undoubted 
axiom,  fptir.cnnmii,,,,/  uni  tertio  eonvt  niunt  inter  se.  Hut  the  person  in  C  hath 
no  idea  in  common  with  the  person  in  A.  Therefore  personal  identity  doth  no1 
isl  in  cons^ousness."1  Alciphron,  v.  2,  p.  160. 
■  note  10  to  Kinx.  Reno 


\£50  V  DEFENCE  OF  MR.  LOCKE'S  OPINION 

by  the  same  means,  that  it  convinces  him  of  this,  does  likei 
constitute  him  such  to  all  ends  and  purposes  whatsoever. 

Well  then,  having  examined  a  little  into  the  nature,  and  enu- 
merated some  few  properties  of  an  abstract  idea  in  general,  and 
shown  that  this  particular  one  before  us  can  be  nothing  more, 
we  may  find  perhaps  that  however  fluctuating  and  changeful 
this  account  may  be  judged  to  render  personality  ;  how  much 
soever  it  may  fall  short  of  some  sublime  systems  about  purely 
immaterial  substances,  and  perfectly  independent  principles  of 
thought ;  yet  there  is  no  help  for  these  changes  in  the  seat  of 
personality  ;  since,  in  the  last  place,  we  know  of  nothing  more 
stable  and  permanent  in  our  constitution  that  has  the  least  pre- 
tence to  settle  and  support  it.  All  parts  of  the  body  are  to  a 
certain  degree  in  perpetual  flux,  nor  is  any  one  of  them,  that 
we  are  acquainted  with,  concerned  in  the  present  case  more  than 
another.  As  to  the  mind,  both  its  cogitative  and  active  powers 
are  suspended  (whether  they  be  so  or  not  is  a  matter  of  fact, 
in  which  experience  only,  and  not  subtile  argumentations  drawn 
from  the  nature  of  an  unknown,  perhaps  imaginary,  essence 
ought  to  decide)  during  sound  sleep :  nay,  every  drowsy  nod 
(as  Mr.  Locke  expresses  it)  must  shake  their  doctrine,  who 
maintain  that  these  powers  are  incessantly  employed.  Call  then 
a  resuscitation  or  revival  of  these  powers,  when  we  awake, 
another  beginning  of  their  existence,  a  new  creation  ;  and 
argue  against  the  possibility  of  any  such  interruption  or  annihi- 
lation of  them,  as  long  as  you  please  ;  yet  that  it  is  matter  of 
fact,  and  nightly  experience,  and  capable  of  as  good  proof  as 
a  negative  proposition  will  admit,  is  made  out  sufficiently  by  the 
above  named  excellent  writer.  This,  if  properly  attended  to, 
and  pursued  through  its  genuine  consequences,  would  go  a 
great  way  towards  unfolding  the  true  nature  of  the  human  mind, 
which  many  thoughtful  men  seem  yet  very  little  acquainted  with, 
and  very  much  afraid  to  examine.*     And  while  this  disposition 

Will  not  the  least  hint  of  this  doctrine,  say  they,  give  great  offence,  by  appear  - 
ing  to  undermine  the  settled  distinction  between  soul  and  body, -which  is  so  much 
countenanced  and  confirmed  in  Scripture? — Does  it  not  tend  to  disturb  common 
apprehensions,  and  confound  both  the  sense  and  language  of  mankind? 

Ans.  1 .  If  this  doctrine  be  true,  and  a  truth  of  some  importance,  it  will  r.urely 
sland  the  test,  and  ought  to  be  supported  against  all  such  inconclusive  argumen- 
tations as  are  drawn  from  consequences,  and  common  prejudices,  and  can  only 
serve  to  obstruct  ail  kinds  of  improvement  in  any  science  whatsoever. 

Aajs.  2.  The  two  great  constituents  of  our  frame  frequently  alluded  to  in 
Scripture,  and  t  p  which  [as  to  other  popular  notions  and  received  forms  of  expres- 
sion] it  usually  accommodates  itself,  are  here  no  more  ownioanded,  than  when  St. 
Paul  introduces  a  third  as  no  less  essential  to  the  whole  of  our  composition  :  "  I 
pray  Clod  your  whole  spirit,  ami  soul,  and  body,  be  preserved  blameless  unto  the 
coming  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.'"     1  Thess.  v.  23. 

So  far  is  either  the  true  senseof  Scripture,  or  the  real  nature  of  things,  from 
being  confined  to  the  logical  arrangement  of  them  under  their  established  genera 
or  species  ;  so  little  concerned  either  m  our  physical  or  metaphysical  distinctions 
of  them,  v.  g.  into  animal  and  vegetable,  material  and  immaterial,  substance  and 
Tiropertv.  &c.  n<>r  isits  language  more  confounded,  or  its  authority  shaken,  by  su^ic 


(  i>.\v  L.KMNt.    I'ERSOMAL  IDKNTITV.  201 

holds,  vye  can  never  expecl  to  come  at  the  original  core  of  all 
those  corruptions  thai  have  inflected  this  branch  of  philosophy, 
and  extended  themselves  to  some  other  parte  of  science.  ]Nor 
are  the  several  proofs,  or,  if  yon  please,  probabilities,  that  I  was 
not  thinking  all  the  hist  night,  sufficiently  answered  by  the  old 
excuse  that  I  may  forget  all  such  thoughts  immediately  as  soon 
as  ever  I  awake  :  for  selling  aside  the  great  improbability  of 
this  happening  so  very  constantly,  for  so  long  a  time,  it  must 
,  ppear  to  any  one  who  understands  what  he  says,  that  whoso- 
ever, or  whatsoever,  was  thus  employed,  it  could  not  possibly 
be  I  who  was  all  this  while  busily  engaged  in  such  thought, 
since  they  never  bore  the  least  share  in  my  series  of  conscious- 
ness, never  were  connected  with  the  chain  of  my  waking 
thoughts,  nor  therefore  could  any  more  belong  to  me,  than  if 
you  suppose  them  (as  you  might  full  as  well,  for  argument's 
sake,  and  to  salve  a  hypothesis)  to  be  the  working  of  some 
secret  mechanism,  or  kept  up  in  the  watch  that  was  lying  by  me. 
Something  like  this,  I  presume,  would  be  the  plea  which  all  the 
advocates  for  this  lame  system  would  offer  in  their  own  defence, 
were  any  one  so  injurious  as  to  charge  them  with  things  done 
or  said  in  their  sleep.  The  same  observation  may  be  urged 
against  that  absurd,  self-repugnant  hypothesis  of  our  having 
been  in  a  pre-existent  state  :  for  whatsoever  was  done  there,  it 
can  be  nothing  to  us,  who  had  never  the  least  notice  or  con- 
ception of  it. 

To  the  difficulties  so  often  objected,  of  this  being  a  "  new 
creation,"  and  making  the  same  thing  have  "two  beginnings  of 
existence;" — we  may  observe,  that  it  would  indeed  be  an  absur- 
dity to  suppose  two  beginnings  of  existence,  if  the  identity  of 
a  substance,  being,  or  man  were  inquired  into  ;  but  when  the 
inquiry  is  made  into  the  artificial  abstract  idea  of  personality, 
invented  for  a  particular  end,  to  answer  which  consciousness 

a  new   system  of  pneumatqlogy,  than   it  was  by  the  late   one  of  Copernicus 
concerning  each  of  the  planetary  motions  :  which  proved, that  strictly  and  philo- 
sophically speaking,  neither  does  the  sun  rise,  nor  the  earth  stand  upon  pillars,  &c. 
or  by  Newton's  principles. of  gravity  and  vacuum  (li>r  whose  supposed  innova- 
tions his  French  commentators  Lately  thought  themselves  still  obliged  to  enter 
ave.it,  and  make  apology  to  the  church  ;)  or  Locke's  more  hardy  doctrine 
"  no  innate  ideas-."  of  which  this  doctrine  of  ours  is  a  necessary  consequence  ; 
Since  if  the  mind  was  once  a  mere  ram  tabula, H  will  scon  appear  not  only  from 
whence  it  received  all  its  furniture,  but  also  where  that  is  lodged — (See  Esq. 
Search  S:  account  of  what  he  terms  the  mind's  internal  organs.     Light  of  .Nat . 
pursued,  c.  7,  8) — all  which  \\  ei  e  once  equally  dangerous  and  offensi .  e  positions  : 
such  surmises,  as  '  dvanced  about  them,  he  admitted  in  anj 

other  case  ?  would  ev<  n  a  Romish  or  arrj  other  Inquisition  now  he  found  weak  or 
wick-  ■  h  to  proceed  upon  them  ?  and  if  at.last  an  author  shall  incur  the 

n  a,,. I  be  traduced  by  the  name  of  Saddiu  ee,  Socinian,  semipa- 
jan,  &c.  for  his  innocent,  as  be  thinks, .perhaps  laudable  intentions  ;— if  offence 
will  be  taken,  as  it  often  happens,  where  no  just  cause  of  offence  is  given;  be 
must  patiently  submit  to  his,  hard  fate.,  and  only  beg  leave  to  inquire  whether 
be  noi  some  roonj  for  suspending  our  judgment  awhile,  till  it  more  fully 


^52  A  DEFENCE  OF  MR.  LUCRE'S  OPK\l<"..\ 

only  is  required,  beginning  and  end  of  existence  are  quite  our 
of  the  question,  being  foreign  to  any  consideration  of  the  sub- 
let.— It  may  be  farther  observed,  that  in  fact  we  meet  with 
something  of  the  same  kind  every  morning  after  a  total  interrup- 
tion of  thought  (and  I  hope  we  may  by  this  time  in  one  sense 
be  allowed  to  term  it  so)  during  sound  sleep  :  nay,  if  we  search 
the  thing  narrowly,  and  may  in  our  turn  enter  into  such  minutia.', 
thus  much  will  be  implied  in  the  successive  train  of  our  ideas, 
even  in  each  hour  of  the  day  ;  that  same  article  of  succession 
including  some  degree  of  distance  between  each  of  them,  and 
consequently  at  every  successive  step  there  is  a  new  production, 
which  may  with  equal  reason  be  styled  an  interruption  of  thought, 
or  a  new  exertion  of  the  thinking  power. — But  enough  of  these 
nuga  dijjiciles.  Such  changeable,  frail  creatures  then  are  we 
through  life  ;  yet  safe  in  the  hand  of  that  unchangeably  just, 
wise,  "good,  and  all-powerful  Being,  who  perfectly  understands 
our  frame,  and  will  make  due  allowances  for  each  defect  or 
disorder  incident  to  it ;  who  at  first  created  us  out  of  nothing, 
and  still  preserves  us  through  each  shifting  scene,  be  the  revolu- 
tions in  it  ever  so  frequent  and  rapid,  and  will  at  length  most, 
assuredly  conduct  us  to  immortality.  Though  in  every  respect 
we  are  here  "  fleeing  as  it  were  a  shadow,  and  never  continuing 
in  one  stay,"  and  at  last  suffer  a  short  seeming  pause*  in  our 
existence,  which  is  in  Scripture  termed  the  "sleep  of  death  :" 
yet  will  he  again  raise  us  '•'  out  of  the  dust ;"  restore  us  to  our- 
selves and  to  our  friends  ;f  revive  our  consciousness  of  each 
past  act  or  habit,  that  may  prove  of  the  least  moral  import ; 
cause  the  "  secrets  of  all  hearts  to  be  laid  open,"  and  either  re- 
ward or  punish  every  one  according  to  his  works  done  in  the 
body. 

Nor  does  it  imply  a  plurality  of  persons  in  any  man  at  any 
time  given  to  charge  him  with  various  actions  or  omissions; 
since  he  may  become  guilty  of  a  plurality  of  crimes,  as  often  as 
he  is  induced  or  enabled  to  reflect  upon  them,  though  these 
r-annot  be  crowded  into  his  mind  altogether,  any  more  than  they 

:;  i.  r.  A  pause  in  the  opinion  and  sight  of  other  sentient  beings  existing  after 
our  departure,  bat  not  a  pause  strictly  so  called  to  the  person  himself,  in  which 
Hicre  will  be  an  unbroken  thread  of  consciousness  or  continued  personality  ;  time 
tmpereeived  being  no  time,  time  absolute  a  fiction,  and  no  idea  intervening 
between  the  moment?  of  his  tailing  asleep  and  waking  again,  these  will  be  to  him 
coincident :  which  show-s,that  personality  cannot  have  two  beginnings  of  exist- 
ence, though  'the  substance  in  which  it  is  found  may  be  perpetually  varied,  and 
t  hough  sometimes  a  less  number  of  facts  rise  up  to  his  remembrance. 

1  To  one  who  has  not  seen  and  felt  the  unhappy  effects  of  human  prejudice  and 
partial  judgment  in  such  cases,  it  might  appear  strange  that  so  many  wise  and 
able  men  should  still  continue  ignorant  of  this,  after  all  the  fullest  information 
■riven  us  m  the  following  express  declaration  of  that  great  and  good  apostle  St. 
Paul  :  '•  I  would  not  have  you  to  be  ignorant,  brethren,  concerning  them  which 
are  asleep,  that  ye  sorrow  not  even  as  ovhers  which  have  no  hope.  For  if  we 
believe  that  Jesus  died  and  rose  again,  even  so  them  also  which  sleep  in  Jesus 
will  God  1  Tin- with  him.— Wherefore  comfort  one  another  with  these  words'' 

Thess.  iv.  13,  &  •  * 


CONCERNING  PERSONAL  IDENTITY.  253 

could  have  been  so  committed.  Nor  therefore  need  all  past 
actions  become  at  once  present  to  the  mind  ;  which  is  utterly 
inconsistent  with  our  frame,  as  it  now  stands,  and  perhaps  with 
that  of  every  other  created  being ;  nor  is  there  a  necessity  for 
any  one  idea  being  always  actually  in  view,  which  is  equally  so  ; 
but  only  for  a  capacity  of  having  such  brought  to  mind  again, 
together  with  a  consciousness  of  their  having  been  there  before, 
(which  distinguishes  them  from  entirely  new  ones)  or  a  possi- 
bility of  recognising  them  upon  occasion,  at  least  whenever  we 
are  to  account  for  them,  as  has  been  frequently  observed.  So 
far  as  any  such  recognition  reaches,  such  person  is  the  same  ; 
when  this  faculty  varies,  that  must  vary  also  ;  and  he  become 
the  same,  or  not,  at  different  times  and  in  divers  respects,  as  ob- 
served likewise  ;  at  least  his  accountableness  must  vary  in  pro- 
portion, call  this  personality,  or  what  you  think  fit.  Nor  does  it 
properly  lie  in  a  power  of  causing  a  return  of  the  same  idea  ; 
but  rather  in  the  capacity  of  receiving  it,  of  re-admitting  the 
same  consciousness  concerning  any  past  thought,  action,  or 
perception.  Nor  is  it  merely  a  present  representation  of  any 
such  act ;  but  a  representation  of  it  as  our  own,  which  entitles 
us  to  it ;  one  person  may  know  or  become  conscious  of  the 
deeds  of  another,  but  this  is  not  knowing  that  he  himself  was 
the  author  of  those  deeds,  which  is  a  contradiction ;  and  to 
treat  him  as  such  upon  that  account  only  would  be  inverting  all 
rules  of  right  and  wrong  ;  and  could  not  therefore  be  practised 
by  either  God  or  man,  since  no  end  could  possibly  be  answered 
by  such  treatment,  as  observed  above. 

To  dwell  upon  those  surprising  consequences  that  might 
attend  the  transferring  the  same  consciousness  to  different  beings, 
or  giving  the  same  being  very  different  ones,  is  merely  puzzling 
and  perplexing  the  point,  by  introducing  such  confusions  as 
never  really  existed,  and  would  not  alter  the  true  state  of  the 
question,  if  they  did. 

Such  fairy  tales  and  Arabian  transformations,  possible  or  im- 
possible, can  only  serve  to  amuse  the  fancy,  without  any  solid 
information  to  the  judgment.  These  flights  of  mere  imagina- 
tion Mr.  Locke  generally  avoids,  though  he  was  here  tempted 
to  indulge  a  few  such,  in  playing  with  the  wild  suppositions  of 
his  adversaries,  [v.  g.  a  change  of  souls  between  Socrates  and 
the  Mayor  of  Queenborough,  &c]  probably  to  enliven  a  dry 
subject,  and  render  it  more  palatable  to  the  bulk  of  his  readers'; 

Nor  are  those  cases  of  a  disordered  imagination  in  lunacy  or 
vapours,  where  persons  are  for  a  time  beside  themselves,  (as 
we  usually  term  it)  and  may  believe  such  chimerical  alterations 
to  befall  them,  any  more  to  the  purpose. 

But  it  were  endless  to  unravel  all  the  futile  sophisms  and 
false  suppositions  that  have  been  introduced  info  the  present 
question  ;  I  have  endeavoured  to  obviate  such  as  appeared  most- 
material,  and  account  for  them:  and  at  the  same  time  to  innil- 

Yot,  IT,  ;]:l 


,254  A  DEFENCE  OP  MR.  LOCKE'S  OPINION,  ETC 

Cate  a  doctrine,  which,  though  common  enough,  seemed  not 
enough  attended  to ;  yet  is  fundamentally  requisite  to  a  right 
understanding  of  this  intricate  subject.  And  if  that  which  is 
is  laid  down  above  be  a  true  state  of  the  case,  all  the  rest  of 
our  author's  plan,  [of  placing  personal  identity  in  a  continuation 
of  thought*]  will  drop  of  course.  I  trust  the  reader  will  make 
allowance  for  some  repetitions,  which  were  left  to  render  things 
as  plain  as  possible,  and  to  prevent  future  subterfuges  of  the 
like  kind  ;  and  if  the  substance  of  these  few  hasty  observations 
on  the  first  part  of  this  ingenious  writer's  essay  prove  in  the 
least  degree  satisfactory  to  himself,  or  have  a  tendency  to  enlarge 
general  knowledge,  and  guard  against  popular  errors,  I  must 
rely  upon  his  candour  for  excusing  the  manner  in  which  they 
are  thrown  out ;  and  shall  take  the  liberty  of  closing  them  in 
the  form  of  a  syllogism,  which  is  submitted  to  his  consideration. 

Quo  posito  ponitur  personae  identitas,  et  quo  sublato  tollitur, 
id  personalem  identitatem  constituit : 

Sed  posita  conscientia,  &c. 

Ergo. 

*  Which  disposition,  could  it  be  made  out,  -would  never  answer  the  intent  01 
society,  or  help  to  direct  us  in  our  duty,  the  two  grand  objects  which  first  gave 
birth  to  personality,  i.  e.  to  a  very  partial  confined  consideration,  of  that  complex 
idea,  substance,  or  being,  called  man. 


APPENDIA 


t/i  friend,  welt  acquainted  faith  the  subject  of  the  foregoing  siieelsf 
having  communicated  to  me  some  observations  concerning  the  use. 
of  the  word  Person,  which  came  too  late  to  be  inserted  in  their 
proper  place,  I  must  take  the  liberty  of  annexing  them,,  though 
they  occasion  some  more  redundancies  and  repetitions,  in  order  to 
throw  as  much  light  as  is  possible  on  this  very  obscure  and  long 
controverted  question. 

As  Mr.  Locke's  definition  of  the  term  person,  (chap,  xxvii.  § 
9)  may  possibly  create  some  difficulty,  it  will  be  proper  to 
examine  into  the  sense  which  should  be  put  upon  this  word, 
whenever  we  inquire  after  the  identity  of  any  man's  person  ; 
which  may  perhaps  at  once  lead  us  to  a  just  conception  of  the 
whole.  In  the  aforementioned  section  Mr.  Locke  says,  that 
person  stands  for  "  a  thinking  intelligent  being,  that  has  reason 
and  reflection,5'  &c.  whereas  I  should  imagine  the  expression 
would'have  been  more  just,  had  he  said  that  the  word  person 
stands  for  an  attribute,  or  quality,  or  character  of  a  thinking 
intelligent  being  ;  in  the  same  sense  as  Tully  uses  it,  Orat.  pro 
Syll.  §  3.  "  Hanc  mihi  tu  si,  propter  res  meas  gestas,  imponis 
in  omni  vita  mea  personam,  Torquate,  vehementer  erras.  Me 
natura  misericordem,  patria  severum  ;  crudelem  nee  patria,  neo 
natura  esse  voluit :  denique  istam  ipsain  personam  vehemen- 
tem  et  acrem,  quam  mihi  turn  tempus  et  respubliea  imppsuit, 
jam  voluntas  et  natura  ipsa  detraxit."  It  came  at  last  to  be  con- 
founded with,  and  stand  for  homo  gerens  personam,  (Taylor,  Civ. 
L.  p.  247,  248)  and  in  this  sense  Locke  has  incautiously  defined 
the  word.  It  is  attributed  also  to  more  intelligent  beings  than 
one  ;  as  by  the  Jesuits  in  their  declaration  prefixed  to  the  third 
book  of  Newton,  alienam  coacti  sumus  gerere  personam.  The 
word  person  then,  according  to  the  received  sense  in  all  classi- 
cal authors,  standing  for  a  certain  guise,  character,  quality,  i.  c. 
being  in  fact  a  mixed  mode,  or  relation,  and  not  a  substance  ; 
we  must  next  inquire,  what  particular  character  or  quality  it 
stands  for  in  this  place,  as  the  same  man  may  bear  many  cha- 
racters and  relations  at  the  same  or  different  times.  The  answer 
is,  that  here  it  stands  for  that  particular  quality  or  character, 
under  which  annan  is  considered  when  he  is  treated  as  an  intelli- 
gent being,  subject  to  government  and  laws,  and  accountable  for 
his  actions  ;  i.  e,  not  the  man  himself,  but  an  abstract  consj. 


256        APPENDIX  TO  DEFENCE  OF  MK.  LOCKE'S  OPINION- 

deration  of  him,  for  such  and  such  particular  ends :  and  to- 
inquire  after  its  identity  is  to  inquire,  not  after  the  identity  of  a 
conscious  being-,  but  after  the  identity  of  a  quality  or  attribute 
of  such  a  conscious  being.  All  difficulties  that  relate  to  a  man's 
forgetting  some  actions,  &c.  now  vanish,  when  person  is  con- 
sidered as  a  character,  and  not  a  substance,  or  confounded  with 
homo  gerens  personam  :  and  it  amounts  to  no  more  than  saying  a 
man  puts  on  a  mask — continuing  to  wear  it  for  some  time — 
puts  oft'  one  mask  and  takes  another,  i.  e.  appears  to  have  con- 
sciousness— to  recollect  past  consciousness — does  not  recollect 
fhem,  &c.  The  impropriety  consists  in  saying,  a  man  is  the 
same  person  with  him  who  did  such  a  fact;  which  is  the  same 
as  to  say,  a  man  is  blackness,  guilt,  &c.  i.  e.  a  mixed  mode  is 
is  predicated  of  a  substance ;  whereas  it  ought  to  be,  in  strict 
propriety  of  speech,  the  person  of  the  man  who  did  such  a  fact 
is  the  same  with  the  person  of  him  who  now  stands  before  us  ; 
or,  in  plainer  terms,  the  man  who  now  stands  before  the  court 
is  conscious  of  the  former  facts,  and  is  therefore  the  proper 
object  of  punishment.  It  may  be  observed,  that  the  word  per- 
sonality is  really  an  absurd  expression  :  since  person  itself  stands 
for  the  mixed  mode  or  quality; — and  personality,  therefore,  may 
be  ranked  among  the  old  scholastic  terms  of  corporeity,  egoity, 
tableity,  &c.  or  is  even  yet  more  harsh  ;  as  mixed  modes,  such 
as  gratitude,  murder,  and  therefore  person,  cannot  be  thus  re- 
modified  without  peculiar  absurdity. 


CONDUCT 

OF  THI'I 

UNDERSTANDING 


V^uid  Lam  iciju  riuiuni  tamque  indignum  sapientis  gravitate  alque  coualautuu, 
quam  aut  falsum  sentire,  ant  quod  uon  satis  expforate  pcrceptum  sit,  et  cogni*- 
turn, sine  ull.'i  dubitatione  defcndere  ? — Cic.de  Nalvra  Deorutn,  lib.  TL 


§  1:    INTRODUCTION. 

The  last  resort  a  man  has  recourse  to,  in  the  conduct  of  him- 
self, is  his  understanding :  for  though  we  distinguish  the  facul- 
ties of  the  mind,  and  give  the  supreme  command  to  the  will,  as 
to  an  agent ;  yet  the  truth  is,  the  man  who  is  the  agent,  deter- 
mines himself  to  this,  or  that  voluntary  action,  upon  some  pre- 
cedent knowledge,  or  appearance  of  knowledge,  in  the  under- 
standing. No  man  ever  sets  himself  about  any  thing  but  upon 
some  view  or  other,  which  serves  him  for  a  reason  for  what  he 
does  :  and  whatsoever  faculties  he  employs,  the  understanding, 
with  such  light  as  it  has,  well  or  ill  informed,  constantly  leads  ; 
and  by  that  light,  true  or  false,  all  his  operative  powers  are 
directed.  The  will  itself,  how  absolute  and  uncontrollablc- 
soever  it  may  be  thought,  never  fails  in  its  obedience  to  the  die- 
fates  of  the  understanding.  Temples  have  their  sacred  images, 
and  we  see  what  influence  they  have  always  had  over  a  great 
■part  of  mankind.  But,  in  truth,  the  ideas  and  images  in  men's 
minds  are  the  invisible  powers  that  constantly  govern  them  , 
and  to  these  they  all  universally  pay  a  ready  submission.  It  is, 
therefore,  of  the  highest  concernment  that  great  care  should  be 
taken  of  the  understanding,  to  conduct  it  right  in -the  search  of 
knowledge,  and  in  the  judgments  it  makes. 

The  logic,  now  in  use,  has  so  long  possessed  the  chair,  a< 
the  only  art  taught  in  the  schools,  for  the  direction  of  the  mind, 
ni  the  study  of  the  arts  and  sciences,  that  it  would  perhaps  be 
i bought  an  allegation  of  novelty  to  suspect,  that  rules,  that 
have  served  tfye  learned  world  these  two  or  three  thousand 
years,  and  which,  without  any  complaint  of  defects,  the  ^earned 
have  rested  in,  are  not  sufficient  to  guide  the  understanding. 
And  I  should  hot  doubt  but  this  attempt  would  be  censured  as 
vanity  or  presumption,  did  not  the  great  losd  Venilam's  autho- 


2bb  CONDUCT  OF  Tilt,  UNDERSTANDING. 

fity  justify  it ;  who,  not  servilely  thinking  learning  could  not  bt 
advanced  beyond  what  it  was,  because  for  many  ages  it  had  not 
been,  did  not  rest  in  the  lazy  approbation  and  applause  of  what 
was,  because  it  was  ;  but  enlarged  his  mind  to  what  it  might  be. 
In  his  preface  to  his  Novum  Organum,  concerning  logic,  he 
pronounces  thus  :  "  Qui  summas  dialecticae  partes  tribuerunt, 
atque  inde  fidissima  scientiis  praesidia  comparari  putarunt,  veris- 
sime  et  optime  viderunt  intellectum  humanum,  sibi  permissum, 
merito  suspectum  esse  debere.  Verum  infirmior  omnino  est 
malo  medicina ;  nee  ipsa  mali  expers.  Siquidem  dialectica, 
quae  recepta  est,  licet  ad  civilia  et  artes,  quae  in  sermone  et 
opinione  positae  sunt,  rectissime  adhibeatur  ;  naturas  tamen  sub- 
tilitatem  longo  intervallo  non  attingit,  et  prensando  quod  non 
capit,  ad  errores  potius  stabiliendos  et  quasi  figendos,  quam  ad 
viam  veritati  aperiendam  valuit." 

"  They,"  says  he,  "  who  attributed  so  much  to  logic,  per- 
ceived very  well  and  truly,  that  it  was  not  safe  to  trust  the  under- 
standing to  itself  without  the  guard  of  any  rules.  But  the 
remedy  reached  not  the  evil,  but  became  a  part  of  it :  for  the 
logic,  which  took  place,  though  it  might  do  well  enough  in  civil 
affairs,  and  the  arts,  which  consisted  in  talk  and  opinion ;  yet 
comes  very  far  short  of  subtlety,  in  the  real  performances  of 
nature ;  and,  catching  at  what  it  cannot  reach,  has  served  to 
confirm  and  establish  errors,  rather  than  to  open  a  way  to  truth." 
And  therefore  a  little  after  he  says,  "  That  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  that  abetter  and  perfecter  use  and  employment  of  the 
mind  and  understanding  should  be  introduced."  "  Necessario 
requiritur  ut  melior  et  perfectior  mentis  et  intellectus  humani 
usus  et  adoperatio  introducatur." 

^  2.    PARTS. 

There  is,  it  is  ^  isible,  great  variety  in  men's  understandings, 
and  their  natural  constitutions  put  so  wide  a  difference  between 
i-iome  men,  in  this  respect,  that  art  and  industry  would  never  be 
able  to  master ;  and  their  very  natures  seem  to  want  a  founda- 
tion to  raise  on  it  that  which  other  men  easily  attain  unto. — 
Among  men  of  equal  education  there  is  great  inequality  of  parts. 
And  the  woods  of  America,  as  well  as  the  schools  of  Athens, 
produce  men  of  several  abilities  in  the  same  kind.  Though 
this  be  so,  yet  I  imagine  most  men  come  very  short  of  what: 
they  might  attain  unto,  in  their  several  degrees,  by  a  neglect  of 
their  understandings.  A  few  rules  of  logic  are  thought  suffi- 
cient, in  this  case,  for  those  who  pretend  to  the  highest  improve- 
ment ;  whereas  I  think  there  are  a  great  many  natural  defects 
in  the  understanding,  capable  of  amendment ;  which  are  over- 
looked and  wholly  neglected.  And  it  is  easy  to  perceive,  that 
men  are  guilty  of  agreat  many  faults  in  the  exercise  and  improve- 
ment of  this  faculty  of  the  mind,  which  hinder  them  in  their 
progress,  and  keep  them  in  ignorance  and  error  all  their  lives. 


CONDUCT  OP  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  259 

Some  of  them  I  shall  take  notice  of,  and  endeavour  to  point 
out  proper  remedies  for,  in  the  following  discourse. 

§3.    REASONING. 

Besides  the  want  of  determined  ideas,  and  of  sagacity,  and 
exercise  in  finding  out,  and  laying  in  order,  intermediate  ideas  ; 
there  are  three  miscarriages  that  men  are  guilty  of,  in  reference 
to  their  reason,  whereby  this  faculty  is  hindered  in  them  from 
that  service  it  might  do,  and  was  designed  for.  .And  he,  that 
reflects  upon  the  actions  and  discourses  of  mankind,  will  find 
their  defects  in  this  kind  very  frequent,  and  very  observable. 

1 .  The  first  is  of  those  who  seldom  reason  at  all,  but  do  and 
think  according  to  the  example  of  others,  whether  parents, 
neighbours,  ministers,  or  who  else  they  are  pleased  to  make 
choice  of  to  have  an  implicit  faith  in,  for  the  saving  of  them- 
selves the  pains  and  trouble  of  thinking  and  examining  for  them- 
selves. 

2.  The  second  is  of  those  who  put  passion  in  the  place  of 
reason,  and,  being  resolved  that  shall  govern  their  actions  and 
arguments,  neither  use  their  own,  nor  hearken  to  other  peo- 
ple's reason,  any  farther  than  it  suits  their  humour,  interest,  or 
party  ;  and  these  one  may  observe  commonly  content  themselves 
with  words  which  have  no  distinct  ideas  to  them,  though,  in 
other  matters  that  they  come  with  an  unbiassed  indifferency  to, 
they  want  not  abilities  to  talk  and  hear  reason,  where  they  have 
no  secret  inclination  that  hinders  them  from  being  intractable 
to  it.- 

3.  The  third  sort  is  of  those  who  readily  and  sincerely  follow 
reason ;  but,  for  want  of  having  that  which  one  may  call  large, 
sound,  round-about  sense,  have  not  a  full  view  of  all  that  relates 
to  the  question,  and  may  be  of  moment  to  decide  it.  We  are  all 
.short-sighted,  and  very  often  see  but  one  side  of  the  matter ; 
our  views  are  not  extended  to  all  that  has  a  connexion  with  it. 
From  this  defect  I  think  no  man  is  free.  We  see  but  in  part, 
and  wre  know  but  in  part,  and  therefore  it  is  no  wonder  we  con- 
elude  not  right  from  our  partial  views.  This  might  instruct  the 
proudest  esteemer  of  his  own  parts,  how  useful  it  is  to  talk  and 
consult  with  others,  even  such  as  come  short  of  him  in  capa- 
city, quickness,  and  penetration:  for,  since  no  one  sees  all. 
;itid  we  generally  have  different  prospects  of  the  same  thing, 
according  to  our  different,  as  I  may  say,  positions  to  it ;  it  is  not 
incongruous  to  think,  nor  beneath  any  man  to  try,  whether 
another  may  not  have  notions  of  things,  which  have  escaped 
him,  and  which  his  reason  would  make  use  of  if  they  came 
into  his  mind.  The  faculty  of  reasoning  seldom  or  never 
deceives  those  who  trust  to  it ;  its  consequences,  from  what  it 
builds  on,  ore  evident  and  certain  ;  but  that  which  it  oftenest,  if 
not  only,  misleads  us  in,  is,  that  the  principles  from  which  we 
corifhuU'  the  grounds  upon  which  we  bottom  out  reasoning, 


062  CONDUCT  OP  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 

are  but  a  pavt,  something  is  left  out,  which  should  go  into  the 
reckoning,  to  make  it  just  and  exact.  Here  we  may  imagine  a 
vast  and  almost  infinite  advantage  that  angels  and  separate  spirits 
may  have  over  us ;  who,  in  their  several  degrees  of  elevation 
above  us,  may  be  endowed  with  more  comprehensive  faculties  : 
and  some  of  them,  perhaps,  having  perfect  and  exact  views  of 
all  finite  beings  that  come  under  their  consideration,  can,  as  it 
were,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  collect  together  all  their  scat- 
tered and  almost  boundless  relations.  A  mind  so  furnished, 
what  reason  has  it  to  acquiesce  in  the  certainty  of  its  conclu- 
sions ! 

In  this  we  may  see  the  reason  why  some  men  of  study  and 
thought,  that  reason  right,  and  are  lovers  of  truth,  do  make  no 
great  advances  in  their  discoveries  of  it.  Error  and  truth  are 
uncertainly  blended  in  their  minds  ;  their  decisions  are  lame  and 
defective,  and  they  are  very  often  mistaken  in  their  judgments  : 
the  reason  whereof  is,  they  converse  but  with  one  sort  of  men. 
they  read  but  one  sort  of  books,  they  will  not  come  in  the  hear- 
ing but  of  one  sort  of  notions  :  the  truth  is,  they  canton  out  to 
themselves  a  little  Goshen,  in  the  intellectual  world,  where  light 
shines,  and,  as  they  conclude,  day  blesses  them  ;  but  the  rest  of 
that  vast  expansum  they  give  up  to  night  and  darkness,  and  so 
avoid  coming  near  it.  They  have  a  pretty  traffic  with  known 
correspondents,  in  some  little  creek ;  within  that  they  confine 
themselves,  and  are  dexterous  managers  enough  of  the  wares 
and  products  of  that  corner,  with  which  they  content  them- 
selves, but  will  not  venture  out  into  the  great  ocean  of  know- 
ledge, to  survey  the  riches  that  nature  hath  stored  other  parts 
with,  no  less  genuine,  no  less  solid,  no  less  useful,  than  what 
has  fallen  to  their  lot  in  the  admired  plenty  and  sufficiency  of 
their  own  little  spot,  which  to  them  contains  whatsoever  is  good 
in  the  universe.  Those  who  live  thus  mewed  up  within  theh- 
own  contracted  territories,  and  will  not  look  abroad  beyond  the 
boundaries  that  chance,  conceit,  or  laziness,  has  set  to  their 
inquiries  ;  but  live  separate  from  the  notions,  discourses,  and 
attainments  of  the  rest  of  mankind  ;  may  not  amiss  be  repre- 
sented by  the  inhabitants  of  the  Marian  islands,  who,  being- 
separated,  by  a  large  tract  of  sea,  from  all  communion  with  the 
habitable  parts  of  the  earth,  thought  themselves  the  only  people 
of  the  world.  And  though  the  straitness  of  the  conveniences 
of  life  among  them  had  never  reached  so  far  as  to  the  use  of 
fire  till  the  Spaniards,  not  many  years  since,  in  their  voyages 
from  Acapulco  to  Manilla,  brought  it  among  them,  yet,  in  the 
want  and  ignorance  of  almost  all  things,  they  looked  upon 
themselves,  even  after  that  the  Spaniards  had  brought  among 
them  the  notice  of  variety  of  nations,  abounding  in  sciences, 
arts,  and  conveniencies  of  life,  of  which  they  knew  nothing  ; 
they  looked  upon  themselves,  I  say,  as  the  happiest  and  wisest 
people  of  ihr  universe;     But.  for  nl!  tliat,  nobody,  1  think,  will 


CONDUCT   OP   TIM;    UNDEHS'FANDTMG.  .  ,2(jl 

imagine  them  deep  naturalists,  or  solid  metaphysicians  ;  nobody 
will    deem    the    quickest-sighted    among   them    to    have    very 
enlarged  views  in  ethics,  or  politics  ;  nor  can  any  one  allow  the 
most  capable  among  them  to  be  advanced  so  far  in  his  under- 
standing as  to  have  any  other  knowledge  but  of  the  few  little 
things  of  his  and  the  neighbouring  islands,  within  his  commerce  ; 
lint  far  enough  from  that  comprehensive  enlargement  of  mind, 
which  adorns  a  soul  devoted  to  truth,  assisted  with  letters,  and  a 
free  generation  of  the  several  views  and  sentiments  of  thinking 
men  of  all   sides.     Let  not  men,  therefore,  that  would  have  a 
sight  of  what  every  one  pretends  to  be  desirous  to  have  a  sight 
of,  truth  in  its  full  extent,  narrow  and  blind  their  own  prospect. 
Let  not  men  think  there  is  no  truth  but  in  the  sciences  that  the', 
study,  or  books  that  they  read.     To  prejudge  other  men's  no- 
tions, '  before  we  have  looked  into  them,  is  not  to  show  their 
darkness,  but  to  put  out  our  own  eyes.     "  Try  all  things,  hold 
last  that  which  is  good,"  is  a  divine  rule,  coming  from  the  Father 
of  light  and  truth  ;  and  it  is  hard  to  know  what  other  way  men 
can  come  at  truth,  to  lay  hold  of  it,  if  they  do  not  dig  and  search 
for  it  as  for  gold  and  hid  treasure  ;  but  he  that  does  so  must 
have  much  earth  and  rubbish,  before  he  gets  the  pure  metal : 
sand,  and  pebbles,  and  dross  usually  lie  blended  with  it ;  but  the 
gold  is  nevertheless  gold,  and  will  enrich  the  man  that  employs 
bis  pains  to  seek  and  separate  it.    Neither  is  there  any  danger  he 
should  be  deceived  by  the  mixture.     Every  man  carries  about 
him  a  touchstone,  if  he  will  make  use  of  it,  to  distinguish  sub- 
stantial gold  from  superficial  glitterings,  truth  from  appearances. 
And,  indeed,  the  use  and  benefit  of  this  touchstone,  which  is 
natural  reason,  is  spoiled  and  lost  only  by  assumed  prejudices, 
overweening  presumption,  and  narrowing  our  minds.     The  want 
of  exercising  it,  in  the  full  extent  of  things  intelligible,  is  that 
which  weakens  and  extinguishes  this  noble  faculty  in  us.     Trace 
it,  and  see  whether  it  be  not  so.     The  day-labourer  in  a  country- 
village  has  commonly  but  a  small  pittance  of  knowledge,  because 
his  ideas  and  notions  have  been  confined  to  the  narrow  bounds 
of  a  poor  conversation  and  employment :  the  low  mechanic  of 
a  country  town  does  somewhat  outdo  him  :  porters  and  cob- 
blers of  great  cities  surpass  them.     A  country  gentleman  who, 
leaving  Latin  and  learning  in  the  university,  removes  thence  to 
his  mansion-house,  and  associates  with  neighbours  of  the  same 
strain,  who  relish  nothing  but  hunting  and  a  bottle  ;  with  those 
alone  he  spends  his  time,  with  those  alone  he  converses,  and 
can  away  with  no  company  whose  discourse  goes  beyond  what, 
claret  and  dissoluteness  inspire  : — such  a  patriot,  formed  in  this 
happy  way  of  improvement,  cannot  fail,  as  we  see,  to  give  nota- 
ble decisions  upon  the  bench,  at  quarter-sessions,  and  eminent 
proofs  of  his  skill  in  polities,  when  the  strength  of  his  purse  and 
party  have  advanced  him  to  a,  more  conspicuous  station.     To 
VoLs  II  3 4 


;i&£  COH0UQ?   OF  XHt:   UTiDSRSTANOIMti. 

s,ucli  a  one,  truly,  an  ordinary  coffee-house  gleaner  oi'  the  city 
is  an  arrant  statesman,  and  as  much  superior  to,  as  a  man  con- 
versant about  Whitehall  and  the  court  is  to  an  ordinary  shop- 
keeper. To  carry  this  a  little  farther :  here  is  one  muffled  up 
in  the  zeal  and  infallibility  of  his  own  sect,  and  will  not  touch 
a  book  or  enter  into  debate  with  a  person  that  will  question  any 
of  those  things  which  to  him  are  sacred.  Another  surveys  our 
differences  in  religion  with  an  equitable  and  fair  indifference,  and 
so  finds,  probably,  that  none  of  them  are  in  every  thing  unex- 
ceptionable. These  divisions  and  systems  were  made  by  men, 
and  carry  the  mark  of  fallible  on  them  ;  and  in  those  whom  he 
differs  from,  and,  till  he  opened  his  eyes,  had  a  general  prejudice 
against,  he  meets  with  more  to  be  said  for  a  great  many  things 
than  before  he  was  aware  of,  or  could  have  imagined.  Which 
of  these  two,  now,  is  most  likely  to  judge  right  in  our  rebgious 
controversies,  and  to  be  most  stored  with  truth,  the  mark  all 
pretend  to  aim  at  ?  All  these  men,  that  I  have  instanced  in,  thus 
unequally  furnished  with  truth,  and  advanced  in  knowledge,  I 
suppose  oi'  equal  natural  parts  ;  all  the  odds  between  them  has 
been  the  different  scope  that  has  been  given  to  their  understand- 
ings to  range  in,  for  the  gathering  up  of  information,  and  fur- 
nishing their  heads  with  ideas  and  notions  and  observations, 
whereon  to  employ  their  mind  and  form  their  understandings. 

It  will  possibly  be  objected,  "  who  is  sufficient  for  all  this  ?"  I 
answer,  more  than  can  be  imagined.  Every  one  knows  what  his 
proper  business  is,  and  what,  according  to  the  character  he  makes 
of  himself,  the  world  may  justly  expect  of  him  ;  and,  to  answer 
that,  he  will  find  he  will  have  time  and  opportunity  enough  to  fur- 
nish himself,  if  he  will  not  deprive  himself,  by  a  narrowness  of 
spirit,  of  those  helps  that  are  at  hand.  I  do  not  say,  to  be  a  good 
geographer,  that  a  man  should  visit  every  mountain,  river,  pro- 
montory, and  creek,  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  view  the  build- 
ings, and  survey  the  land  every  where,  as  if  he  were  going  to 
make  a  purchase  ;  but  yet  every  one  must  allow  that  he  shall 
know  a  country  better,  that  makes  often  sallies  into  it,  and  tra- 
verses up  and  down,  than  he  that,  like  a  mill-horse,  goes  still  round 
in  the  same  tract,  or  keeps  within  the  narrow  bounds  of  a  field 
or  two  that  delight  him.  I  Ic  that  will  inquire  out  the  best  books 
in  every  science,  and  inform  himself  of  the  most  material  authors 
of  the  several  sects  of  philosophy  and  religion,  will  not  find  it  an 
infinite  work  to  acquaint  himself  with  the  sentiments  of  man- 
kind, concerning  the  most  weighty  and  compr<  hensive  subjects. 
Let  him  exercise  the  Ireedpm  of  his  reason  and  understanding 
in  such  a  latitude  as  this,  and  his  mind  will  In'  strengthened,  his 
capacity  enlarged,  his  faculties  improved  ;  and  the  light,  which 
the  remote  and  scattered  parts  of  truth  will  give  to  one  another, 
will  so  assist  his  judgment,  that  he  will  seldom  be  widely  out,  or 
tniss  giving  proof  of  a  clear  head  and  a  comprehensive  know- 
ledge-.    At  leagt,  this  is  the  only-way  I  know  to  2,'ive  the  under- 


MiMil  i    I     .)!•      liir.    UNDERSTANDING.  „>GJ 

ling  its  due  improvement  to  the  Ad!  extent  of  its  capacity, 
and  to  distinguish  the  two  most  different  things  i  know  in  the 
world,  a  logical  chicaner  from  a  man  of  reason.  Only  he,  that 
would  thus  give  the  mind  its  flight,  and  send  abroad  his  inquiries 
into  all  parts  after  truth,  must  be  sure  to  settle  in  his  head  deter- 
mined ideas  of  all  that  he  employs  his  thoughts  about,  and  never 
fail  to  judge  himself,  and  judge  unbiassedly,  of  all  that  he  receives 
from  others,  either  in  their  writings  or  discourses-.  Reverence, 
or  prejudice  must  not  be  suffered  to  give  beauty  or  deformity  to 
any  of  their  opinions. 

§   4.     OK    RB  VCTICK   A\D   UUUTS. 

We  are  born  with  faculties  and  powers  capable  almost  of  any 
Thing,  such  at  least  as  would  carry  us  farther  than  can  easily  be 
imagined  :  but  it  is  only  the  exercise  of  those  powers  which 
gives  us  ability  and  skill  in  any  thing,  and  leads  us  towards  per- 
fection. 

A  middle-aged  ploughman  will  scarce  ever  be  brought  to  the 
carriage  and  language  of  a  gentleman,  though  his  body  be  as 
well  proportioned,  and  his  joints  as  supple,  and  his  natural  parts 
not  any  way  inferior.  The  legs  of  a  dancing-master,  and  the 
lingers  of  a  musician,  fall  as  it  were  naturally,  without  thought, 
or  pains,  into  regular  and  admirable  motions.  Bid  them  change- 
their  parts,  and  they  will  in  vain  endeavour  to  produce  like 
motions  in  the  members  not  used  to  them,  and  it  will  require 
length  of  time  and  long  practice  to  attain  hut  some  degrees 
of  a  like  ability.  What  incredible  and  astonishing  actions 
do  we  find  rope-dancers  and  tumblers  bring  their  bodies  to  ! 
Not  but  that  sundry,  in  alniost  all  manual  arts,  are  as  wonderful, 
but  I  name  those  which  the  world  takes  notice  of  for  such, 
because  on  that  very  account  they  give  money  to  sec  them. 
All  these  admired  motions,  beyond  the  reach  and  almost  con- 
ception of  unpractised  spectators,  are  nothing  but  the  mere 
effects  of  use  and  industry  in  men,  whose  bodies  have  nothing 
peculiar  in  them  from  those  of  the  amazed  lookers  on. 

As  it  is  in  the  body,  so  it  is  in  the  mind  ;  practice  makes  if 
what  it  is,  and  most  even  of  those  excellencies,  which  are  looked 
on  as  natural  endowments,willbefound,when  examined  into  more 
narrowly,  to  be  the  product  of  exercise,  and  to  be  raised  to  that 
pitch  only  by  repeated  actions.  Some  men  are  remarked  for 
pleasantness  in  raillery;  others  for  apologues  and  apposite  di- 
verting stories.  This  is  apt  to  be  taken  for  the  effect  of  pure 
nature,  and  that  the  rather,  because  it  is  not  got  by  rules,  and 
those  who  excel  in  either  of  them  never  purposely  set  them- 
selves to  the  study  of  it,  as  an  art  to  be  learnt.  But  yet  it  is 
true  that  at  first  some  lucky  hit,  which  took  with  somebody,  and 
gained  him  commendation,  encouraged  him  to  try  again,  inclined 
his  thoughts  and  endeavours  that  way,  till  at  last  he  insensibly  got. 
a  facility  in  it,  without  perceiving  how  ;  and  that  is  attributed 


ib'4  CO2JD0CT    OV    THE    UNDER&TAIS-DlJiG. 

wholly  to  nature,  which  was  much  more  the  effect  of  use  and 
practice.  I  do  not  deny  that  natural  disposition  may  often  give 
the  first  rise,  to  it,  but  that  never  carries  a  man  far,  without  use 
and  exercise  ;  and  it  is  practice  alone  that  brings  the  powers  of 
the  mind,  as  well  as  those  of  the  body,  to  their  perfection. 
Many  a  good  poetic  vein  is  buried  under  a  trade,  and  never  pro- 
duces any  thing  for  want  of  improvement.  We  see  the  ways  of 
discourse  and  reasoning  are  very  different,  even  concerning  the 
same  matter,  at  court  and  in  the  university.  And  he  that  will 
go  but  from  Westminster-hall  to  the  Exchange,  will  find  a  differ- 
ent genius  and  turn  in  their  ways  of  talking  ;  and  yet  one  can- 
not think  that  all  whose  lot  fell  in  the  city  were  born  with  dif- 
ferent parts  from  those  who  were  bred  at  the  university  or  inns 
of  court. 

To  what  purpose  all  this,  but  to  show  that  the  difference,  so 
observable  in  men's  understandings  and  parts,  does  not  arise  so 
much  from  their  natural  faculties  as  acquired  habits.  He  would 
be  laughed  at,  that  should  go  about  to  make  a  fine  dancer  out 
of  a  country  hedger,  at  past  fifty.  And  he  will  not  have  much 
better'  suecess,  who  shall  endeavour,  at  that  age,  to  make  a  man 
reason  well,  or  speak  handsomely,  who  has  never  been  used 
to  it,  though  you  should  lay  before  him  a  collection  of  all  the. 
best  precepts  of  logic  or  oratory.  Nobody  is  made  any  thing 
by  hearing  of  rules,  or  laying  them  up  in  his  memory  ;  practice 
must  settle  the  habit  of  doing,  without  reflecting  on  the  rule  ; 
and  you  may  as  well  hope  to  make  a  good  painter  or  musician 
extempore,  by  a  lecture  and  instruction  in  the  arts  of  music  and 
painting,  as  a  coherent  thinker,  or  a  strict  reasoner,  by  a  set  of 
rules  showing  him  wherein  right  reasoning  consists. 

This  being  so,  that  defects  and  weakness  in  men's  understand- 
ings, as  well  as  other-  faculties,  come  from  want  of  a  right  use 
of  their  own  minds  ;  I  am  apt  to  think  the  fault  is  generally 
mislaid  upon  nature,  and  there  is  often  a  complaint  of  want  of 
parts,  when  the  fault  lies  in  want  of  a  due  improvement  of  them. 
We  see  men  frequently  dexterous  and  sharp,  enough  in  making 
a  bargain,  who,  if  you  reason  with  them  about  matters  of  reli- 
gion, appear  perfectly  stupid. 

§  5.    IDEAS. 

I  will  not  here,  in  what  relates  to  the  right  conduct  and  im- 
provement of  the  understanding,  repeat  again  the  getting  clear 
and  determined  ideas,  and  the  employing  our  thoughts  rather 
about  them  than  about  sounds  put  for  them  ;  nor  of  settling  the 
signification  of  words,  which  we  use  with  ourselves  in  the  search 
of  truth,  or  with  others,  in  discoursing  about  it.  Those  hin- 
derances  of  our  understandings  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  1 
have  sufficiently  enlarged  upon  in  another  place  ;  so  that  nothing 
more  needs  here  to  be  said  of  those  matters. 


rOXDUCT    OF    THE    UNDERSTANDING.  265 

riUNCIl'LES. 

There  is  another  fault  that  stops  or  misleads  men  in  their 
knowledge,  which  I  have  also  spoken  something  of,  but  yet  is 
necessary  to  mention  here  again,  that  we  may  examine  it  to  the 
bottom,  and  see  the  root  it  springs  from  ;  and  that  is  a  custom 
of  taking  up  with  principles  that  are  not  self-evident,  and  very 
often  not  so  much  as  true.  It  is  not  unusual  to  see  men  rest 
their  opinions  upon  foundations  that  have  no  more  certainty  and 
solidity  than  the  propositions  built  on  them,  and  embraced  for 
their  sake.  Such  foundations  are  these  and  the  like,  viz. — the 
founders  or  leaders  of  my  party  are  good  men,  and  therefore  their 
tenets  are  true  ; — it  is  the  opinion  of  a  sect  that  is  erroneous, 
therefore  it  is  false  : — it  hath  been  long  received  in  the  world, 
therefore  it  is  true  ;  or — it  is  new,  and  therefore  false. 

These  and  many  the  like,  which  are  by  no  means  the  measures 
of  truth  and  falsehood,  the  generality  of  men  make  the  standards 
by  which  they  accustom  their  understanding  to  judge.  And 
thus,  they  falling  into  a  habit  of  determining  of  truth  and  false- 
hood by  such  wrong  measures,  it  is  no  wonder  they  should  em- 
brace error  for  certainty,  and  be  very  positive  in  things  they 
have  no  ground  for. 

There  is  not  any,  who  pretends  to  the  least  reason,  but,  when 
any  of  these  his  false  maxims  are  brought  to  the  test,  must  ac- 
knowledge them  to  be  fallible,  and  such  as  he  will  not  allow  in 
those  that  differ  from  him  ;  and  yet,  after  he  is  convinced  of  this, 
you  shall  see  him  go  on  in  the  use  of  then),  and,  the  very  next 
occasion  that  oilers,  argue  again  upon  the  same  grounds.  Would 
one  not  be  ready  to  think  that  men  arc  willing  to  impose  upon 
themselves  and  mislead  their  own  understandings,  who  conduct 
them  by  such  wrong  measures,  even  after  they  see  they  cannot 
be  relied  on  ?  But  yet  they  will  not  appear  so  blameable  as  may 
be  thought  at  first  sight ;  for  I  think  there  are  a  great  many  that, 
argue  thus  in  earnest,  and  do  it  not  to  impose  on  themselves  or 
others.  They  are  persuaded  of  what  they  say,  and  think  there 
is  weight  in  it,  though  in  a  like  case  they  have  been  convinced 
there  is  none  ;  but  men  would  be  intolerable  to  themselves,  and 
contemptible  to  others,  if  they  should  embrace  opinions  without 
any  ground,  and  hold  what  they  could  give  no  manner  of  reason 
for.  True  or  false,  solid  or  sand}',  the  mind  must  have  some 
foundation  to  rest  itself  upon  ;  and,  as  I  have  remarked  in  ano- 
ther place,  it  no  sooner  enh  rtaius  any  proposition,  but  it  pre- 
sently hastens  to  some  hypothesis  to  bottom  it  on  ;  till  thenit  is 
unquiet  and  unsettled.  So  much  do  our  own  very  tempers  dis- 
ns  lo  ;i  fight  e.se  of  our  understandings,  it'  we  would  follow. 
as  we  should,  the  inclinations  of  our  nature. 

In  some  matters  of  eoneerumeut,  especially  those  of  religion, 
men  are  not  permitted  to  be  always  wavering  and  uncertain  ; 
they  must  embrace  and  profess  some  tenets  or  Other;  and  it 
would  be  a  shame.  nav  a  eontradtefioa  too  heavy  tor  anv  one'- 


J66  CONDUCT    OP    THE    UNDERSTAND!!*.!. . 

mind  to  lie  constantly  under,  for  him  to  pretend  seriously  to  be 
persuaded  of  the  truth  of  any  religion,  and  yet  not  to  be  able  to 
give  any  reason  of  his  belief,  or  to  say  any  thing  for  his  prefer- 
ence of  this  to  any  other  opinion  :  and  therefore  they  must 
make  use  of  some  principles  or  other,  and.  those  can  be  no 
other  than  such  as  they  have  and  can  manage ;  and  to  say  they 
are  not  in  earnest  persuaded  by  them,  and  do  not  rest  upon 
those  they  make  use  of,  is  contrary  to  experience,  and  to  allege 
that  they  are  not  misled  when  we  complain  they  are. 

If  this  be  so,  it  will  be  urged,  why  then  do  they  not  make  use 
of  sure  and  unquestionable  principles,  rather  than  rest  on  such 
grounds  as  may  deceive  them,  and  will,  as  is  visible,  serve  to 
support  error  as  well  as  truth  ? 

To  this  I  answer,  the  reason  why  they  do  not  make  use  of 
better  and  surer  principles  is  because  they  cannot :  but  this  ina- 
bility proceeds  not  from  want  of  natural  parts  (for  those  few, 
whose  case  that  is,  are  to  be  excused,)  but  for  want  of  use  and 
exercise.  .  Few  men  are,  from  their  youth,  accustomed  to  strict 
reasoning,  and  to  trace  the  dependence  of  any  truth,  in  a  long 
train  of  consequences,  to  its  remotest  principles,  and  to  observe 
its  connexion ;  and  he  that  by  frequent  practice  has  not  been 
used  to  this  employment  of  his  understanding-,  it  is  no  more  won- 
der that  he  should  not,  when  he  is  grown  into  years,  be  able  to 
bring  his  mind  to  it,  than  that  he  should  not  be  on  a  sudden,  able 
to  grave  or  design,  dance  on  the  ropes  or  write  a  good  hand, 
who  has  never  practised  either  of  them. 

Nay,  the  most  of  men  are  so  wholly  strangers  to  this,  that 
they  do  not  so  much  as  perceive  their  want  of  it ;  they  despatch 
the  ordinary  business  of  their  callings  by  rote,  as  we  say,  as  they 
have,  learnt  it ;  and  if  at  any  time  they  miss  success,  they  impute, 
it  to  any  thing  rather  than  want  of  thought  or  skill ;  that  thev 
conclude  (because  they  know  no  better)  they  have  in  perfection: 
or,  if  there  be  any  subject  that  interest  or  fancy  has  recommend- 
ed to  their  thoughts,  their  reasoning  about  it  is  still  after  their 
own  fashion  ;  be  it  better  or  worse,  it  serves  their  turns,  and  is 
the  best  they  are  acquainted  with  ;  and,  therefore,  when  they 
are  led  by  it  into  mistakes,  and  their  business  succeeds  accor- 
dingly, they  impute  it  to  any  cross  accident  or  default  of  others, 
rather  than  to  their  own  want  of  understanding ;  that  is  what. 
nobody  discovers  or  complains  of  in  himself.  Whatsoever  made 
his  business  to  miscarry,  it  was  not  want  of  right  thought  and 
judgment  in  himself :  he  sees  no  such  defect  in  himself,  but  is 
satisfied  that  he  carries  on  his  designs  well  enough  by  his  own 
reasoning,  or  at  least  should  have  done,  had  it  not  been  for  un- 
lucky traverses  not  in  his  power.  Thus,  being  content  with  this 
short  and  very  imperfect  use  of  his  understanding,  he  never 
troubles  himself  to  seek  out  methods  of  improving  his  mind, 
and  lives  all  his  life  without  any  notion  of  close  reasoning,  in  a 
continued  connexion  of  a  lona;  train  of  consequences  from  sure 


CONDUCT    OF    THE    UNDERSTANDING.  2b'7 

foundations ;  such  as  is  requisite  for  the  making  out  and  clear- 
ing most  of  the  speculative  truths  most  men  own  to  believe,  and 
are  most  concerned  in.  Not  to  mention  here,  what  I  shall  have 
occasion  to  insist  on,  by  and  by,  more  fully,  viz,  that  in  many 
cases  it  is  not  one  series  of  consequences  will  serve  the  turn, 
but  many  different  and  opposite  deductions  must  be  examined 
and  laid  together,  before  a  man  can  come  to  make  a  right  judg- 
ment of  the  point  in  question.  What  then  can  be  expected 
from  men  that  neither  see  the  want  of  any  such  kind  of  reason- 
ing as  this  :  nor,  if  they  do,  know  how  to  set  about  it,  or  could 
perform  it  ?  You  may  as  well  set  a  countryman,  who  scarce 
knows  the  figures,  and  never  cast  up  a  sum  of  three  particulars, 
to  state  a  merchant's  long  account,  and  find  the  true  balance 
of  it. 

What  then  should  be  done  in  the  case  ?  I  answer,  we  should 
always  remember  what  I  said  above,  that  the  faculties  of  our 
^ouls  are  improved  and  made  useful  to  us  just  after  the  same 
manner  as  our  bodies  are.  Would  you  have  a  man  write  or 
paint,  dance  or  fence  well,  or  perform  any  other  manual  opera- 
tion  dexterously  and  with  ease;  let  him  have  ever  so  much 
vigour  and  activity,  suppleness  and  address  naturally,  yet  nobody 
expects  this  from  him,  unless  he  has  been  used  to  it,  and  has 
employed  time  and  pains  in  fashioning  and  forming  his  hand,  or 
outward  parts  to  these  motions.  Just  so  it  is  in  the  mind  : 
would  you  have  a  man  reason  well,  you  must  use  him  to  it  be- 
times, exercise  his  mind  in  observing  the  connexion  of  ideas, 
and  following  them  in  train.  Nothing  does  this  better  than 
mathematics,  which,  therefore,  I  think  should  be  taught  all  those 
who  have  the  time  and  opportunity  ;  not  so  much  to  make  them 
mathematicians,  as  to  make  them  reasonable  creatures  ;  for 
though  we  all  call  ourselves  so,  because  we  are  born  to  it,  if  we 
please ;  yet  we  may  truly  say,  nature  gives  us  but  the  seeds  of  it : 
we  are  born  to  be,  if  we  please,  rational  creatures  ;  but  it  is  use 
and  exercise  only  that  make  us  so,  and  we  are,  indeed,  so  no 
farther  than  industry  and  application  have  carried  us.  And, 
therefore,  in  ways  of  reasoning,  which  men  have  not  been  used 
to,  he  that  will  observe  the  conclusions  they  take  up,  must  be 
satisfied  they  are  not  all  rational. 

This  has  been  the  less  taken  notice  of,  because  every  one,  in 
his  private  affairs,  uses  some  sort  of  reasoning  or  other,  enough 
to  denominate  him  reasonable.  But  the  mistake  is,  that  he  that 
is  found  reasonable  in  one  thing  is  concluded  to  be  so  in  all,  and 
to  think  or  to  say  otherwise  is  thought  so  unjust  an  affront,  and 
30  Senseless  a  censure,  that  nobody  ventures  to  do  it.  It  looks 
like  the  degradation  of  a  man  below  the  dignity  of  his  nature. 
It  is  true,  that  he  that  reasons  well  in  any  one  thing  has  a  mind 
naturally  callable  of  reasoning  well  in  others,  and  to  the  same 
degree  of  strength  and  clearness,  and  possibly  much  greater, 
liad  his  understanding  been  so  eimploy<  ft.      Bui  it  is  as  true  that. 


268  COKDUCT  OF  THE  (JNDEltSTANDING. 

lie  who  can  reason  well  to-day  about  one  sort  of  matters,  can- 
not at  all  reason  to-day  about  others,  though  perhaps  a  year 
hence  he  may.  But  wherever  a  man's  rational  faculty  fails  him, 
and  will  not  serve  him  to  reason,  there  we  cannot  say  he  is  ra- 
tional, how  capable  soever  he  may  be,  by  time  and  exercise,  to 
become  so. 

Try  in  men  of  low  and  mean  education,  who  have  never  ele- 
vated their  thoughts  above  the  spade  and  the  plough,  nor  looked 
beyond  the  ordinary  drudgery  of  a  day-labourer.  Take  the 
thoughts  of  such  an  one,  used  for  many  years  to  one  track,  out 
of  that  narrow  compass,  he  has  been  all  his  life  confined  to,  you 
will  find  him  no  more  capable  of  reasoning  than  almost  a  perfect, 
natural.  Some  one  or  two  rules,  on  which  their  conclusions 
immediately  depend,  you  will  find  in  most  men  have  governed 
all  their  thoughts  ;  these,  true  or  false,  have  been  the  maxims 
they  have  been  guided  by :  take  these  from  them,  and  they  are 
perfectly  at  a  loss,  their  compass  and  pole-star  then  are  gone, 
and  their  understanding  is  perfectly  at  a  nonplus  ;  and  therefore 
they  either  immediately  return  to  their  old  maxims  again,  as  the 
foundations  of  all  truth  to  them,  notwithstanding  all  that  can  be 
said  to  show  their  weakness  ;  or  if  they  give  them  up  to  their 
reasons,  they,  with  them,  give  up  all  truth  and  farther  inquiry, 
and  think  there  is  no  such  thing  as  certainty.  For  if  you  would 
enlarge  their  thoughts,  and  settle  them  upon  more  remote  and 
surer  principles,  they  either  cannot  easily  apprehend  them  ;  or, 
if  they  can,  know  not  what  use  to  make  of  them ;  for  long  de- 
ductions from  remote  principles  are  what  they  have  not  been 
used  to,  and  cannot  manage. 

What  then,  can  grown  men  never  be  improved,  or  enlarged 
in  their  understandings  ?  I  say  not  so  ;  but  this  I  think  I  may 
say,  that  it  will  not  be  done  without  industry  and  application, 
which  will  require  more  time  and  pains  than  grown  men,  settled 
in  their  course  of  life,  will  allow  to  it,  and  therefore  very  sel- 
dom is  done.  And  this  very  capacity  of  attaining  it,  by  use  and 
exercise  only,  brings  us  back  to  that  which  I  laid  down  before, 
that  it  is  only  practice  that  improves  our  minds  as  well  as  bodies, 
and  we  must  expect  nothing  from  our  understandings,  any  far- 
ther than  they  are  perfected  by  habits. 

The  Americans  are  not  all  born  with  worse  understandings 
than  the  Europeans,  though  we  see  none  of  them  have  such 
reaches  in  the  arts  and  sciences.  And,  among  the  children  of 
a  poor  countryman,  the  lucky  chance  of  education,  and  getting 
into  the  world,  gives  one  infinitely  the  superiority  in  parts  over 
the  rest,  who,  continuing  at  home,  had  continued  also  just  of 
the  same  size  with  his  brethren. 

He  that  has  to  do  with  young  scholars,  especially  in  mathe- 
matics, may  perceive  how  their  minds  open  by  degrees,  and  how 
::  is  exercise  alone  that,  opens  them.      Sometimes  they  will  stick 


CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  ilif.t 

8  long  (hue  at  a  part  of  demonstration,  not  for  want  of  will  ami 
application,  but  realty  for  want  of  perceiving  the  connexion  of 
two  ideas,  that,  to  one  whose  understanding  is  more  exercised, 
is  as  visible  as  any  thing  can  be.  The  same  would  be  with  a 
grown  man  beginning  to  study  mathematics  ;  the  understanding, 
for  want  of  use,  often  sticks  in  every  plain  way,  and  he  himself 
that  is  so  puzzled,  when  he  comes  to  see  the  connexion,  wonders 
what  it  was  he  stuck  at,  in  a  case  so  plain. 

§  7.  MATHEMATICS. 

I  have  mentioned  mathematics  as  a  way  to  settle  in  the  mind 
a  habit  of  reasoning  closely  and  in  train;  not  that  I  think  it 
necessary  that  all  men  should  be  deep  mathematicians,  but  that . 
having  got  the  way  of  reasoning,  which  that  study  necessarily 
brings  the  mind  to,  they  might  be  able  to  transfer  it  to  other  parts 
of  knowledge,  as  they  shall  have  occasion.  For,  in  all  sorts  of 
reasoning,  every  single  argument  should  be  managed  as  a  mathe- 
matical demonstration:  the  connexion  and  dependence  of  ideas 
should  be  followed,  till  the  mind  is  brought  to  the  source  on 
which  it  bottoms,  and  observes  the  coherence  all  along,  though 
in  proofs  of  probability  one  such  train  is  not  enough  to  settle  the 
judgment,  as  in  demonstrative  knowledge. 

Where  a  truth  is  made  out  by  one  demonstration,  there  needs  no 
farther  inquiry  ;  but  in  probabilities,  where  there  wants  demonstra- 
tion to  establish  the  truth  beyond  doubt,  there  it  is  not  enough  to 
trace  one  argument  to  its  source,  and  observe  its  strength  and 
weakness,  but  all  the  arguments,  after  having  been  so  examined  on 
both  sides,  must  be  laid  in  balance  one  against  another,  and. 
upon  the  whole,  the  understanding  determine  its  assent. 

This  is  a  way  of  reasoning  the  understanding  should  be  ac- 
customed to,  which  is  so  different  from  what  the  illiterate  are 
used  to,  that  even  learned  men  oftentimes  seem  to  have  verv 
little  or  no  notion  of  it.  Nor  is  it  to  be  wondered,  since  the  way 
of  disputing,  in  the  schools,  leads  them  quite  away  from  it,  by 
insisting  on  one  topical  argument,  by  the  success  of  which  the 
truth  or  falsehood  of  the  question  is  to  be  determined,  and  vic- 
tory adjudged  to  the  opponent  or  defendant;  which  is  all  one  as 
if  one  should  balance  an  account  by  one  sum,  charged  and  dis- 
charged, when  there  are  an  hundred  others  to  be  taken  into 
consideration. 

This,  therefore,  it  would  be  well  if  men's  minds  were  ac- 
customed to,  and  that  early ;  that  they  might  not  erect  their 
opinions  upon  one  single  view,  when  so  many  other  are  requisite 
to  make  up  the  account,  and  must  come  into  the  reckoning,  be- 
fore a  man  can  form  a  right  judgment.  This  would  enlarge 
their  minds,  and  give  a  due  freedom  to  their  understandings,  that 
they  might  not  be  led  into  error  by  presumption,  laziness,  or 
precipitancy  ;  for  I  think  nobody  can  approve  such  a  conduct 
Vol.  II.  35 


1J70  CONDUCT    OF    THE    UNDERSTANDING. 

of  the  understanding  as  should  mislead  it  from  truth,  though  it  be 
ever  so  much  in  fashion  to  make  use  of  it. 

To  this  perhaps  it  will  be  objected,  that  to  manage  the  under- 
standing as  I  propose  would  require  every  man  to  be  a  scholar, 
and  to  be  furnished  with  all  the  materials  of  knowledge,  and 
exercised  in  all  the  ways  of  reasoning.  To  which  I  answer, 
that  it  is  a  shame  for  those  that  have  time,  and  the  means  to 
attain  knowledge,  to  want  any  helps  or  assistance,  for  the  im- 
provement of  their  understandings,  that  are  to  be  got ;  and  to 
such  I  would  be  thought  here  chiefly  to  speak.  Those  methinks 
who,  by  the  industry  and  parts  of  their  ancestors,  have  been 
set  free  from  a  constant  drudgery  to  their  backs  and  their  bellies, 
should  bestow  some  of  their  spare  time  on  their  heads,  and  open 
their  minds,  by  some  trials  and  essays,  in  all  the  sorts  and  matters 
of  reasoning.  I  have  before  mentioned  mathematics,  wherein 
algebra  gives  new  helps  and  views  to  the  understanding.  If  I 
propose  these,  it  is  not,  as  I  said,  to  make  every  man  a  thorough 
mathematician,  or  a  deep  algebraist ;  but  yet  I  think  the  study  of 
them  is  of  infinite  use,  even  to  grown  men;  first,  by  experi- 
mentally convincing  them,  that  to  make  any  one  reason  well,  it 
is  not  enough  to  have  parts  wherewith  he  is  satisfied,  and  that 
serve  him  well  enough  in  his  ordinary  course.  A  man  in  those 
studies  will  see,  that  however  good  he  may  think  his  under- 
standing, yet  in  many  things,  and  those  very  visible,  it  may  fail 
him.  This  would  take  off  that  presumption  that  most  men  have 
of  themselves  in  this  part ;  and  they  would  not  be  so  apt  to 
think  their  minds  wanted  no  helps  to  enlarge  them,  that  there 
could  be  nothing  added  to  the  acuteness  and  penetration  of  their 
understandings. 

Secondly,  the  study  of  mathematics  would  show  them  the 
necessity  there  is  in  reasoning,  to  separate  all  the  distinct  ideas, 
and  see  the  habitudes  that  all  those  concerned  in  the  present  in- 
quiry have  to  one  another,  and  to  lay  by  those  which  relate  not 
to  the  proposition  in  hand,  and  wholly  to  leave  them  out  of  the 
reckoning.  This  is  that  which  in  other  subjects,  besides  quan- 
tity, is  what  is  absolutely  requisite  to  just  reasoning,  though  in 
them  it  is  not  so  easily  observed,  nor  so  carefully  practised.  In 
those  parts  of  knowledge  where  it  is  thought  demonstration  has 
nothing  to  do,  men  reason  as  it  were  in  the  lump  ;  and  if,  upon  a 
summary  and  confused  view,  or  upon  a  partial  consideration, 
they  can  raise  the  appearance  of  a  probability,  they  usually  rest, 
content  ;  especially  if  it  be  in  a  dispute  where  every  little  straw 
is  laid  hold  on,  and  every  thing  that  can  but  be  drawn  in  any 
way  to  give  colour  to  the  argument  is  advanced  with  ostenta- 
tion. But  that  mind  is  not  in  a  posture  to  find  the  truth,  that 
does  not  distinctly  take  all  the  parts  asunder,  and,  omitting  what 
is  not  at  all  to  the  point,  draw  a  conclusion  from  the  result  of 
all  the  particulars  which  any  way  influence  it.  There  is  ano- 
ther no  less  useful  habit  to  be  got  by  an  application  to  mathema- 


•  0ND1  I    i     01     i  HE    i  NDERS  1  \mum.  2't  I 

Vu:al  demonstrations,  ami  that  is,  of  using  the  mind  to  a  long 
train  of  consequences  ;   but  having  mentioned  that  already,  1 
shall  not  again  here  repeat  it. 

As  to  men  whose  fortunes  and  time  are  narrower,  what  may 
suffice  them  is  not  of  that  vast  extent  as  may  be  imagined,  and 
so  comes  not  within  the  objection. 

Nobody  is  under  an  obligation  to  know  every  thing.  Know- 
ledge and  science  in  general  is  the  business  only  of  those 
who  are  at  ease  and  leisure.  Those  who  have  particular  call- 
ings ought  to  understand  them ;  and  it  is  no  unreasonable  propo- 
sal, nor  impossible  to  be  compassed,  that  they  should  think  and 
reason  right  about  what  is  their  daily  employment.  This  one 
cannot  think  them  incapable  of,  without  levelling  them  with  the 
brutes,  and  charging  them  with  a  stupidity  below  the  rank  of 
rational  creatures. 

§  8.    RELIGION. 

Besides  his  particular  calling  for  the  support  of  this  life,  every 
one  has  a  concern  in  a  future  life,  which  he  is  bound  to  look 
after.  This  engages  his  thoughts  in  religion  ;  and  here  it  mightil  v 
lies  upon  him  to  understand  and  reason  right.  Men,  therefore, 
cannot  be  excused  from  understanding  the  words,  and  framing 
the  general  notions  relating  to  religion,  right.  The  one  day  of 
seven,  besides  other  days  of  rest,  allows  in  the  Christian  world 
time  enough  for  this  (had  they  no  other  idle  hours)  if  they 
would  but  make  use  of  these  vacancies  from  their  daily  labour, 
and  apply  themselves  to  an  improvement  of  knowledge  with  as 
much  diligence  as  they  often  do  to  a  great  many  other  things 
that  are  useless,  and  had  but  those  that  would  enter  them  accord- 
ing to  their  several  capacities  in  a  right  way  to  this  knowledge. 
The  original  make  of  their  minds  is  like  that  of  other  men,  and 
they  would  be  found  not  to  want  understanding  lit  to  receive  the 
knowledge  of  religion,  if  they  were  a  little  encouraged  and 
helped  in  it,  as  they  should  be.  For  there  are  instances  of  very 
mean  people,  who  have  raised  their  minds  to  a  great  sense  and 
understanding  of  religion  :  and  though  these  have  not  been  so 
frequent  as  could  be  wished  ;  yet  they  are  enough  to  clear  that 
condition  of  life  from  a  necessity  of  gross  ignorance,  and  to  show 
that  more  might  be  brought  to  be  rational  creatures  and  Chris- 
tians (for  they  can  hardly  be  thought  really  to  be  so,  who, 
wearing  the  name,  know  not  so  much  as  the  very  principles  of 
that  religion)  if  due  care  were  taken  of  them.  For,  if  I  mistake 
not,  the  peasantry  lately  in  France  (a  rank  of  people  under  a 
much  heavier  pressure  of  want  and  poverty  than  the  day-labour- 
ers in  England)  of  the  reformed  religion  understood  it  much 
better,  and  could  say  more  for  it  than  those  of  a  higher  condi- 
tion among  us. 

But  if  it  shall  be  concluded  that  the  meaner  sort  of  people 
must  arive  themselves  up  to  brutish  stupidity  in  the  things  of 


i/sj  CONDUCT    OF    THi:    l.NUEKSIAMJLNt , 

their  nearest  concernment,  which  I  see  no  reason  lor,  this  ex- 
cuses not  those  of  a  freer  fortune  and  education,  if  they  neglect 
their  understandings,  and  take  no  care  to  employ  them  as  they 
ought,  and  set  them  right  in  the  knowledge  of  those  things  for 
which  principally  they  were  given  them.  At  least  those,  whose 
plentiful  fortunes  allow  them  the  opportunities  and  helps  of  im- 
provements, are  not  so  few,  but  that  it  might  be  hoped  great 
advancements  might  be  made  in  knowledge  of  ali  kinds,  espe- 
cially in  that  of  the  greatest  concern  and  largest  views,  if  men 
would  make  a  right  use  of  their  faculties,  and  study  their  own 
understandings. 

§9.    IDEAS. 

Outward  corporeal  objects,that  constantly  importune  our  senses 
and  captivate  our  appetites,  fail  not  to  fill  our  heads  with  lively 
and  lasting  ideas  of  that  kind.     Here  the  mind  needs  not  to  be 
set  upon  getting  greater  store  ;  they  offer  themselves  fast  enough, 
and  are  usually  entertained  in  such  plenty,  and  lodged  so  care- 
fully, that  the  mind  wants  room  or  attention  for  others  that  it 
has  more  use  and  need  of.     To  fit  the  understanding,  therefore, 
for  such  reasoning  as  I  have  been  above  speaking  of,  care  should 
be  taken  to  fill  it  with  moral  and  more  abstract  ideas  ;  for  these 
not  offering  themselves  to  the  senses,  but  being  to  be  framed  to 
the  understanding,  people  are  generally  so  neglectful  of  a  fa- 
culty they  are  apt  to  think  wants  nothing,  that  I  fear  most  men's 
minds  are  more  unfurnished  with  such  ideas  than  is  imagined. 
They  often  use  the  words,  and  how  can  they  be  suspected  to 
want  the  ideas  ?  What  I  have  said  in  the  third  book  of  my  Es- 
say will  excuse  me  from  any  other  answer  to  this  question.     But 
to  convince  people  of  what  moment  it  is  to  their  understandings 
to  be  furnished  with  such  abstract  ideas,  steady  and  settled  in 
them,  give  me  leave  to  ask,  how  any  one  shall  be  able  to  know 
whether  he  be  obliged  to  be  just,  if  he  has  not  established  ideas 
in  his  mind  of  obligation  and  of  justice  ;  since  knowledge  con- 
sists in  nothing  but  the.  perceived  agreement  or  disagreement  of 
those  ideas?  and  so  of  all  others  the  like,  which  concern  our 
lives  and  manners.     And  if  men  do  find  a  difficulty  to  see  the 
agreement  or  disagreement  of  two  angles,  which  lie  before  their 
eyes  unalterable  in  a  diagram  ;  how  utterly  impossible  will  it  be 
to  perceive  it  in  ideas  that  have  no  other  sensible  object  to  re- 
present them  to  the  mind  but  sounds  ;  with  which  they  have  no 
manner  of  conformity,  and  therefore  had  need  to  be  clearly 
settled  in  the  mind  themselves,  if  we  would  make  any  clear 
judgment  about  them.     This,  therefore,  is  one  of  the  first  things 
the  mind  should  be  employed  about,  in  the  right  conduct  of  the 
understanding,  without  which  it  is  impossible  it  should  be  capa- 
ble of  reasoning  right  about  those  matters.     But  in  these,  and 
all  other  ideas,  care  must  be  taken  that  they  harbour  no  incon- 
sistencies, and  that  they  have  a  real  existence  where  real  exist- 


oNDUCT    OF    THE    UNDERSTANDING.  i*.i 

cnce  is  supposed  ;  and  are  not  mere  chimeras  with  a  supposed 
•existence. 

§    10.    PREJUDICE. 

Every  one  is  forward  to  complain  of  the  prejudices  that  mis- 
lead other  men  or  parties,  as  if  he  were  free,  and  had  none  of 
his  own.  This  being  objected  on  all  sides,  it  is  agreed  that  it  is- 
a  fault  and  an  hinderance  to  knowledge.  What  now  is  the  cure  ? 
No  other  but  this,  that  every  man  should  let  alone  others'  pre- 
judices, and  examine  his  own.  Nobody  is  convinced  of  his  by 
the  accusation  of  another :  he  recriminates  by  the  same  rule, 
and  is  clear.  The  only  way  to  remove  this  great  cause  of  ig- 
norance and  error  out  of  the  world  is,  for  every  one  impartially 
to  examine  himself.  If  others  will  not  deal  fairly  with  their  own 
minds,  does  that  make  my  errors  truths  ?  or  ought  it  to  make 
me  in  love  with  them,  and  willing  to  impose  on  myself?  If 
others  love  cataracts  in  their  eyes,  should  that  hinder  me  from 
couching  of  mine  as  soon  as  I  can.  Every  one  declares  against 
blindness,  and  yet  who  almost  is  not  fond  of  that  which  dims 
his  sight,  and  keeps  the  clear  light  out  of  his  mind,  which  should 
lead  him  into  truth  and  knowledge  ?  False  or  doubtful  positions, 
relied  upon  as  unquestionable  maxims,  keep  those  in  the  dark 
from  truth  who  build  on  them.  Such  are  usually  the  prejudices 
imbibed  from  education,  party,  reverence,  fashion,  interest,  &c. 
This  is  the  mote  which  every  one  sees  in  his  brother's  eye,  but 
never  regards  the  beam  in  his  own.  For  who  is  there  almost 
that  is  ever  brought  fairly  to  examine  his  own  principles,  and  see 
whether  they  are  such  as  will  bear  the  trial  ?  But  yet  this  should 
be  one  of  the  first  things  every  one  should  set  about,  and  be 
scrupulous  in,  who  would  rightly  conduct  his  understanding  in 
the  search  of  truth  and  knowledge. 

To  those  who  are  willing  to  get  rid  of  this  great  hinderance  of 
knowledge,  (for  to  such  only  I  write)  to  those  who  would  shake 
off  this  great  and  dangerous  impostor,  prejudice,  who  dresses 
up  falsehood  in  the  likeness  of  truth,  and  so  dexterously  hood- 
winks men's  minds,  as  to  keep  them  in  the  dark,  with  a  belief 
that  they  are  more  in  the  light  than  any  that  do  not  see  with 
their  eyes, — I  shall  offer  this  one  mark  whereby  prejudice  may 
be  known.  He  that  is  strongly  of  any  opinion  must  sup- 
pose (unless  he  be  self-condemned)  that  his  persuasion  is  built 
upon  good  grounds  ;  and  that  his  assent  is  no  greater  than  what 
the  evidence  of  the  truth  beholds  forces  him  to  ;  and  that  they 
are  arguments,  and  not  inclination,  or  fancy,  that  make  him  so 
confident  and  positive  m  his  tenets.  Now  if,  after  all  his  profes- 
sion, he  cannot  bearany  opposition  to  his  opinion,  if  he  cannot 
so  much  as  giv.e  a  patient  hearing,  much  less  examine  and  weigh 
the  arguments  on  the  other  side,  does  he  not  plainly  confess  it 
is  prejudice  governs  him  ?  and  it  is  not  the  evidence  of  truth,  but 
some  lazy  anticipation,  some   beloved  presumption,  that  he  dr- 


2M  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 

sires  to  rest  undisturbed  in.  For,  if  what  he  holds  be,  as  he 
gives  out,  well  fenced  with  evidence,  and  he  sees  it  to  be  true, 
what  need  he  fear  to  put  it  to  the.  proof  ?  If  his  opinion  be 
settled  upon  a  firm  foundation,  if  the  arguments  that  support  it, 
and  have  obtained  his  assent,  be  clear,  good,  and  convincing, 
why  should  he  be  shy  to  have  it  tried  whether  they  be  proof  or 
not  ?  He  whose  assent  goes  beyond  this  evidence,  owes  this 
excess  of  his  adherence  only  to  prejudice,  and  does  in  effect 
own  it,  when  he  refuses  to  hear  what  is  offered  against  it ;  declar- 
ing thereby  that  it  is  not  evidence  he  seeks,  but  the  quiet  enjoy- 
ment of  the  opinion  he  is  fond  of,  with  a  forward  condemnation 
of  all  that  may  stand  in  opposition  to  it,  unheard  and  unexamined ; 
which,  wThat  is  it  but  prejudice  ?  qui  cequum  statuerit,  parte  inau- 
dit !  alter  etiamsi  cequum  statuerit,  hand  aquus  fuerit.  He  that 
would  acquit  himself  in  this  case  as  a  lover  of  truth,  not  giving 
way  to  any  pre-occupation  or  bias  that  may  mislead  him,  must 
do  two  things  that  are  not  very  common  nor  very  easy. 

§11.    INDIFFERENCY. 

First,  he  must  not  be  in  love  with  any  opinion,  or  wish  it  to 
be  true,  till  he  knows  it  to  be  so,  and  then  he  will  not  need  to 
wish  it ;  for  nothing  that  is  false  can  deserve  our  good  wishes, 
nor  a  desire  that  it  should  have  the  place  and  force  of  truth ; 
and  yet  nothing  is  more  frequent  than  this.  Men  are  fond  of 
certain  tenets  upon  no  other  evidence  but  respect  and  custom, 
and  think  they  must  maintain  them,  or  all  is  gone  ;  though  they 
have  never  examined  the  ground  they  stand  on,  nor  have  ever 
made  them  out  to  themselves,  or  can  make  them  out  to  others  : 
we  should  contend  earnestly  for  the  truth,  but  we  should  first  be 
sure  that  it  is  truth,  or  else  we  fight  against  God,  who  is  the  God 
of  truth,  and  do  the  work  of  the  devil,  who  is  the  father  and 
propagator  of  lies  ;  and  our  zeal,  though  ever  so  warm,  will  not 
excuse  us,  for  this  is  plainly  prejudice.    . 

§    12.     EXAMINE. 

Secondly,  he  must  do  that  which  he  will  find  himself  very 
averse  to,  as  judging  the  thing  unnecessary,  or  himself  incapable 
of  doing  it.  He  must  try  whether  his  principles  be  certainly 
true,  or  not,  and  how  far  he  may  safely  rely  upon  them.  This, 
whether  fewer  have  the  heart  or  the  skill  to  do,  I  shall  not 
determine  ;  but  this,  I  am  sure,  is  that  which  every  one  ought  to 
do,  who  professes  to  love  truth,  and  would  not  impose  upon 
himself;  which  is  a  surer  way  to  be  made  a  fool  of  than  by  being 
exposed  to  the  sophistry  of  others.  The  disposition  to  put  any 
cheat  upon  ourselves  works  constantly,  and  we  are  pleased  with 
it,  but  are  impatient  of  being  bantered  or  misled  by  others.  The 
inability  I  here  speak  of  is  not  any  natural  defect  that  makes 
men  incapable  of  examining  their  own  principles.  To  such, 
rules  of  conducting  their  understandings  are  useless  :  and  that 


CONDUCT    OK    THE    UNDERSTANDING.  275 

is  the  case  of  very  few.  The  great  number  is  of  those  whom 
the  ill  habit  of  never  exerting  their  thoughts  has  disabled  ;  the 
powers  of  their  minds  are  starved  by  disuse,  and  have  lost  that 
reach  and  strength  which  nature  fitted  them  to  receive  from  ex- 
ercise. Those  who  are  in  a  condition  to  learn  the  first  rules  of 
plain  arithmetic,  and  could  be  brought  to  cast  up  an  ordinary 
sum,  are  capable  of  this,  if  they  had  but  accustomed  their  minds 
to  reasoning  :  but  they  that  have  wholly  neglected  the  exercise 
of  their  understandings  in  this  way,  will  be  very  far,  at  first,  from 
being  able  to  do  it,  and  as  unfit  for  it  as  one  unpractised  in 
figures  to  cast  up  a  shop-book,  and,  perhaps,  think  it  as  strange 
to  be  set  about  it.  And  yet  it  must  nevertheless  be  confessed 
to  be  a  wrong  use  of  our  understandings,  to  build  our  tenets  (in 
things  where  we  are  concerned  to  hold  the  truth)  upon  princi- 
ples that  may  lead  us  into  error.  We  take  our  principles  at  hap- 
hazard, upon  trust,  and  without  ever  having  examined  them,  and 
then  believe  a  whole  system,  upon  a  presumption  that  they  are 
true  and  solid  ;  and  what  is  all  this,  but  childish,  shameful, 
senseless  credulity  ? 

In  these  two  things,  viz.  an  equal  indifterency  for  all  truth  ; 
I  mean  the  receiving  it,  the  love  of  it,  as  truth,  but  not  loving  it 
for  any  other  reason,  before  we  know  it  to  be  true  ;  and  in  the 
examination  of  our  principles,  and  not  receiving  any  for  such, 
nor  building  on  them,  till  we  are  fully  convinced,  as  rational 
creatures,  of  their  solidity,  truth,  and  certainty  ;  consists  that 
freedom  of  the  understanding  which  is  necessary  to  a  rational 
creature,  and  without  which  it  is  not  truly  an  understanding.  It 
is  conceit,  fancy,  extravagance,  any  thing  rather  than  under- 
standing, if  it  must  be  under  the  constraint  of  receiving  and 
holding  opinions  by  the  authority  of  any  thing  but  their  owrn, 
not  fancied,  but  perceived,  evidence.  This  was  rightly  called 
imposition,  and  is  of  all  other  the  worst  and  most  dangerous  sort 
of  it.  For  we  impose  upon  ourselves,  which  is  the  strongest 
imposition  of  all  others  ;  and  we  impose  upon  ourselves  in  that 
part  which  ought  with  the  greatest  care  to  be  kept  free  from  all 
imposition.  The  world  is  apt  to  cast  great  blame  on  those  who 
have  an  indifterency  for  opinions,  especially  in  religion.  I  fear 
this  is  the  foundation  of  great  error  and  worse  consequences. 
To  be  indilferent  which  of  two  opinions  is  true,  is  the  right  tem- 
per of  the  mind  that  preserves  it  from  being  imposed  on,  and 
disposes  it  to  examine  with  that  indifferency,  till  it  has  done  its 
best  to  find  the  truth,  and  this  is  the  only  direct  and  safe  way  to  it. 
But  to  be  indifferent  whether  we  embrace  falsehood  or  truth,  is 
the  great  road'to  error.  Those  who  are  not  indifferent  which 
opinion  is  true,  are  guilty  of  this  ;  they  suppose  without  exami- 
ning, that  what  they  hold  is  true,  and  they  think  they  ought  to^j 
be  zealous  for  it.  Those,  it  is  plain  by  their  warmth  and  eager-  * 
ness,  are  not  indifferent  for  their  own  opinions,  but  methiriks  I 
•ir<>  very  indifferent  whether  they  be  true  or  false  :  since  thev 


276  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 

cannot  endure  to  have  any  doubts  raised,  or  objections  made 
against  them  ;  and  it  is  visible  they  never  have  made  any  them- 
selves, and  so,  never  having-  examined  them,  know  not,  nor  are 
concerned,  as  they  should  be,  to  know  whether  they  be  true  or 
false. 

These  are  the  common  and  most  general  miscarriages  which 
I  think  men  should  avoid,  or  rectify,  in  a  right  conduct  of  their 
understandings,  and  should  be  particularly  taken  care  of  in  edu- 
cation. The  business  whereof,  in  respect  of  knowledge,  is  not, 
as  I  think,  to  perfect  a  learner  in  all  or  any  one  of  the  sciences, 
but  to  give  his  mind  that  freedom,  that  disposition,  and  those 
habits,  that  may  enable  him  to  attain  any  part  of  knowledge  he 
shall  apply  himself  to,  or  stand  in  need  of  in  the  future  course  of 
his  life. 

This,  and  this  only,  is  well  principling,  and  not  the  instilling" 
a  reverence  and  veneration  for  certain  dogmas,  under  the  spe- 
cious title  of  principles,  which  are  often  so  remote  from  that 
truth  and  evidence  which  belongs  to  principles,  that  they  ought 
to  be  rejected,  as  false  and  erroneous  ;  and  often  cause  men  so 
educated,  when  they  come  abroad  into  the  world,  and  find  they 
cannot  maintain  the  principles  so  taken  up  and  rested  in,  to  cast 
off  all  principles,  and  turn  perfect  skeptics,  regardless  of  know- 
ledge and  virtue. 

There  are  several  weaknesses  and  defects  in  the  understand- 
ing, either  from  the  natural  temper  of  the  mind,  or  ill  habits 
taken  up,  which  hinder  it  in  its  progress  to  knowledge.  Of 
these,  there  are  as  many,  possibly,  to  be  found,  if  the  mind  were 
thoroughly  studied,  as  there  are  diseases  of  the  body,  each 
whereof  clogs  and  disables  the  understanding  to  some  degree, 
and  therefore  deserves  to  be  looked  after  and  cured.  I  shall 
set  down  some  few  to  excite  men,  especially  those  who  make 
knowledge  their  business,  to  look  into  themselves,  and  observe 
whether  they  do  not  indulge  some  weaknesses,  allow  some  mis- 
carriages in  the  management  of  their  intellectual  faculty,  which 
is  prejudicial  to  them  in  the  search  of  truth. 

§  13.    OBSERVATIONS. 

Particular  matters  of  fact  are  the  undoubted  foundations  on 
which  our  civil  and  natural  knowledge  is  built :  the  benefit  the 
understanding  makes  of  them  is  to  draw  from  them  conclusions, 
which  may  be  as  standing  rules  of  knowledge,  and  consequently 
of  practice.  The  mind  often  makes  not  that  benefit  it  should 
of  the  information  it  receives  from  the  accounts  of  civil  or  natu- 
ral historians,  by  being  too  forward  or  too  slow  in  making 
observations  on  the  particular  facts  recorded  in  them, 
i  There  are  those  who  are  very  assiduous  in  reading,  and  yet 
•io  not  much  advance  their  knowledge  by  it.  They  are  delighted* 
with  the  stories  that  are  told,  and  perhaps  can  tell  them  again, 
for  they  make  all  they  read  nothing  but  history  to  themselves ; 


COSDUG7  OF    MIL'   L.VnEKSTA.NDl.V,..  2?? 

but  not  reflecting  on  it,  not  making-  to  themselves  observations 
from  what  they  read,  they  are  very  little  improved  by  all  that 
crowd  of  particulars,  that  either  pass  through,  or  lodge  them- 
selves in  their  understandings.  They  dream  on  in  a  constant 
course  of  reading  and  cramming  themselves ;  but  not  digesting 
any  thing,  it  produces  nothing  but  a  heap  of  crudities. 

If  their  memories  retain  well,  one  may  say,  they  have  the 
materials  of  knowledge  ;  but,  like,  those  for  building,  they  are 
of  no  advantage,  if  there  be  no  other  use  made  of  them  but  to 
let  them  lie  heaped  up  together.  Opposite  to  these,  there  are 
others  who  lose  the  improvement  they  should  make  of  matters 
of  fact  by  a  quite  contrary  conduct.  They  are  apt  to  draw 
general  conclusions,  and  raise  axioms  from  every  particular  they 
meet  with.  These  make  as  little  true  benefit  of  history  as  the 
other ;  nay,  being  of  forward  and  active  spirits,  receive  more 
harm  by  it ;  it  being  of  worse  consequence  to  steer  one's  thoughts 
by  a  wrong  rule,  than  to  have  none  at  all ;  error  doing  to  busy 
men  much  more  harm  than  ignorance  to  the  slow  and  sluggish. 
Between  these,  those  seem  to  do  best,  who  taking  material  and 
useful  hints,  sometimes  from  single  matters  of  fact,  carry  them 
in  their  minds  to  be  judged  of,  by  what  they  shall  find  in  history, 
to  confirm  or  reverse  these  imperfect  observations  ;  which  may 
be  established  into  rules  fit  to  be  relied  on,  when  they  are  justi- 
fied by  a  sufficient  and  wary  induction  of  particulars.  He  that 
makes  no  such  reflections  on  what  he  reads,  only  loads  his  mind 
with  a  rhapsody  of  tales,  fit,  in  winter-nights,  for  the  entertain- 
ment of  others  :  and  he  that  will  improve  every  matter  of  fact 
into  a  maxim,  will  abound  in  contrary  observations,  that  can  be 
of  no  other  use  but  to  perplex  and  pudder  him,  if  he  compares 
them ;  or  else  to  misguide  him,  if  he  gives  himself  up  to  the 
authority  of  that,  which  for  its  novelty,  or  for  some  other  fancy, 
best  pleases  him. 

§   14.    BIAS. 

Next  to  these,  we  may  place  those  who  sutler  their  own 
natural  tempers  and  passions  they  are  possessed  with  to  influ- 
ence their  judgments,  especially  of  men  and  things,  that  may 
any  way  relate  to  their  present  circumstances  and  interest. 
Truth  is  all  simple,  all  pure,  will  bear  no  mixture  of  any  thing- 
else  with  it.  It  is  rigid  and  inflexible  to  any  by  interests  ;  and 
so  should  the  understanding  be,  whose  use  and  excellency  lies 
in  conforming  itself  to  it.  To  think  of  every  thing  just  as  it  is 
in  itself  is  the  proper  business  of  the  understanding,  though  it 
be  hot  that  which  men  always  employ  it  to.  This  all  men,  at 
first  hearing,  allow  is  the  right  use  every  one  should  make  of 
his  understanding.  Nobody  will  be  at  such  an  open  defiance 
with  common  sense  as  to  profess  that  we  should  not  endeavour 
to  know  and  think  of  things  as  they  are  in  themselves  ;  and  yet 
there  is  nothing  more  frequent  than  to  do  the  contrary  ;  and 

Vofc.   II.  36 


2>7b  COHDUCT  OK  TilE  UjSJDERSTANDIJSG. 

men  are  apt  to  excuse  themselves  ;  and  think  they  have  reason 
to  do  so,  if  they  have  but  a  pretence  that  it  is  for  God,  or  a 
good  cause  ;  that  is,  in  effect,  for  themselves,  their  own  per- 
suasion, or  party  :  for  those  in  their  turns  the  several  sects  oi" 
men,  especially  in  matters  of  religion,  entitle  God  and  a  good 
cause.  But  God  requires  not  men  to  wrong  or  misuse  their 
faculties  for  him,  nor  to  lie  to  others,  or  themselves,  for  his 
sake  ;  which  they  purposely  do,  who  will  not  suffer  their  under- 
standings to  have  right  conceptions  of  the  things  proposed  to 
them,  and  designedly  restrain  themselves  from  having  just 
thoughts  of  every  thing,  as  far  as  they  are  concerned  to  inquire. 
And  as  for  a  good  cause,  that  needs  not  such  ill  helps  ;  if  it  be 
good,  truth  will  support  it,  and  it  has  no  need  of  fallacy  or 
falsehood. 

§  15.    ARGUMENTS. 

Very  much  of  kin  to  this  is  the  hunting  after  arguments  to 
make  good  one  side  of  a  question,  and  wholly  to  neglect  and 
refuse  those  which  favour  the  other  side.  What  is  this  but  wil- 
fully to  misguide  the  understanding,  and  is  so  far  from  giving 
truth  its  due  value,  that  it  wholly  debases  it :  espouse  opinions 
that  best  comport  with  their  power,  profit,  or  credit,  and  then 
seek  arguments  to  support  them  ?  Truth  lit  upon  this  way  is  of 
no  more  avail  to  us  than  error ;  for  what  is  so  taken  up  by  us 
may  be  false  as  well  as  true,  and  he  has  not  done  his  duty  who 
has  thus  stumbled  upon  truth  in  his  way  to  preferment. 

There  is  another,  but  more  innocent  way  of  collecting  argu- 
ments, very  familiar  among  bookish  men,  which  is  to  furnish 
themselves  with  the  arguments  they  meet  with  pro  and  con.  in 
the  questions  they  study.  This  helps  them  not  to  judge  right, 
nor  argue  strongly,  but  only  to  talk  copiously  on  either  side, 
without  being  steady  and  settled  in  their  own  judgments  :  for 
such  arguments,  gathered  from  other  men's  thoughts,  Moating 
only  in  the  memory,  are  there  ready,  indeed,  to  supply  copious 
talk  with  some  appearance  of  reason,  but  are  far  from  helping 
us  to  judge  right.  Such  variety  of  arguments  only  distract  the 
understanding  that  relies  on  them,  unless  it  has  gone  farther 
than  such  a  superficial  way  of  examining ;  this  is  to  quit  truth 
for  appearance,  only  to  serve  our  vanity.  The  sure  and  only 
way  to  get  true  knowledge  is  to  form  in  our  minds  clear  settled 
notions  of  things,  with  names  annexed  to  those  determined 
ideas.  These  we  are  to  consider,  with  their  several  relations 
and  habitudes,  and  not  amuse  ourselves  with  floating  names  and 
words  of  indetermined  signification,  which  we  can  use  in  several 
senses  to  serve  a  turn.  It  is  in  the  perception  of  the  habitudes 
and  respects  our  ideas  have  one  to  another  that  real  knowledge 
consists  ;  and  when  a  man  once  perceives  how  far  they  agree 
or  disagree  one  with  another,  he  will  be  able  to  judge  of  what 
other  people  say.  and  will  no)  need  to  be  led  by  flu  arguments 


I  ONDI  i    I    OF  THE   UNDERSTANDING.  J7-JJ 

of  others,  which  are  many  of  them  nothing  but  plausible  sophis- 
try.    This  will  teach  him  to  state  the  question  right,  and  see 

whereon  it  turns ;  and  thus  he  will  shun!  upon  his  own  legs, 
and  know  by  his  own  understanding.  Whereas  by  collecting 
and  learning  arguments  by  heart,  he  will  be  but  a  retainer  to 
others  ;  and  when  any  one  questions  the  foundations  they  arc 
built  upon,  he  will  be  at  a  nonplus,  and  be  lain  to  give  \\\^  bis 
implicit  knowledge. 

§    1'6.     II  AST  K. 

Labour  for  labour's  sake  is  against  nature.     The  understand- 
ing, as  well  as  all  the  other  faculties,  chooses  always  the  shortest 
Avay  to  its  end,  would  presently  obtain  the  knowledge  it  is  about, 
and  then  set  upon  some  new  inquiry.     But  this,  whether  lazi- 
ness or  haste,  often  misleads  it,  and  makes  it  content  itself  with 
improper  ways  of  search,  and  such  as  will  not  serve  the  turn  : 
sometimes  it  rests  upon  testimony,  when  testimony  of  right  has 
nothing  to  do,  because  it  is  easier  to  believe  than  to  be  scientifi- 
cally instructed  :  sometimes  it  contents   itself  with  one  argu- 
ment, and  rests  satisfied  with  that,  as  it  were  a  demonstration, 
whereas  the  thing  under  proof  is  not  capable  of  demonstration, 
and  therefore  must  be  submitted  to  the  trial  of  probabilities,  and 
all  the  material  arguments  pro  and  con.  be  examined  and  brought 
to  a  balance.     In  some  cases  the  mind  is  determined  by  proba- 
ble topics  in  inquiries  where   demonstration   may  be  had.     All 
these,  and  several  others  which  laziness,  impatience,  custom, 
and   want  of  use  and  attention  lead  men  into,  are  misapplica- 
tions of  the  understanding  in  the  search  of  truth.     In  every 
question  the  nature  and  manner  of  the  proof  it  is  capable  of 
should  be  considered,  to  make  our  inquiry  such  as  it  should  be. 
This  would  save  a  great  deal  of  frequently  misemployed  pains, 
and  lead  us  sooner  to  that  discovery  and  possession  of  truth  we 
are  capable  of.     The  multiplying  variety  of  arguments,   espe- 
cially frivolous  ones,   such  as  are  all  that  are  merely  verbal,  is 
not  only  lost  labour,  but  cumbers  the  memory  to  no  purpose,  and 
serves  only  to  hinder  it  from  seizing  and  holding  of  the  truth  in 
all  those  cases  which  are  capable  of  demonstration.     In  such  a 
way  of  proof  the  truth  and  certainty  is  seen,  and  the  mind  fully 
possesses  itself  of  it ;  when  in  the  other  way  of  assent  it  only 
hovers  about  it,  is  amused  with  uncertainties.      In  this  superfi- 
cial way,  indeed,  the  mind  is  capable  of  more  variety  of  plausi- 
ble talk,  but  is  not  enlarged,  as  it  should  be,  in  its  knowledge. 
It  is  to  this  same  haste  and  impatience  of  the  mind  also,  that  a 
not  due  tracing  of  the  arguments  to  their  true  foundation   is 
owing;   men  see  a  little,  presume  a  great    deal,  and  so  jump  to 
the  conclusion.     This  is  a  short  way  to  fancy  and  conceit,  and 
(if  (irmly  embraced)  to  opinionatry,  but  is  certainly  the  farthest 
way  about  to  knowledge.     For  he  that  will  know,  must  by  the 
connexion  of  the  proofs  set-  the  truth,  and  the  ground  it  stands 


280  <  otfiwjcT  nr  Tin;  r  no  Kits  tamum,'. 

on;  and  therefore,  if  he  has  for  haste  skipped  over  what  he 
should  have  examined,  he  must  begin  and  go  over  all  again,  or 
else  he  will  never  come  to  knowledge. 

§  17.  desultory. 
Another  fault  of  as  ill  consequence  as  this,  which  proceeds 
also  from  laziness,  with  a  mixture  of  vanity,  is  the  skipping 
from  one  sort  of  knowledge  to  another.  Some  men's  tempers 
are  quickly  weary  of  any  one  thing.  Constancy  and  assiduity 
is  what  they  cannot  bear :  the  same  study  long  continued  in  is 
as  intolerable  to  them  as  the  appearing  long  in  the  same  clothes, 
or  fashion,  is  to  a  court-lady. 

§  18.    SMATTERING, 

Others,  that  they  may  seem  universally  knowing,  get  a  little 
smattering  in  every  thing.  Both  these  may  fill  their  heads  with 
superficial  notions  of  things,  but  are  very  much  out  of  the  way 
of  attaining  truth  or  knowledge. 

§  19.    UNIVERSALITY. 

I  do  not  here  speak  against  the  taking  a  taste  of  every  sort  ol 
knowledge  ;  it  is  certainly  very  useful  and  necessary  to  form  the 
mind  ;  but  then  it  must  be  done  in  a  different  way,  and  to  a 
different  end.  Not  for  talk  and  vanity  to  fill  the  head  with 
shreds  of  all  kinds,  that  he  who  is  possessed  of  such  a  frippery 
may  be  able  to  match  the  discourses  of  all  he  shall  meet  with,  as 
if  nothing  could  come  amiss  to  him  ;  and  his  head  was  so  well 
stored  a  magazine,  that  nothing  could  be  proposed  which  he 
was  not  master  of,  and  was  readily  furnished  to  entertain  any 
one  on.  This  is  an  excellency,  indeed,  and  a  great  one  too,  to 
have  a  real  and  true  knowledge  in  all,  or  most  of  the  objects  of 
contemplation.  But  it  is  what  the  mind  of  one  and  the  same 
man  can  hardly  attain  unto  ;  and  the  instances  are  so  few  of 
those  who  have,  in  any  measure,  approached  towards  it,  that  I 
know  not  whether  they  are  to  be  proposed  as  examples  in  the 
ordinary  conduct  of  the  understanding.  For  a  man  to  under- 
stand fully  the  business  of  his  particular  calling  in  the  common- 
wealth, and  of  religion,  which  is  his  calling  as  he  is  a  man  in 
the  world,  is  usually  enough  to  take  up  his  whole  time  ;  and 
there  are  few  that  inform  themselves  in  these,  which  is  every 
man's  proper  and  peculiar  business,  so  to  the  bottom  as  they 
should  do.  But  though  this  be  so,  and  there  are  very  kw  men 
that  extend  their  thoughts  toward  universal  knowledge ;  yet  I 
do  not  doubt,  but  if  the  right  way  were  taken,  and  the  methods 
of  inquiry  were  ordered  as  they  should  be,  men  of  little  busi- 
ness and  great  leisure  might  go  a  great  deal  farther  in  it  than  is 
usually  done.  To  turn  to  the  business  in  hand;  the  end  and 
use  of  a  little  insight  in  those  parts  of  knowledge,  which  are. 
rrot  a  man's  proper  business.  i<5  to  accustom  our  minds  to  all 


CONDUCT  of  'in::   i  m>i.kstam>i.\<.  2Si 

sorts  of  ideas,  and  the  proper  ways  of  examining  their  habi- 
tudes and  relations.  This  gives  the  mind  a  freedom,  and  the 
exercising  the  understanding  in  the  several  ways  of  inquiry  and 
reasoning,  which  the  most  skilful  have  made  use  of,  teaches  the 
mind  sagacity  and  wariness,  and  a  suppleness  to  apply  itself 
more  closely  and  dexterously  to  the  bents  and  turns  of  the  mat- 
ter in  all  its  researches.  Besides,  this  universal  taste  of  all  the 
sciences,  with  an  indinerency  before  the  mind  is  possessed  with 
anyone  in  particular,  and  grown  into  love  and  admiration  of  what, 
is  made  its  darling,  will  prevent  another  evil,  very  commonly  to  be 
observed  in  those  who  have  from  the  beginning  been  seasoned 
only  by  one  part  of  knowledge.  Let  a  man  be  given  up  to  the 
contemplation  of  one  sort  of  knowledge,  and  that  will  become 
every  thing.  The  mind  will  take  such  a  tincture  from  a  familiarity 
with  that  object,  that  every  thing  else,  how  remote  soever,  will 
be  brought  under  the  same  view.  A  metaphysician  will  bring 
ploughing  and  gardening  immediately  to  abstract  notions  :  the 
history  of  nature  shall  signify  nothing  to  him.  An  alchymist, 
on  the  contrary,  shall  reduce  divinity  to  the  maxims  of  his  labo- 
ratory ;  explain  morality  by  sal,  sulphur,  and  mercury ;  and 
allegorize  the  Scripture  itself,  and  the  sacred  mysteries  thereof, 
into  the  philosopher's  stone.  And  I  heard  once  a  man,  who 
had  a  more  than  ordinary  excellency  in  music,  seriously  accom- 
modate Moses's  seven  days  of  the  first  week  to  the  notes  of 
music,  as  if  from  thence  had  been  taken  the  measure  and 
method  of  the  creation.  It  is  of  no  small  consequence  to  keep 
the  mind  from  such  a  possession,  which  I  think  is  best  done  by 
giving  it  a  fair  and  equal  view  of  the  whole  intellectual  world, 
wherein  it  may  see  the  order,  rank,  and  beauty  of  the  whole, 
and  give  a  just  allowance  to  the  distinct  provinces  of  the  several 
sciences  in  the  due  order  and  usefulness  of  each  of  them. 

If  this  be  that  which  old  men  will  not  think  necessary,  nor  be 
easily  brought  to  ;  it  is  fit,  at  least,  that  it  should  be  practised  in 
the  breeding  of  the  young.  The  business  of  education,  as  I 
have  already  observed,  is  not,  as  I  think,  to  make  them  perfect 
in  any  one  of  the  sciences,  but  so  to  open  and  dispose  their 
minds,  as  may  best  make  them  capable  of  any,  when  they  shall 
apply  themselves  to  it.  If  men  are,  for  a  long  time,  accustom- 
ed only  to  one  sort  or  method  of  thoughts,  their  minds  grow  stiff" 
in  it,  and  do  not  readily  turn  to  another.  It  is,  therefore,  to  give 
them  this  freedom,  that  I  think  they  should  be  made  to  look 
into  all  sorts  of  knowledge,  and  exercise  their  understandings 
in  so  wide  a  variety  and  stock  of  knowledge.  But  I  do  not 
propose  it  as  a  variety  and  stock  of  knowledge,  but  a  variety 
and  freedom  of  thinking,  as  an  increase  of  the  powers  and 
activity  of  the  mind,  not  as  an  enlargement  of  its  possessions. 

§  l20.    READING; 

This  is  that  which  I  think  great  .readers  are  apt  to  be  rrnV 


282  >  i'jNDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTATING. 

taken  in.  Those  who  have  read  of  every  thing,  are  thought  to 
understand  every  thing-  too;  but  it  is  not  always  so.  Reading 
ftirnishes  the  mind  only  with  materials  of  knowledge;  it  is 
thinking  makes  what  we  read  ours.  We  are  of  the  ruminating 
kind,  and  it  is  not  enough  to  cram  ourselves  with  a  great  load  of 
collections,  unless  we  chew  them  over  again,  they  will  not  give 
us  strength  and  nourishment.  There  are,  indeed,  in  some  writers 
visible  instances  of  deep  thoughts,  close  and  acute  reasoning, 
and  ideas  well  pursued.  The  light  these  would  give  would  be 
of  great  use,  if  their  reader  would  observe  and  imitate  them ; 
all  the  rest  at  best  are  but  particulars  fit  to  be  turned  into  know- 
ledge ;  but  that  can  be  done  only  by  our  own  meditation,  and 
examining  the  reach,  force,  and  coherence  of  what  is  said;  and 
then,  as  far  as  we  apprehend  and  see  the  connexion  of  ideas,  so 
far  it  is  ours ;  without  that,  it  is  but  so  much  loose  matter  float- 
ing in  our  brain.  The  memory  may  be  stored,  but  the  judgment 
is  little  better,  and  the  stock  of  knowledge  not  increased,  by 
being  able  to  repeat  what  others  have  said,  or  produce  the  argu- 
ments we  have  found  in  them.  Such  a  knowledge  as  this  is  but 
knowledge  by  hearsay,  and  the  ostentation  of  it  is  at  best  but 
talking  by  rote,  and  very  often  upon  weak  and  wrong  principles. 
For  all  that  is  to  be  found  in  books  is  not  built  upon  true  foun- 
dations, nor  always  rightly  deduced  from  the  principles  it  is  pre- 
tended to  be  built  on.  Such  an  examen  as  is  requisite  to  disco- 
ver that,  every  reader's  mind  is  not  forward  to  make  ;  especially 
in  those  who  have  given  themselves  up  to  a  party,  and  only 
hunt  for  what  they  can  scrape  together,  that  may  favour  and 
support  the  tenets  of  it.  Such  men  wilfully  exclude  themselves 
from  truth,  and  from  all  true  benefit  to  be  received  by  reading. 
Others  of  more  indifferency  often  want  attention  and  industry. 
The  mind  is  backward  in  itself  to  be  at  the  pains  to  trace  every 
argument  to  its  original,  and  to  see  upon  what  basis  it  stands, 
and  how  firmly  ;  but  yet  it  is  this  that  gives  so  much  the  advan- 
tage to  one  man  more  than  another  in  reading.  The  mind 
should  by  severe  rules  be  tied  down  to  this,  at  first,  uneasy  task ; 
use  and  exercise  will  give  it  facility.  So  that  those  who  are 
accustomed  to  it  readily,  as  it  were  with  one  cast  of  the  eye, 
take  a  view  of  the  argument,  and  presently,  in  most  cases,  see 
where  it  bottoms.  Those  who  have  got  this  faculty,  one  may 
say,  have  got  the  true  key  of  books,  and  the  clue  to  lead  them 
through  the  mizmaze  of  variety  of  opinions  and  authors  to 
truth  and  certainty.  This  young  beginners  should  be  entered  in, 
and  showed  the  use  of,  that  they  might  profit  by  their  reading. 
Those  who  are  strangers  to  it  will  be  apt  to  think  it  too  great  a 
clog  in  the  way  of  men's  studies,  and  they  will  suspect  they 
shall  make  but  small  progress,  if,  in  the  books  they  read,  they 
must  stand  to  examine  and  unravel  every  argument,  and  follow 
it  step  by  step  up  to  its  original. 


CONDUCT  OV  THE  U JMDEEST ANDLKG .  2ti& 

1  answer,  this  is  a  good  objection,  and  ought  to  weigh  with 
those  whose  reading  is  designed  for  much  talk  and  little  know- 
ledge, and  I  have  nothing  to  say  to  it.  But  I  am  here  inquiring 
into  the  conduct  of  the  understanding  in  its  progress  towards 
knowledge ;  and  to  those  who  aim  at  that,  1  may  say,  that  he 
who  fair  and  softly  goes  steadily  forward  in  a  course  that  points 
right,  will  sooner  be  at  his  journey's  end,  than  he  that  runs  after 
every  one  he  meets,  though  he  gallop  all  day  full-spet  d. 

To  which  let  me  add,  that  this  way  of  thinking  on,  and  pro- 
liting  by,  what  Ave  read,  will  be  a  clog  and  rub  to  any  one  only 
in  the  beginning:  when  custom  and  exercise  have  made  it  fami- 
liar, it  will  be  despatched,  on  most  occasions,  without  resting  or 
interruption  in  the  course  of  our  reading.  The  motions  and 
views  of  a  mind  exercised  that  way  are  wonderfully  quick ;  and 
a  man  used  to  such  sort  of  reflections  sees  as  much  at  one 
glimpse  as  would  require  a  long  discourse  to  lay  before  another, 
and  make  out  in  an  entire  and  gradual  deduction.  Besides  that, 
when  the,  fust  difficulties  are  over,  the  delight  and  sensible  ad- 
vantage it  brings  mightily  encourages  and  enlivens  the  mind  in 
reading,  which  without  this  is  very  improperly  called  study. 

§   21.    IN'TI.RMEDIATE  PRUN'CU'r.ES. 

As  a  help  to  this,  I  think  it  maybe  proposed, that  for  the  saving 
the  long  progression  of  the  thoughts  to  remote  and  Drtt  principles 
in  every  case,  the  mind  should  provide  it  several  stages  ;  that  is 
to  say,  intermediate  principles,  which  it  might  have  recourse  to 
in  the  examining  those  positions  that  come  in  its  way.  These, 
though  they  are  not  self-evident  principles,  yet  if  they  have  been 
made  out  from  them  by  a  wary  and  unquestionable  deduction, 
may  be  depended  on  as  certain  and  infallible  truths,  and  serve  as 
unquestionable  truths  to  prove  other  points  depending  on  them 
by  a  nearer  and  shorter  view  than  remote  and  general  ma\imr. 
These  may  serve  as  land-marks  to  show  what  lies  in  the  direct 
way  of  truth,  or  is  quite  besides  it.  And  thus  mathematicians 
do,  who  do  not  in  every  new  problem  run  it  back  to  the  first 
axioms,  through  all  the  whole  train  of  intermediate  propositions. 
Certain  theorems,  that  they  have  settled  to  themselves  upon 
sure  demonstration,  serve  to  resolve  to  them  multitudes  of  pre- 
positions which  depend  on  them,  and  are  as  firmly  made  out 
from  thence  as  if  the  mind  went  afresh  over  every  link  of 
the  whole  chain  that  ties  them  to  first  self-evident  principles. 
(July  in  other  sciences  great  care  is  to  be  taken,  that  they  esta- 
blish those  intermediate  principles  with  as  much  caution,  exact- 
ness and  indifferency,  as  mathematicians  use  in  the  settling 
ol"  their  great  theorem^.  \\  hen  this  is  not  done,  but  men  take 
up  the  principles  in  this  or  that  science  upon  credit,  inclination, 
interest,  &c.  in  haste,  without  due  examination,  and  inosi 
unquestionable  proof,  they  lay  a  trap  for  themselves   arid.  as 


JS4  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 

much  as  in  them  lies,  captivate  their  understandings  to  mistake, 
falsehood,  and  error. 

§  22.    PARTI4.LITV. 

As  there  is  a  partiality  to  opinions,  which,  as  we  have  already 
observed,  is  apt  to  mislead  the  understanding  ;  so  there  is  often 
a  partiality  to  studies,  which  is  prejudicial  also  to  knowledge 
and  improvement.  Those  sciences  which  men  are  particularly 
versed  in  they  are  apt  to  value  and  extol,  as  if  that  part  of 
knowledge  which  every  one  has  acquainted  himself  with  were 
that  alone  which  was  worth  the  having,  and  all  the  rest  were 
idle  and  empty  amusements,  comparatively  of  no  use  or  impor- 
tance. This  is  the  effect  of  ignorance,  and  not  knowledge ; 
the  being  vainly  puffed  up  with  a  flatulency  arising  from  a  weak 
and  narrow  comprehension.  It  is  not  amiss  that  every  one 
should  relish  the  science  that  he  has  made  his  peculiar  study  ; 
a  view  of  its  beauties,  and  a  sense  of  its  usefulness,  carries  a 
man  on  with  the  more  delight  and  warmth  in  the  pursuit  and 
improvement  of  it.  But  the  contempt  of  all  other  knowledge, 
as  if  it  were  nothing  in  comparison  of  law  or  physic,  of  astro- 
nomy or  chymistry,  or  perhaps  some  yet  meaner  part  of  know- 
ledge, wherein  I  have  got  some  smattering,  or  am  somewhat 
advanced,  is  not  only  the  mark  of  a  vain  or  little  mind ;  but 
does  this  prejudice  in  the  conduct  of  the  understanding,  that  it 
coops  it  up  within  narrow  bounds,  and  hinders  it  from  looking 
abroad  into  other  provinces  of  the  intellectual  world,  more 
beautiful  possibly  and  more  fruitful  than  that  which  it  had,  till 
then,  laboured  in  ;  wherein  it  might  find,  besides  new  knowledge, 
ivays  or  hints  whereby  it  might  be  enabled  the  better  to  culti- 
vate its  own. 

§  23.    THEOLOGY. 

There  is,  indeed,  one  science  (as  they  are  now  distinguished) 
incomparably  above  all  the  rest,  where  it  is  not  by  corruption 
narrowed  into  a  trade  or  faction,  for  mean  or  ill  ends,  and  secular 
interests  ;  I  mean  theology,  which,  containing  the  knowledge 
of  God  and  his  creatures,  our  duty  to  him  and  our  fellow-crea- 
tures, and  a  view  of  our  present  and  future  state,  is  the  compre- 
hension of  all  other  knowledge  directed  to  its  true  end ;  i.  e. 
the  honour  and  veneration  of  the  Creator,  and  the  happiness 
of  mankind.  This  is  that  noble  study  which  is  every  man's 
duty,  and  every  one  that  can  be  called  a  rational  creature  is 
capable  of.  The  works  of  nature,  and  the  words  of  revelatiop, 
display  it  to  mankind  in  characters  so  large  and  visible,  that 
those  who  are  not  quite  blind  may  in  them  read  and  see  the 
first  principles  and  most  necessary  parts  of  it ;  and  from  thence, 
as  they  have  time  and  industry,  may  be  enabled  to  go  on  to  the 
more  abstruse  parts  of  it,  and  penetrate  into  those  infinite  depths 
nUed  with  the  treasures  ni'  wisdom  and  knowleilire.     This  is 


uONDLCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  286 

that  science  which  would  truly  enlarge  men's  minds,  were  it 
studied,  or  permitted  to  be  studied,  every  where,  with  that 
freedom,  love  of  truth,  and  charity  which  it  teaches,  and  were 
not  made,  contrary  to  its  nature,  the  occasion  of  strife,  faction^, 
malignity,  and  narrow  impositions.  I  shall  say  no  more  here 
of  this,  but  that  it  is  undoubtedly  a  wrong  use  of  my  under- 
standing, to  make  it  the  rule  and  measure  of  another  man's  < 
a  use  which  it  is  neither  fit  for,  nor  capable  of. 

§  24.     PARTIALITY. 

This  partiality,  where  it  is  not  permitted  an  authority  to  rea- 
der all  other  studies  insignificant   or   contemptible,  is   often 
indulged  so  far  as  to  be  relied  upon,  and  made  use  of  in  other 
parts  of  knowledge,  to  which  it  does   not  at  all  belong,  and 
wherewith  it  has  no  manner  of  affinity.     Some  men  have  so 
used  their  heads  to  mathematical  figures;  that,  giving  a  pre- 
ference to  the  methods  of  that  science,  they  introduce  lines  and 
diagrams  into  their  study  of  divinity,  or  politic  inquiries,  as   if 
nothing  could  be  known  without  them  ;  and  others,  accustomed 
to  retired  speculations,  run  natural  philosophy  into  metaphysical 
notions,  and  the  abstract  generalities  of  logic  ;  and  how  often 
may  one  meet  with  religion   and  morality  treated  of  in  the 
terms  of  the  laboratory,  and  thought  to  be  improved   by  the 
methods  and  notions  of  chymistry  ?     But  he  that  will  take  care 
of  the  conduct  of  his  understanding,  to  direct  it  right  to  the 
Knowledge  of  things,  must  avoid  those  undue  mixtures,  and  not;, 
a  fondness  for  what  he  has  found  useful  and  necessary  in. 
one,  transfer  it  to  another  science,  where  it  serves  only  to  per- 
plex and  confound  the  understanding.     It  is  a  certain  truth., 
(hat  res  nolunt  mala  administrari ;  it  is  no  less  certain  pes  nolunt 
male  intelligi.     Things  themselves  are  to  be  considered  as  they 
are  in  themselves,  and  then  they  will  show  us  in  what  way  thev 
are  to  be  understood.     For  to  have  right  conceptions  about 
diem,  we  must  bring  our  understandings  to  the  indexible  natures 
and  unalterable  relations  of  things,  and  not  endeavour  to  bring 
things  to  any  preconceived  notions  of  our  own. 

There  is  another  partiality  very  commonly  observable  in  men 
of  study,  no  less  prejudicial  nor  ridiculous  than  the  former-; 
and  that  is  a  fantastical  and  wild  attributing  all  knowledge  to 
the  ancients  alone,  or  to  the  moderns.  This  raving  upon  anti- 
quity in  matter  of  poetry,  Horace  has  wittily  described  and 
exposed  in  one  of  his  satires.  The  same  sort  of  madness  may 
be  found  in  reference  to  all  the  other  sciences.  Some  will  not 
admit  an  opinion  not  authorized  by  men  of  old,  who  were  then 
all  giants  in  knowledge.  Nothing  is  to  be  put  into  the  treasury 
of  truth  or  knowledge  which  has  not  the  stamp  of  Greece  or 
Rome  upon  it  ;  and  since  their  days  will  scarce  allow  that  men 
have  been  able  to  see,  think,  or  write.  Others,  with  a  like 
extravagancy,  contemn  fill  that  the  ancients  have  left  us,  and, 
Poi    II.  .'*7 


280  COJJDtCT  OF  THE   LXDERSTANDINl.. 

being  taken  with  the  modern  inventions  and  discoveries,  lay  by 
all  that  went  before,  as  if  whatever  is  called  old  must  have  the 
decay  of  time  upon  it,  and  truth,  too,  were  liable  to  mould  and 
rottenness.     Men,  I  think,  have  been  much  the  same  for  natural 
endowments  in  all  times.     Fashion,  discipline,  and  education, 
have  put  eminent  differences  in  the  ages  of  several  countries, 
and  made  one  generation  much  differ  from  another  in  arts  and 
sciences  :  but  truth  is  always  the  same  ;  time  alters  it  not,  nor 
is  it  the  better  or  worse  for  being  of  ancient  or  modern  tradition. 
Many  were  eminent  in  former  ages  of  the  world  for   their 
discovery  and  delivery  of  it ;  but  though  the  knowledge  they 
have  left  us  be  worth  our  study,  yet  they  exhausted  not  ail  its 
treasure  ;  they  left  a  great  deal  for  the  industry  and  sagacity  of 
after-ages,  and  so  shall  we.     That  was  once  new  to  them  which 
any  one  now  receives  with  veneration  for  its  antiquity,  nor  was 
it  the  worse  for  appearing  as  a  novelty ;  and  that  which  is  now 
embraced  for  its  newness  will  to  posterity  be  old,  but  not 
thereby  be  less  true  or  less  genuine.     There  is  no  occasion,  on 
this  account,  to  oppose  the  ancients  and  the  moderns  to  one 
another,  or  to  be  squeamish  on  either  side.     He  that  wisely 
conducts  his  mind  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  will  gather  what 
lights,  and  get  what  helps  he  can,  from  either  of  them,  from 
whom  they  are  best  to  he  had,  without  adoring  the  errors,  or 
rejecting  the  truths,  which  he  may  find  mingled  in  them. 

Another  partiality  may  be  observed,  in  some  to  vulgar,  in 
others  to  heterodox  tenets  :  some  are  apt  to  conclude  that  what 
is  the  common  opinion  cannot  but  be  true  ;  so  many  men's  eyes 
they  think  cannot  but  see  right ;  so  many  men's  understandings 
of  all  sorts  cannot  be  deceived  ;  and,  therefore,  will  not  venture 
to  look  beyond  the  received  notions  of  the  place  and  age,  nor 
have  so  presumptuous  a  thought  as  to  be  wiser  than  their  neigh- 
bours. They  are  content  to  go  with  the  crowd,  and  so  go 
easily,  which  they  think  is  going  right,  or  at  least  serves  them 
as  well.  But,  however  vox  populi  vox  Dei  has  prevailed  as  a 
maxim,  yet  I  do  not  remember  where  ever  God  delivered  his 
oracles  by  the  multitude,  or  nature  truths  by  the  herd.  On  the 
other  side,  some  fly  all  common  opinions  as  either  false  or 
frivolous.  The  title  of  many-headed  beast  is  a  sufficient  reason 
to  them  to  conclude  that  no  truths  of  weight  or  consequence 
can  be  lodged  there.  Vulgar  opinions  are  suited  to  vulgar 
capacities,  and  adapted  to  the  ends  of  those  that  govern.  He 
that  will  know  the  truth  of  things  must  leave  the  common  and 
beaten  track,  which  none  but  weak  and  servile  minds  are 
satisfied  to  trudge  along  continually  in.  Such  nice  palates 
relish  nothing  but  strange  notions  quite  out  of  the  way  :  what- 
ever is  commonly  received,  has  the  mark  of  the  beast  on  it ; 
and  they  think  it  a  lessening  to  them  to  hearken  to  it,  or 
receive  it ;  their  mind  runs  only  after  paradoxes ;  these  they 
seekj  these  <hey  embrace,  these  alone  they  vent ;    and  so,  as 


CONDUCT  OF   i'llt:   ITNDERSTAlSrfifNG. 

they  think,  distinguish  themselves  from  the  vulgar.  But  com- 
mon  or  uncommon  are  not  the  marks  to  distinguish  truth  or  false- 
hood, and  therefore  should  not  be  any  bias  to  us  in  our  inquiries. 
We  should  not  judge  of  things  by  men's  opinions,  but  of 
opinions  by  things.  The  multitude  reason  but  ill,  and  therefore 
may  be  well  suspected,  and  cannot  be  relied  on,  nor  should  be 
followed  as  a  sure  guide;  but  philosophers,  who  have  quitted  the 
orthodoxy  of  the  community,  and  the  popular  doctrines  of  their 
countries,  have  fallen  into  as  extravagant  and  as  absurd  opinions 
as  ever  common  reception  countenanced.  It  would  be  mad- 
ness to  refuse  to  breathe  the  common  air,  or  quench  one's  thirst, 
with  water,  because  the  rabble  use  them  to  these  purposes : 
and  if  there  are  conveniences  of  life  which  common  use  reaches 
not,  it  is  not  reason  to  reject  them  because  they  are  not  grown 
into  the  ordinary  fashion  of  the  country,  and  every  villager  doth 
not  know  them. 

Truth,  whether  in  or  out  of  fashion,  is  the  measure  of  know- 
ledge, and  the  business  of  the  understanding ;  whatsoever  is 
besides  that,  however  authorized  by  consent,  or  recommended 
by  rarity,  is  nothing  but  ignorance,  or  something  worse. 

Another  sort  of  partiality  there  is,  whereby  men  impose  upon 
themselves,  and  by  it  make  their  reading  little  useful  to  them- 
selves :  I  mean  the  making  use  of  the  opinions  of  writers,  and 
laying  stress  upon  their  authorities,  wherever  they  find  them  to 
favour  their  own  opinions. 

There  is  nothing  almost  has  done  more  harm  to  men  dedica- 
ted to  letters  than  giving  the  name  of  study  to  reading,  and 
making  a  man  of  great  reading  to  be  the  same  with  a  man  of 
great  knowledge,  or  at  least  to  be  a  title  of  honour.  All  that 
can  be  recorded  in  writing  are  only  facts  or  reasonings.  Facts 
are  of  three  sorts  ; 

1.  Merely  of  natural  agents,  observable  in  the  ordinary  ope- 
rations of  bodies  one  upon  another,  whether  in  the  visible  course 
of  things  left  to  themselves,  or  in  experiments  made  by  them, 
applying  agents  and  patients  to  one  another,  after  a  peculiar  and 
artificial  manner. 

2.  Of  voluntary  agents,  more  especially  the  actions  of  men 
in  society,  which  makes  civil  and  moral  history. 

3.  Of  opinions. 

In  these  three  consists,  as  it  seems  to  me,  that  which  com- 
monly has  the  name  of  learning  ;  to  which  perhaps  some  may 
add  a  distinct  head  of  critical  writings,  which  indeed  at  bottom 
is  nothing  but  matter  of  fact ;  and  resolves  itself  into  this,  that 
such  a  man,  or  set  of  men,  used  such  a  word,  or  phrase,  in  such 
a  sense  ;  i.  e.  that  they  made  such  sounds  the  marks  of  such 
ideas. 

Under  reasonings  I  comprehend  all  the  discoveries  of  general 
truths  made  by  human  reason,  whether  found  by  intuition,  dr. 
monstration,  or  probable  deductions.      Aud  this  is  that  which  is. 


£&8  CONDUCT  OK  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 

if  not  alone  knowledge,  (because  the  truth  or  probability  of 
particular  propositions  may  be  known  too)  yet  is,  as  may  be 
supposed,  most  properly  the  business  of  those  who  pretend  to 
improve  their  understandings,  and  make  themselves  knowing  by 
reading. 

Books  and  reading  are  looked  upon  to  be  the  great  helps  of 
the  understanding,  and  instruments  of  knowledge,  as  it  must  be 
allowed  that  they  are  ;  and  yet  I  beg  leave  to  question  whether 
these  do  not  prove  a  hinderanee  to  many,  and  keep  several 
bookish  men  from  attaining  to  solid  and  true  knowledge.  This, 
I  think,  I  may  be  permitted  to  say,  that  there  is  no  part  wherein 
the  understanding  needs  a  more  careful  and  wary  conduct  than 
m  the  use  of  books ;  without  which  they  will  prove  rather  in- 
nocent amusements  than  profitable  employments  of  our  time* 
and  bring  but  small  additions  to  our  knowledge. 

There  is  not  seldom  to  be  found,  even  among  those  who  aim 
at  knowledge,  who  with  an  unwearied  industry  employ  thcif 
whole  time  in  books,  who  scarce  allow  themselves  time  to  eat 
or  sleep,  but  read,  and  read,  and  read  on,  yet  make  no  great 
advances  in  real  knowledge,  though  there  be  no  defect  in  their 
intellectual  faculties,  to  which  their  little  progress  can  be  impu- 
ted. The  mistake  here  is,  that  it  is  usually  supposed  that  b\ 
reading,  the  author's  knowledge  is  transfused  into  the  readers 
understanding  ;  and  so  it  is,  but  not  by  bare  reading,  but  by 
reading  and  understanding  what  he  writ.  Whereby  I  mean,  not 
barely  comprehending  what  is  affirmed  or  denied  in  each  propo- 
sition (though  that  great  readers  do  not  always  think  themselves 
concerned  precisely  to  do,)  but  to  see  and  follow  the  train  of 
his  reasonings,  observe  the  strength  and  clearness  of  their  con- 
nexion, and  examine  upon  what  they  bottom.  Without  this  a 
man  may  read  the  discourses  of  a  very  rational  author,  writ  in 
a  language,  and  in  propositions,  that  he  very  well  understands. 
Tind  yet  acquire  not  one  jot  of  his  knowledge  ;  which  consist- 
ing only  in  the  perceived,  certain,  or  probable  connexion  of  the 
ideas  made  use  of  in  his  reasonings,  the  reader's  knowledge  is 
no  farther  increased  than  he  perceives  that ;  so  much  as  he 
s-ees  of  this  connexion,  so  much  he  knows  of  the  truth  or  pro. 
liability  of  that  author's  opinions.  , 

AH  that  he  relies  on,  without  this  perception,  he  takes  upon 
f.mst,  upon  the  author's  credit,  without  any  knowledge  of  it  at 
all.  This  makes  me  not  at  all  wonder  to  see  some  men  so 
abound  in  citations,  and  build  so  much  upon  authorities,  it  being 
ihe  sole  foundation  on  which  they  bottom  most  of  their  own 
tenets;  so  that,  in  effect,  they  have  but  a  second-hand,  or  im- 
plicit knowledge  ;  i.  e.  are  in  the  right,  if  such  an  one  from 
whom  they  borrowed  it  were  in  the  right  in  that  opinion  which 
they  took  from  him  ;  which  indeed  is  no  knowledge  at  all. 
Writers  of  this  or  former  ages  may  be  good  witnesses  of  matters 
rff  fad  which  they  de/liveF,  which  we  may  do  well  to  take  upon 


CONDUCT  OF  THE   UNDERSTANDtNCf.  289 

their  authority ;  but  their  credit  can  go  no  farther  than  this  ;  it. 
cannot  at  all  affect  the  truth  and  falsehood  of  opinions  which 
have  no  other  sort  of  trial  but  reason  and  proof,  which  they 
themselves  made  use  of  to  make  themselves  knowing,  and  so 
must  others  too,  that  will  partake  in  their  knowledge.  Indeed. 
it  is  an  advantage  that  they  have  been  at  the  pains  to  find  out 
the  proofs,  and  lay  them  in  that  order  that  may  show  the  truth 
or  probability  of  their  conclusions  ;  and  for  this  we  owe  them 
great  acknowledgments  for  saving  us  the  pains  in  searching 
out  those  proofs  which  they  have  collected  for  us,  and  which 
possibly,  after  all  our  pains,  wc  might  not  have,  found,  nor  been, 
able  to  have  set  them  in  so  good  a  light  as  that  which  they  left: 
them  us  in.  Upon  this  account  we  are  mightily  beholden  to  ju- 
dicious writers  of  all  ages,  for  those  discoveries  and  discourses 
ihev  have  left  behind  them  for  our  instruction,  if  we  know  how 
10  make  a  right  use  of  them  ;  which  is  not  to  run  them  over  in. 
a  hasty  perusal,  and  perhaps  lodge  their  opinions  or  some  re- 
markable passages  in  our  memories;  but  to  enter  into  their  rea- 
sonings, examine  their  proofs,  and  then  judge  of  the  truth  or 
falsehood,  probability  or  improbability  of  what  they  advance, 
not  by  any  opinion  we  have  entertained  of  the  author,  but  b\ 
the  evidence  he  produces,  and  the  conviction  he  affords  us, 
drawn  from  things  themselves.  Knowing  is  seeing,  and  if  it  be 
so,  it  is  madness  to  persuade  ourselves  that  we  do  so  by  another 
man's  eyes,  let  him  use  ever  so  many  words  to  tell  us  that  what 
he  asserts  is  very  visible.  Till  we  ourselves  see  it  with  our  own 
eyes,  and  perceive  it  by  our  own  understandings,  we  are  as  much 
In  the  dark  and  as  void  of  knowledge  as  before,  let  us  believe 
any  learned  author  as  much  as  we  will. 

Euclid  and  Archimedes  are  allowed  to  be  knowing,  and  to 
have  demonstrated  what  they  say  :  and  yet  whoever  shall  read 
over  their  writings  without  perceiving  the  connexion  of  their 
proofs,  and  seeing  what  they  show,  though  he  may  understand 
all  their  words,  yet  he  is  not  the  more  knowing  :  he  may  believe, 
indeed,  but  does  not  know  what  they  say  ;  and  so  is  not  advan- 
ced one  jot  in  mathematical  knowledge^  by  ail  his  reading  oi 
approved  mathematicians. 

§  25.    HASTE. 

The  eag<  ad  strong  bent  of  the  mind  after  know*edg< 

if  net  warily  regulated,  is  often  an  hinderance  to  it.  It  still 
presses  into  farther  discoveries  and  new  objects,  and  catches  at 
the  variety  of  knowledge ;  and  therefore  often  stays  not  long 
1  QOUgh  on  what  is  before  il,  (o  look  into  it  as  it  should,  for  haste 
)  pursue  what  is  yet  out  of  sight.  He  that  rides  post  through 
a  country  maj  be  able,  from  the  transient  view,  to  tell  how  in 
general  the  parts  lie,  and  may  be  able  to  give  some  loose  de- 
scription of  here  a  mountain,  and  there  a  plain  ;  here  a  morass, 
and  there  a  river  :   woodland  in  one  part,  and  savannahs  in  ;u>n 


290         CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 

ther.  Such  superficial  ideas  and  observations  as  these  lie  ma\ 
collect  in  galloping  over  it :  but  the  more  useful  observations 
of  the  soil,  plants,  animals,  and  inhabitants,  with  their  several 
sorts  and  properties,  must  necessarily  escape  him  ;  and  it  is 
seldom  men  ever  discover  the  rich  mines  without  some  digging. 
Nature  commonly  lodges  her  treasure  and  jewels  in  rocky 
ground.  If  the  matter  be  knotty,  and  the  sense  lies  deep,  the 
mind  must  stop  and  buckle  to  it,  and  stick  upon  it  with  labour 
and  thought,  and  close  contemplation ;  and  not  leave  it  till  it 
has  mastered  the  difficulty,  and  got  possession  of  truth.  But 
here  care  must  be  taken  to  avoid  the  other  extreme :  a  man  must 
not  stick  at  every  useless  nicety,  and  expect  mysteries  of  sctencr 
in  every  trivial  question,  or  scruple,  that  he  may  raise.  He  that 
will  stand  to  pick  up  and  examine  every  pebble  that  comes  in  his 
way  is  as  unlikely  to  return  enriched  and  loaden  with  jewels, 
as  the  other  that  travelled  full  speed.  Truths  are  not  the  better 
nor  the  worse  for  their  obviousness  or  difficulty,  but  their  value 
is  to  be  measured  by  their  usefuluess  and  tendency.  Insignifi- 
cant observations  should  not  take  up  any  of  our  minutes,  and 
those  that  enlarge  our  view,  and  give  light  towards  farther  and 
useful  discoveries,  should  not  be  neglected,  though  they  stop  our 
course  and  spend  some  of  our  time  in  a  fixed  attention. 

There  is  another  haste  that  does  often,  and  will  mislead  the 
mind  if  it  be  left  to  itself,  and  its  own  conduct.  The  under- 
standing is  naturally  forward,  not  only  to  learn  its  knowledge 
by  variety  (which  makes  it  skip  over  one  to  get  speedily  to 
another  part  of  knowledge)  but  also  eager  to  enlarge  its  views, 
by  running  too  fast  into  general  observations  and  conclusions, 
without  a  due  examination  of  particulars  enough  whereon  to 
found  those  general  axioms.  This  seems  to  enlarge  their  stock, 
but  it  is  of  fancies,  not  realities ;  such  theories  built  upon  nar- 
row foundations  stand  but  weakly,  and,  if  they  fall  not  of  them- 
selves, are  at  least  very  hardly  to  be  supported  against  the 
assaults  of  opposition.  And  thus  men  being  too  hasty  to  erect 
to  themselves  general  notions  and  ill-grounded  theories,  find 
themselves  deceived  in  their  stock  of  knowledge,  when  they 
come  to  examine  their  hastily  assumed  maxims  themselves,  or 
to  have  them  attacked  by  others.  General  observations  drawn 
from  particulars  are  the  jewels  of  knowledge,  comprehending 
great  store  in  a  little  room  ;  but  they  are  therefore  to  be  made 
with  the  greater  care  and  caution,  lest,  if  we  take  counterfeit  for 
true,  our  loss  and  shame  be  the  greater  when  our  stock  comes 
to  a  severe  scrutiny.  One  or  two  particulars  may  suggest  hints 
of  inquiry,  and  they  do  well  to  take  those  hints ;  but  if  they 
turn  them  into  conclusions,  and  make  them  presently  general 
rules,  they  are  forward  indeed,  but  it  is  only  to  impose  on 
themselves  by  propositions  assumed  for  truths  without  suffieient 
warrant.  To  make  such  observations  is,  as  has  been  already 
remarked,  to  make  the  head  a  magazine  of  materials,  which 


oOiNDLCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  2D1 

Can  hardly  be  called  knowledge ;  or  at  least  it  is  but  like  a  collection, 
of  lumber  not  reduced  to  use  or  order  ;  and  he  that  makes 
every  thing  an  observation,  has  the  same  useless  plenty,  and 
much  more  falsehood  mixed  with  it.  The  extremes  on  both 
sides  are  to  be  avoided,  and  he  will  be  able  to  give  the  best 
account  of  his  studies  who  keeps  his  understanding  in  the  right 
mean  between  them. 

§  2G.  AxriciPATior;. 

Whether  it  be  a  love  of  that  which  brings  the  rirst  light  and 
information  to  then  minds,  and  want  of  vigour  and  industry  to 
inquire  ;  or  else  that  men  content  themselves  with  any  appear- 
ance of  knowledge,  right  or  wrong ;  which,  when  they  have 
once  got,  they  will  hold  fast :  this  is  visible,  that  many  men 
give  themselves  up  to  the  first  anticipations  of  their  minds,  and 
are  very  tenacious  of  the  opinions  that  lirst  possess  them  ;  they 
are  often  as  fond  of  their  first  conceptions  as  of  their  first-born, 
and  will  by  no  means  recede  from  the  judgment  they  have  once- 
made,  or  any  conjecture  or  conceit  which  they  have  once 
entertained.  This  is  a  fault  in  the  conduct  of  the  understanding, 
since  this  firmness  or  rather  stiffness  of  the  mind  is  not  from  an 
adherence  to  truth,  but  a  submission  to  prejudice.  It  is  an 
unreasonable  homage  paid  to  prepossession,  whereby  we  show 
a  reverence,  not  to  (what  we  pretend  to  seek)  truth,  but  what 
by  hap-hazard  we  chance  to  light  on,  be  it  what  it  will.  This 
is  visibly  a  preposterous  use  of  our  faculties,  and  is  a  down- 
right prostituting  of  the  mind  to  resign  it  thus,  and  put  it  under 
*he  power  of  the  first  comer.  This  can  never  be  allowed,  or 
ought  to  be  followed,  as  a  right  way  to  knowledge,  till  the 
understanding  (whose  business  it  is  to  conform  itself  to  what  if. 
finds  in  the  objects  without)  can,  by  its  own  opinionatry, 
change  that,  and  make  the  unalterable  nature  of  things  comply 
with  its  own  hasty  determinations,  wdiich  will  never  be. 
Whatever  we  fancy,  things  keep  their  course  ;  and  the  habi- 
tudes, correspondencies,  and  relations,  keep  the  *<)vi  to  one 
another. 

§    27.    fiESIGNATlok,. 

Contrary  to  these,  but  by  a  like  dangerous  excess,  on  the 
■'ther  side,  are  those  who  always  resign  their  Judgment  to  the 
last  man  they  heard  or  read.  Truth  never  sinks  into  these 
men's  minds,  nor  gives  any  tincture  to  them  ;  but  cameleon- 
like,  they  take  the  colour  of  what  is  laid  before  them,  and  as 

»oon  lose  and  cesign  it  to  the  next  that  happens  to  come  in 
their  way.  Tin;  order  wherein  opinions  are  proposed,  or 
received  by  us,  is  no  rule  of  their  rectitude,  nor  ought  to  be  a 

•aiisc  of  their  preference.  First  or  last,  in  (his  case,  is  the 
effect  of  chance,  and  not  the  measure  of  truth  or  falsehood. 
This  every-one  must  confess,  and  therefore  should  in  the  pur- 


&92  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 

siiit  of  truth,  keep  his  mind  free  from  the  influence  of  any  such 
accidents.  A  man  may  as  reasonably  draw  cuts  for  his  tenets, 
regulate  his  persuasion  by  the  cast  of  a  die,  as  take  it  up  for  its 
novelty,  or  retain  it  because  it  had  his  first  assent,  and  he  was 
never  of  another  mind.  Well-weighed  reasons  are  to  detennine 
the  judgment ;  those  the  mind  should  be  always  ready  to 
hearken  and  submit  to,  and  by  their  testimony  and  suffrage 
entertain  or  reject  any  tenet  indifferently,  whether  it  be  a  perfect 
stranger,  or  an  old  acquaintance. 

§  28.    PRACTICE. 

Though  the  faculties  of  the  mind  are  improved  by  exercise, 
yet  they  must  not  be  put  to  a  stress   beyond  their  strength. 
Quid  valeant  humeri,  quid  ferre  recusent,  must   be    made    the 
measure  of  every  one's  understanding,  who  has  a  desire  not  only 
to  perform  well,  but  to  keep  up  the  vigour  of  his  faculties  ;  and 
not  to  baulk  his  understanding  by  what  is  too  hard  for  it.     The 
mind,  by  being  engaged  in  a  task  beyond  its  strength,  like  the 
body,  strained  by  lifting   at   a  weight  too  heavy,  has  often  its 
force  broken,  and  thereby  gets  an  unaptness,  or  an  aversion, 
to  any  vigorous  attempt  ever  after.     A  sinew  cracked  seldom 
recovers  its  former  strength,  or  at  least  the  tenderness  of  the 
sprain  remains  a  good  while  after,  and  the  memory  of  it  longer, 
and  leaves  a  lasting  caution  in  the  man,  not  to  put  the  part 
quickly  again  to  any  robust  employment.      So  it  fares  in  the 
mind  once  jaded  by  an  attempt  above  its  power ;    it  either  is 
disabled  for  the  future,  or  else  checks  at  any  vigorous  under- 
taking ever  after  ;    at  least  is  very  hardly  brought  to  exert  it? 
force  again  on  any  subject  that  requires  thought  and  meditation. 
The  understanding  should  be  brought  to  the  difficult  and  knotty 
parts  of  knowledge,  that  try  the  strength  of  thought,  and  a  full 
bent  of  the  mind,  by  insensible  degrees  ;  and  in  such  a  gradual 
proceeding  nothing  is  too  hard  for  it.     Nor  let  it  be  objected, 
that  such  a  slow  progress  will  never  reach  the  extent  of  some 
sciences.     It  is   not  to  be  imagined  how  far   constancy  will 
cany  a  man  ;  however,  it  is  better  walking  slowly  in  a  rugged 
way,  than  to  break  a  leg  and  be  a  cripple.     He  that  begins 
with  the  fail'  may  carry  the  ox  ;  but  he  that  will  at  first  go  to 
take  up  an  ox,  ma)7  so  disable  himself  as  not  to  be  able  to  lilt 
up  a  calf  after  that.     When  the  mind,  by  insensible  degrees, 
has  brought  itself  to  attention  and  close  thinking,  it  will  be  able 
to  cope  with  difficulties,  and  master  them  without  any  prejudice 
to    itself,  and    then   it   may  go   on  roundly.     Every  abstruse 
problem,  every  intricate  question,  will  not  baffle,  discourage,  or 
break  it.     But  though  putting  the  mind  unprepared  upon  an 
unusual  stress,  that  may  discourage  or  damp  it  for  the  future, 
ought  to  be  avoided  ;  yet  this  must  not  run  it  by  an  over-great 
shyness  of  dillieulties,  into  a  lazy  sauntering  about  ordinary  and 
^bvions  +lii!i^s.  that  demand  no  thought  or  application.     Thi« 


CONDUCT  OF  THE  l£tfn£W3TANDIN£  f>9J 

debases  and  enervates  the  understanding,  makes  it  weak  and 
unfit  for  labour.  This  is  a  sort  of  hovering  about  the  surfaee 
of  things,  without  any  insight  into  them  or  penetration  ;  and 
when  the  mind  has  been  once  habituated  to  this  lazy  recum- 
bency and  satisfaction  on  the  obvious  surface  of  things,  it  is  in 
danger  to  rest  satisfied  there,  and  go  no  deeper ;  since  it  cannot 
do  it  without  pains  and  digging.  He  that  has  for  some  time 
accustomed  himself  to  take  up  with  what  easily  offers  itself  at 
first  view,  has  reason  to  fear  he  shall  never  reconcile  himself 
to  the  fatigue  of  turning  and  tumbling  things  in  his  mind,  to 
discover  their  more  retired  and  more  valuable  secrets. 

It  is  not  strange  that  methods  of  learning  which  scholars 
have  been  accustomed  to  in  their  beginning  and  entrance  upon 
the  sciences,  should  influence  them  all  their  lives,  and  be  settled 
in  their  minds  by  an  overruling  reverence  ;  especially  if  they 
be  such  as  universal  use  has  established.  Learners  must  at. 
first  be  believers,  and  their  masters'  rules  having  been  once, 
made  axioms  to  them,  it  is  no  wonder  they  should  keep  that 
dignity,  and,  by  the  authority  they  have  once  got,  mislead  those 
who  think  it  sufficient  to  excuse  them,  if  they  go  out  of  their 
way  in  a  well-beaten  track. 

§  29.    WORDS. 

I  have  copiously  enough  spoken  of  the  abuse  of  words  in 
another  place,  and  therefore  shall  upon  this  reflection,  that  the 
sciences  are  full  of  them,  warn  those  that  would  conduct  their 
understandings  right  not  to  take  any  term,  howsoever  authorized 
by  the  language  of  the  schools,  to  stand  for  any  thing  till  they 
have  an  idea  of  it.  A  word  may  be  of  frequent  use,  and  great 
credit,  with  several  authors,  and  be  by  them  made  use  of  as  if 
it  stood  for  some  real  being  ;  but  yet,  if  he  that  reads  cannot 
frame  any  distinct  idea  of  that  being,  it  is  certainly  to  him  a  mere 
empty  sound  without  a  meaning  ;  and  he  learns  no  more  by  ali 
that  is  said  of  it,  or  attributed  to  it,  than  if  it  were  affirmed  only 
of  that  bare  empty  sound.  They  who  would  advance  in  know- 
ledge, and  not  deceive  and  swell  themselves  with  a  little 
articulated  air,  should  lay  down  this  as  a  fundamental  rule,  not 
to  take  words  for  things,  nor  suppose  that  names  in  book-; 
signify  real  entities  in  nature,  till  they  can  frame  clear  and  dis- 
tinct ideas  of  those  entities.  It  will  not  perhaps  be  allowed,  if 
I  should  set  down  "  substantial  forms"  and  "intentional  species/* 
as  such  that  may  justly  be  suspected  to  be  of  this  kind  of  insig- 
nificant terms  :  but  this  I  am  sure,  to  one  that  can  form  no 
determined  ideas  of  what  they  stand  for,  they  signify  nothing  at 
all ;  and  all  that  he  thinks  he  knows  about  them  is  to  him  so 
much  knowledge  about  nothing,  and  amounts  at  most  but  to  be. 
a  learned  ignorance.  It  is  not  without  all  reason  s imposed  that 
there  are  many  such  empty  terms  to  be  found  in  some  learned 
writers,  to  whrch  they  had  recourse  u>  etch  out  their  systems, 

Vol.  II.  38 


294  CONDUCT  OF  THE   Li\DERSTAiS!DiN(. 

where  their  understandings  could  not  furnish  them  with  concep- 
tions from  things.  But  yet  I  believe  the  supposing  of  some 
realities  in  nature,  answering  those  and  the  like  words,  have 
much  perplexed  some,  and  quite  misled  others  in  the  study  of 
nature.  That  which  in  any  discourse  signifies,  "  I  know  not 
what,"  should  be  considered  "  I  know  not  when."  Where  men 
have  any  conceptions,  they  can,  if  they  are  never  so  abstruse  or 
abstracted,  explain  them,  and  the  terms  they  use  for  them. 
For  our  conceptions  being  nothing  but  ideas,  which  are  all 
made  up  of  simple  ones  :  if  they  cannot  give  us  the  ideas  their 
words  stand  for,  it  is  plain  they  have  none.  To  what  purpose 
can  it  be  to  hunt  after  his  conceptions  who  has  none,  or  none 
distinct  ?  He  that  knew  not  what  he  himself  meant  by  a 
learned  term  cannot  make  us  know  any  thing  by  his  use  of  it* 
let  us  beat  our  heads  about  it  never  so  long.  Whether  we  are  able  to 
comprehend  all  the  operations  of  nature,  and  the  manners  of 
them,  it  matters  not  to  inquire  ;  but  this  is  certain,  that  we  can 
comprehend  no  more  of  them  than  we  can  distinctly  conceive  ; 
and  therefore  to  obtrude  terms  where  we  have  no  distinct  con- 
ceptions, as  if  they  did  contain  or  rather  conceal  something,  is 
but  an  artifice  of  learned  vanity  to  cover  a  defect  in  a  hypo- 
thesis or  our  understandings.  Words  are  not  made  to  conceal, 
but  to  declare  and  show  something  ;  where  they  are  by  those, 
who  pretend  to  instruct,  otherwise  used,  they  conceal  indeed 
something ;  but  that  that  they  conceal  is  nothing  but  the  igno- 
rance, error,  or  sophistry  of  the  talker ;  for  there  is,  in  truth* 
nothing  else  under  them. 

§  30.    WANDERING. 

That  there  is  a  constant  succession  and  flux  of  ideas  in  our 
minds,  I  have  observed  in  the  former  part  of  this  Essay ;  and 
every  one  may  take  notice  of  it  in  himself.  This,  I  suppose, 
may  deserve  some  part  of  our  care  in  the  conduct  of  our  under- 
standings ;  and  I  think  it  may  be  of  great  advantage,  if  we  can 
by  use  get  that  power  over  our  minds,  as  to  be  able  to  direct 
that  train  of  ideas,  that  so,  since  there  will  new  ones  perpetu- 
ally come  into  our  thoughts  by  a  constant  succession,  we  may 
be  able  by  choice  so  to  direct  them,  that  none  may  come  in  view 
but  such  as  are  pertinent  to  our  present  inquiry,  and  in  such 
order  as  may  be  most  useful  to  the  discovery  we  are  upon  ;  or 
at  least,  if  some  foreign  and  unsought  ideas  will  offer  themselves, 
that  yet  we  might  be  able  to  reject  them,  and  keep  them  from 
taking  off  our  minds  from  its  present  pursuit,  and  hinder  them 
from  running  away  with  our  thoughts  quite  from  the  subject  in 
hand.  This  is  not,  I  suspect,  so  easy  to  be  done  as  perhaps 
may  be  imagined  ;  and  yet,  for  aught  I  know,  this  may  be,  if 
not  the  chief,  yet  one  of  the  great  differences  that  carry  some 
men  in  their  reasoning  so  far  beyond  others,  where  they  seem  to 
be  naturally  of  equal  parts.     A  proper  and  effectual  remedy  for- 


CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  VJo 

this  wandering1  of  thoughts  I  would  be  glad  to  find.  He  that 
shall  propose  such  an  one,  would  do  great  service  to  the  studi- 
ous and  contemplative  part  of  mankind,  and  perhaps  help 
unthinking  men  to  become  thinking.  I  must  acknowledge  that 
hitheito  I  have  discovered  no  other  way  to  keep  our  thoughts 
close  to  their  business,  but  the  endeavouring  as  much  as  we  can, 
and  by  frequent  attention  and  application,  getting  the  habit  of 
attention  and  application.  He  that  will  observe  children  will 
find,  that  even  when  they  endeavour  their  utmost,  they  cannot 
keep  their  minds  from  straggling.  The  way  to  cure  it,  I  am 
satisfied,  is  not  angry  chiding  or  beating,  for  that  presently  fills 
their  heads  with  all  the  ideas  that  fear,  dread,  or  confusion 
can  offer  to  them.  To  bring  back  gently  their  wandering 
thoughts,  by  leading  them  into  the  path,  and  going  before  them 
in  the  train  they  should  pursue,  without  any  rebuke,  or  so  much 
as  taking  notice  (where  it  can  be  avoided)  of  their  roving,  I 
suppose  would  sooner  reconcile  and  inure  them  to  attention 
than  all  those  rougher  methods  which  more  distract  their 
thought,  and,  hindering  the  application  they  would  promote, 
introduce  a  contrary  habit. 

§  31.    DISTINCTION. 

Distinction  and  division  are  (if  I  mistake  not  the  import  of 
the  words)  very  different  things ;  the  one  being  the  perception 
of  a  difference  that  nature  has  placed  in  things  ;  the  other,  our 
making  a  division  where  there  is  yet  none  ;  at  least,  if  I  may  be 
permitted  to  consider  them  in  this  sense,  I  think  I  may  say  of 
them  that  one  of  them  is  the  most  necessary  and  conducive 
to  true  knowledge  that  can  be  ;  the  other,  when  too  much 
made  use  of,  serves  only  to  puzzle  and  confound  the  understand- 
ing. To  observe  every  the  least  difference  that  is  in  things 
argues  a  quick  and  clear  sight ;  and  this  keeps  the  understand- 
ing steady,  and  right  in  its  way  to  knowledge.  But  though  it 
be  useful  to  discern  every  variety  that  is  to  be  found  in  nature, 
yet  it  is  not  convenient  to  consider  every  difference  that  is  in 
things,  and  divide  them  into  distinct  classes  under  every  such 
difference.  This  will  run  us,  if  followed,  into  particulars  (for 
every  individual  has  something  that  differences  it  from  another,) 
and  we  shall  be  able  to  establish  no  general  truths,  or  else  at  least 
shall  be  apt  to  perplex  the  mind  about  them.  The  collection  of 
several  tilings  into  several  classes  gives  the  mind  more  general 
and  larger  views  ;  but  we  must  take  care  to  unite  them  only  in 
that,  and  so  far  as  they  do  agree,  for  so  far  they  may  be  united 
under  the  consideration  :  for  entity  itself,  that  comprehends  all 
things,  as  general  as  it  is,  may  afford  us  clear  and  rational  con- 
ceptions. If  we  would  weigh  and  keep  in  our  minds  what  it  is 
wre  are  considering,  that  would  best  instruct  us  when  we  should 
or  should  not  branch  into  farther  distinctions,  which  are  to  be 
taken  only  from  a  due  contemplation  of  things  :  to  which  there 


-;>!>6  co.\I)li:l    OF   TitK    LTSD»RSTA5l»IfSlt 

is  nothing  more  opposite  than  the  art  of  verbal  distinctions, 
made  at  pleasure  in  learned  and  arbitrarily  invented  terms,  to  be 
applied  at  a  venture,  without  comprehending  or  conveying  any 
distinct  notions  ;  and  so  altogether  fitted  to  artificial  talk,  or 
empty  noise  in  dispute,  without  any  clearing  of  difficulties,  or 
advance  in  knowledge.     Whatsoever  subject  we  examine  and 
would  get  knowledge  in,  we  should,  I  think,  make  as  general 
and  as  large  as  it  will  bear  ;  nor  can  there  be  any  danger  of 
this,  if  the  idea  of  it  be  settled  and  determined  :  for  if  that  be 
so,  we  shall  easily  distinguish  it  from  any  other  idea,  though 
comprehended  under  the  same  name.     For  it  is  to  fence  against 
the  entanglements  of  equivocal  words,   and   the  great  art  of 
sophistry  which  lies  in  them,  that  distinctions  have  been  multi- 
plied, and  their  use  thought  so  necessary.     But  had  every  dis- 
tinct abstract  idea  a  distinct  known  name,  there  would  be  little 
need  of  these  multiplied  scholastic  distinctions,  though  there 
would  be  nevertheless  as  much  need  still  of  the  mind's  observing 
the  differences  that  are  in  things,  and  discriminating  them  there- 
by one  from  another.     It  is  not,  therefore,  the  right  way  to 
knowledge,  to  hunt  after  and  fill  the  head  with  abundance  of 
artificial  and  scholastic  distinctions,  wherewith  learned  men's 
writings  are  often  filled  :  we  sometimes  find  what  they  treat  oi 
so  divided  and  subdivided,  that  the  mind  of  the  most  attentive 
reader  loses  the  sight  of  it,  as  it  is  more  than  probable  the  wri- 
ter himself  did  ;  for  in  things  crumbled  into  dust  it  is  in  vain  to 
affect  or  pretend  order,  or  expect  clearness.     To  avoid  confu- 
sion, by  too  few  or  too  many  divisions,  is  a  great  skill  in  think- 
big  as  well  as  writing,  which  is  but  the  copying  our  thoughts  ; 
but  what  are  the  boundaries  of  the  mean  between  the  two  vicious 
excesses  on  both  hands,  I  think  is  hard  to  set  down  in  words  : 
clear  and  distinct  ideas  is  all  that  I  yet  know  able  to  regulate  it 
But  as  to  verbal  distinctions  received  and  applied  to  common 
terms,  i,  e.  equivocal  words,  they  are  more  properly,  I  think,  the 
business  of  criticisms  and  dictionaries  than  of  real  knowledge 
and  philosophy  ;  since  they,   for   the  most  part,  explain  the 
meaning  of  words,  and  give  us  their  several  significations.     The 
dexterous  management  of  terms,  and  being  able  to  fend  and 
prove  with  them,  I  know  has  and  does  pass  in  the  world  for  a 
great  part  of  learning ;  but  it  is  learning  distinct  from  know- 
ledge ;  for  knowledge  consists  only  in  perceiving  the  habitudes 
and  relations  of  ideas  one  to  another,  which  is  done  without 
words ;  the  intervention  of  a  sound  helps  nothing  to  it.     And 
hence  we  see  that  there  is  least  use  of  distinctions  where  there 
is  most  knowledge  ;  I  mean  in  mathematics,  where  men  have 
determined  ideas,  without  known  names  to  them ;  and  so  there 
being  no  room  for  equivocations,  there  is  no  need  of  distinc- 
tions.    In  arguing,  the  opponent  uses  as  comprehensive  and 
equivocal  terms  as  he  can,  to  involve  his  adversary  in  the  doubt- 
fulness of  Iris  expressions  :  this  is  expected,  and  therefore  the 


CONDUCT  OK  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  xJ97 

answerer  on  his  side  makes  it  his  play  to  distinguish  as  much  as 
he  can,  and  thinks  he  can  never  do  it  too  much  ;  nor  can  he 
indeed  in  that  way  wherein  victory  may  be  had  without  truth 
and  without  knowledge.  This  seems  to  me  to  be  the  art  of 
disputing.  Use  your  words  as  captiously  as  you  can  in  your 
arguing  on  one  side,  and  apply  distinctions  as  much  as  you  can 
on  the  other  side  to  every  term,  to  nonplus  your  opponent ;  so 
that  in  this  sort  of  scholarship,  there  being  no  bounds  set  to  dis- 
tinguishing, some  men  have  thought  all  ucuteness  to  have  lain  in 
it ;  and  therefore  in  all  they  have  read  or  thought  on,  their  great 
business  has  been  to  amuse  themselves  with  distinctions,  and 
multiply  to  themselves  divisions  ;  at  least,  more  than  the  nature 
of  the  thing  required.  There  seems  to  me,  as  I  said,  to  be  no 
other  rule  for  this,  but  a  due  and  right  consideration  of  things 
as  they  are  in  themselves.  He  that  has  settled  in  his  mind 
determined  ideas,  with  names  affixed  to  them,  will  be  able  both 
to  discern  their  differences  one  from  another,  which  is  really 
distinguishing ;  and,  where  the  penury  of  words  affords  not 
terms  answering  every  distinct  idea,  will  be  able  to  apply  proper 
distinguishing  terms  to  the  comprchesive  and  equivocal  names 
he  is  forced  to  make  use  of.  This  is  all  the  need  I  know  of 
distinguishing  terms  ;  and  in  such  verbal  distinctions,  each  term 
of  the  distinction,  joined  to  that  whose  signification  it  distin- 
guishes, is  but  a  distinct  name  for  a  distinct  idea.  Where  they 
are  so,  and  men  have  clear  and  distinct  conceptions  that  answer 
their  verbal  distinctions,  they  are  right,  and  are  pertinent  as  far 
as  they  serve  to  clear  any  thing  in  the  subject  under  considera- 
tion. And  this  is  that  which  seems  to  me  the  proper  and  only, 
measure  of  distinctions  and  divisions  ;  which  he  that  will  con- 
duct his  understanding  right  must  not  look  for  in  the  acuteness 
of  invention,  nor  the  authority  of  writers,  but  will  find  only  in 
the  consideration  of  things  themselves,  whether  he  is  led  into 
it  by  his  own  meditations,  or  the  information  of  books. 

An  aptness  to  jumble  things  together,  wherein  can  be  found 
any  likeness,  is  a  fault  in  the  understanding  on  the  other  side, 
which  will  not  fail  to  mislead  it,  and  by  thus  lumping  of  things 
hinder  the  mind  from  distinct  and  accurate  conceptions  of  them 

§32.    SIMILES. 

To  which  let  me  here  add  another  near  of  kin  to  this,  at  least 
in  name,  and  that  is  letting  the  mind,  upon  the  suggestion  of  any 
new  notion,  run  immediately  after  similes  to  make  it  the  clearer 
to  itself ;  which,  though  it  may  be  a  good  way,  and  useful  in  the 
explaining  our  thoughts  to  others  ;  yet  it  is  by  no  means  a  right 
method  to  settle  true  notions  of  anv  thing  in  ourselves,  because 
similes  always  fail  in  some  part,  and  come  short  of  that  exact- 
ness which  our  conceptions  should  have  to  things,  if  we  would 
think  aright.  This  indeed  makes  men  plausible  talkers  ;  for 
those  are   always   -Most  acceptable  in  discourse  who  have  the 


„J98  CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 

way  to  let  their  thoughts  into  other  men's  minds  with  the  great- 
est ease  and  facility  ;  whether  those  thoughts  are  well  formed 
and  correspond  with  things,  matters  not ;  few  men  care  to  be 
instructed  but  at  an  easy  rate.  They,  who  in  their  discourse 
strike  the  fancy,  and  take  the  hearers'  conceptions  along  with 
them  as  fast  as  their  words  flow,  are  the  applauded  talkers,  and 
go  for  the  only  men  of  clear  thoughts.  Nothing  contributes  so 
much  to  this  as  similes,  whereby  men  think  they  themselves 
understand  better,  because  they  are  the  better  understood. 
But  it  is  one  thing  to  think  right,  and  another  thing  to  know  the 
right  way  to  lay  our  thoughts  before  others  with  advantage  and 
clearness,  be  they  right  or  wrong.  Well-chosen  similes,  meta- 
phors, and  allegories,  with  method  and  order,  do  this  the  best  of 
any  thing,  because  being  taken  from  objects  already  known,  and 
familiar  to  the  understanding,  they  are  conceived  as  fast  as  spo- 
ken ;  and  the  correspondence  being  concluded,  the  thing  they 
are  brought  to  explain  and  elucidate  is  thought  to  be  understood 
too.  Thus  fancy  passes  for  knowledge,  and  what  is  prettily  said 
is  mistaken  for  solid.  I  say  not  this  to  decry  metaphor,  or  with 
design  to  take  away  that  ornament  of  speech ;  my  business 
here  is  not  with  rhetoricians  and  orators,  but  with  philosophers 
and  lovers  of  truth  ;  to  whom  I  would  beg  leave  to  give  this 
one  rule  whereby  to  try  whether,  in  the  application  of  their 
thoughts  to  any  thing  for  the  improvement  of  their  knowledge, 
they  do  in  truth  comprehend  the  matter  before  them  really  such 
as  it  is  in  itself.  The  way  to  discover  this  is  to  observe  whe- 
ther, in  the  laying  it  before  themselves  or  others,  they  make  use 
only  of  borrowed  representations,  and  ideas  foreign  to  the 
things  which  are  applied  to  it  by  way  of  accommodation,  as 
bearing  some  proportion  or  imagined  likeness  to  the  subject 
under  consideration.  Figured  and  metaphorical  expressions  do 
well  to  illustrate  more  abstruse  and  unfamiliar  ideas  which  the 
mind  is  not  yet  thoroughly  accustomed  to  ;  but  then  they  must 
be  made  use  of  to  illustrate  ideas  that  we  already  have,  not  to 
paint  to  us  those  which  we  yet  have  not.  Such  borrowed  and 
allusive  ideas  may  follow  real  and  solid  truth,  to  set  it  off  when 
found  ;  but  must  by  no  means  be  set  in  its  place,  and  taken  for 
it.  If  all  our  search  has  yet  reached  no  farther  than  simile  and 
metaphor,  we  may  assure  ourselves  we  rather  fancy  than  know, 
and  have  not  yet  penetrated  into  the  inside  and  reality  of  the 
thing,  be  it  what  it  will,  but  content  ourselves  with  what  our 
imaginations,  not  things  themselves,  furnish  us  with. 

§33.    ASSENT. 

In  the  whole  conduct  of  the  understanding  there  is  nothing 
of  more  moment  than  to  know  when  and  where,  and  how  far 
to  give  assent  ;  and  possibly  there  is  nothing  harder.  It  is  very 
easily  said,  and  nobody  questions  it,  that  giving  and  withholding 
our  assent,  and  the  degrees  of  it.  should  be  regulated  by  thp 


CONDUCT    OF    THE    UNDEUSTANDIiVi.  299 

evidence  which  things  carry  with  them  ;  and  yet  we  see  men 
are  not  the  better  for  this  rule  :  some  firmly  embrace  doctrines 
upon  slight  grounds,  some  upon  no  grounds,  and  some  contrary 
to  appearance  :  some  admit  of  certainty,  and  are  not  to  be 
moved  in  what  they  hold  :  others  waver  in  every  thing,  and 
there  want  not  those  that  reject  all  as  uncertain.  What  then 
shall  a  novice,  an  inquirer,  a  stranger  do  in  the  case  ?  I  an- 
swer, use  his  eyes.  There  is  a  correspondence  in  things,  and 
agreement  and  disagreement  in  ideas,  discernible  in  very  differ- 
ent degrees,  and  there  are  eyes  in  men  to  see  them,  if  they 
please  :  only  their  eyes  may  be  dimmed  or  dazzled,  and  the 
discerning  sight  in  them  impaired  or  lost.  Interest  and  passion 
dazzle  ;  the  custom  of  arguing  on  any  side,  even  against  our 
persuasions,  dims  the  understanding,  and  makes  it  by  degrees 
lose  the  faculty  of  discerning  clearly  between  truth  and  false- 
hood, and  so  of  adhering  to  the  right  side.  It  is  not  safe  to  play 
with  error,  and  dress  it  up  to  ourselves  or  others  in  the  shape 
of  truth.  The  mind  by  degrees  loses  its  natural  relish  of  real 
solid  truth,  is  reconciled  insensibly  to  any  thing  that  can  be 
dressed  up  into  any  faint  appearance  of  it  ;  and  if  the  fancy  be 
allowed  the  place  of  judgment  at  first  in  sport,  it  afterward 
comes  by  use  to  usurp  it ;  and  what  is  recommended  by  this 
flatterer  (that  studies  but  to  please,)  is  received  for  good. 
There  are  so  many  ways  of  fallacy,  such  arts  of  giving  colours, 
appearances,  and  resemblances  by  this  court-dresser,  the  fancy, 
that  he  who  is  not  wary  to  admit  nothing  but  truth  itself,  very 
careful  not  to  make  his  mind  subservient  to  any  thing  else,  can- 
not but  be  caught.  He  that  has  a  mind  to  believe,  has  half  assent- 
ed already ;  and  he  that,  by  often  arguing  against  his  own 
sense,  imposes  falsehood  on  others,  is  not  far  from  believing- 
himself.  This  takes  away  the  great  distance  there  is  betwixt 
truth  and  falsehood  ;  it  brings  them  almost  together,  and  makes 
it  no  great  odds,  in  things  that  approach  so  near, which  you  take  ; 
and  when  things  are  brought  to  that  pass,  passion  or  interest, 
&c.  easily  and  without  being  perceived,  determine  which  shall 
be  the  right. 

§  34.    IXDIFFERKSCY. 

1  have  said  above,  that  we  should  keep  a  perfect  indifterency 
for  all  opinions,  not  wish  any  of  them  true,  or  try  to  make  them 
appear  so  ;  but  being  indifferent,  receive  and  embrace  them 
according  as  evidence,  and  that  alone,  gives  the  attestation  of 
truth.  They  that  do  thus,  i.  e.  keep  their  minds  indifferent  to 
opinions,  to  be  determined  only  by  evidence,  will  always  find 
the  understanding  has  perception  enough  to  distinguish  between 
evidence  and  no  evidence,  betwixt  plain  and  doubtful  ;  and  if 
they  neither  give  nor  refuse  their  assent  but  by  that  measure, 
they  will  be  safe  in  the  opinions  they  have.  Which  being  per- 
haps but  few.  this  caution  will  have  also  this  jrood  in  it,  that  it 


800  COJiDUCT   OP    THE   UNDERSTANDING. 

will  put  them  upon  considering,  and  teach  them  the  necessity  of 
examining  more  than  they  do  ;  without  which  the  mind  is  but  a 
receptacle  of  inconsistencies,  not  the  store-house  of  truths. 
They  that  do  not  keep  up  this  indifferency  in  themselves  for  all 
but  truth,  not  supposed,  but  evidenced  in  themselves,  put  colour- 
ed spectacles  before  their  eyes,  and  look  on  things  through  false 
glasses,  and  then  think  themselves  excused  in  following  the  false 
appearances  which  they  themselves  put  upon  them.     I  do  not 
expect  that  by  this  way  the  assent  should  in  every  one  be  pro- 
portioned to  the  grounds  and  clearness  wherewith  every  truth  is 
capable  to  be  made  out ;  or  that  men  should  be  perfectly  kept 
from  error  :  that  is  more  than  human  nature  can  by  any  means 
be  advanced  to  ;  I  aim  at  no  such  unattainable  privilege  ;  I  am 
only  speaking  of  what  they  should  do,  who  would  deal  fairly  with 
their  own  minds,  and  make  a  right  use  of  their  faculties  in  the 
pursuit  of  truth ;  we  fail  them  a  great  deal  more  than  they  fail 
us.     It  is  mismanagement  more  than  want  of  abilities  that  men 
have  reason  to  complain  of,  and  which  they  actually  do  complain 
of  in  those  that  differ  from  them.     He  that  by  indifferency  for 
all  but  truth  suffers  not  his  assent  to  go  faster  than  his  evidence, 
nor  beyond  it,  will  learn  to  examine,  and  examine  fairly  instead 
of  presuming,  and  nobody  will  be  at  a  loss,   or  in  danger  for 
want  of  embracing  those  truths  which  are  necessary  in  his  sta- 
tion and  circumstances.     In  any  other  way  but  this,   all  the 
world  are  born  to  orthodoxy ;  they  imbibe  at  first  the  allowed 
opinions  of  their  country  and  party,  and  so  never  questioning 
their  truth,  not  one  of  an  hundred  ever  examines.     They  are 
applauded  for  presuming  they  are  in  the  right.     He  that  consi- 
ders is  a  foe  to  orthodoxy,  because  possibly  he  may  deviate  from 
some  of  the  received  doctrines  there.     And  thus  men,  without 
any  industry  or  acquisition  of  their  own,  inherit  local  truths  (for 
it  is  not  the  same  every  where)  and  are  inured  to  assent  with- 
out evidence.     This  influences  farther  than  is  thought  ;  for  what 
one  of  an  hundred  of  the  zealous  bigots  in  all  parties  ever  exa- 
mined the  tenets  he  is  so  stiff  in,  or  ever  thought  it  his  business 
or  duty  so  to  do  ?  It  is  suspected  of  lukewarmness  to  suppose 
it  necessary,  and  a  tendency  to  apostacy  to  go  about  it.     And 
if  a  man  can  bring  his  mind  once  to  be  positive  and  fierce  for 
positions  whose  evidence  he  has  never  once  examined,  and  that 
in  matters  of  greatest  concernment  to  him ;  what  shall  keep 
him  from  this  short  and  easy  way  of  being  in  the  right  in  cases 
of  less  moment  ?  Thus  we   are  taught  to  clothe  our  minds  as 
we  do  our  bodies,  after  the  fashion  in  vogue,  and  it  is  accounted 
fantasticalness,  or  something  worse,  not  to  do  so.     This  cus- 
tom (which  who  dares  oppose  ?)  makes  the  short-sighted  bigots, 
and  the  warier  skeptics,  as  far  as  it  prevails  :  and  those  that 
break  from  it  are  in  danger  of  heresy :  for  taking  the  whole 
world,  how  much  of  it  doth  truth  and  orthodoxy  possess  toge- 
ther ?  Though  it  is  by  the  last  alone  (which  has  the  good  lack 


t  OftDUCT  Oh'  Ml  J.   1  K.DIiRSTASDjtNjK.  JOi 

to  be  every  where)  that  error  and  heresy  are  judged  of:  for 
argument  and  evidence  signify  nothing  in  the  ease,  and  excuse 
nowhere,  but  are  sure  to  be  borne  down  in  all  societies  by  the 
infallible  orthodoxy  of  the  place.  Yv'hether  this  be  the  way  to 
truth  and  right  assent,  let  the  opinions,  that  take  place  and  pre- 
scribe in  the  several  habitable  parts  of  the  earth,  declare.  1 
never  saw  any  reason  yet  why  truth  might  not  be  trusted  on  its 
own  evidence  :  I  am  sure  if  that  be  not  able  to  support  it,  there 
is  no  fence  against  error  ;  and  then  truth  and  falsehood  arc  but 
names  that  stand  for  the  same  things.  Evidence  therefore  is 
that  by  which  alone  every  man  is  (and  should  be)  taught  to 
regulate  his  asent,  who  is  then,  and  then  only,  in  the  right  wav, 
when  he  follows  it. 

Men  deficient  in  knowledge  are  usually  in  one  of  these  three 
states  ;  either  wholly  ignorant,  or  as  doubting  of  some  proposi- 
tion they  have  either  embraced  formerly,  or  are  at  present 
inclined  to ;  or  lastly,  they  do  with  assurance  hold  and  profess 
without  ever  having  examined,  and  being  convinced  by  well- 
grounded  arguments. 

The  first  of  these  are  in  the  best  state  of  the  three,  by  having 
their  minds  yet  in  their  perfect  freedom  and  indifferency ;  the 
likelier  to  pursue  truth  the  better,  having  no  bias  yet  clapped  on 
to  mislead  them. 

§  35. 

For  ignorance,  with  an  indifterency  for  truth,  is  nearer  to  it 
than  opinion  with  ungrounded  inclination,  which  is  the  great 
source  of  error ;  and  they  are  more  in  danger  to  go  out  of  the 
Avay  who  are  marching  under  the  conduct  of  a  guide,  that  it  is 
a  hundred  to  one  will  mislead  them,  than  he  that  has  not  yet 
taken  a  step,  and  is  likelier  to  be  prevailed  on  to  inquire  after 
the  right  way.  The  last  of  the  three  sorts  are  in  the  worst, 
condition  of  all ;  for  if  a  man  can  be  persuaded  and  fully  assu- 
red of  any  thing  for  a  truth,  without  having  examined,  what  is 
there  that  he  may  not  embrace  for  truth  ?  and  if  he  has  given 
himself  up  to  believe  a  lie,  what  means  is  there  left  to  recover 
one  who  can  be  assured  without  examining  ?  To  the  other  two 
this  I  crave  leave  to  say,  that  as  he  that  is  ignorant  is  in  the  best 
state  of  the  two,  so  he  should  pursue  truth  in  a  method  suitable 
to  that  state ;  i.  e.  by  inquiring  directly  into  the  nature  of  the 
thing  itself,  without  minding  the  opinions  of  others,  or  troubling 
himself  with  their  questions  or  disputes  about  it ;  but  to  see  what 
he  himself  can,  sincerely  searching  after  truth,  find  out.  He 
that  proceeds  upon  other  principles  in  his  inquiry  into  any 
sciences,  though  he  be  resolved  to  examine  them  and  judge  of 
them  freely,  does  yet  at  least  put  himself  on  that  side,  and  post 
himself  in  a  party  which  he  will  not  quit  till  he  be  beaten  out ; 
"by  which  the  mind  is  insensibly  engaged  to  make  what  defence 
it  can,   and  so  is  unawares  biassed.     I  do  not  sav  but  a  man 

Vox.  II.  39 


302  tOiMDUtl   lit  THL   UM)liKSlANDIM,. 

should  embrace  some  opinion  when  he  has  examined,  else  he 
examines  to  no  purpose  ;  but  the  surest  and  safest  way  is  to 
have  no  opinion  at  all  till  he  has  examined,  and  that  without  any 
the  least  regard  to  the  opinions  or  systems  of  other  men  about 
it.  For  example,  were  it  my  business  to  understand  physic, 
would  not  the  safe  and  readier  way  be  to  consult  nature  herself, 
and  inform  myself  in  the  history  of  diseases  and  their  cures  ; 
than  espousing  the  principles  of  the  dogmatists,  methodists,  or 
chymists,  to  engage  in  all  the  disputes  concerning  either  of  those 
systems,  and  suppose  it  to  be  true,  till  I  have  tried  what  they 
can  say  to  beat  me  out  of  it  ?  Or,  supposing  that  Hippocrates, 
or  any  other  book,  infallibly  contains  the  whole  art  of  physic  ; 
would  not  the  direct  way  be  to  study,  read,  and  consider  that 
book,  weigh  and  compare  the  parts  of  it  to  find  the  truth,  rather 
than  espouse  the  doctrines  of  any  party  ?  who,  though  they 
acknowledge  his  authority,  have  already  interpreted  and  wire- 
drawn all  his  text  to  their  own  sense ;  the  tincture  whereof, 
when  I  have  imbibed,  I  am  more  in  danger  to  misunderstand  his 
true  meaning,  than  if  I  had  come  to  him  with  a  mind  unprepos- 
sessed by  doctors  and  commentators  of  my  sect ;  whose  reason- 
ings, interpretation,  and  language,  which  I  have  been  used  to, 
will  of  course  make  all  chime  that  way,  and  make  another,  and 
perhaps  the  genuine  meaning  of  the  author  seem  harsh,  strained, 
and  uncouth  to  me.  For  words  having  naturally  none  of  their 
own,  carry  that  signiticulion  to  the  hearer  that  he  is  used  to  put 
upon  them,  whatever  be  the  sense  of  him  that  uses  them.  This, 
I  think,  is  visibly  so ;  and  if  it  be,  he  that  begins  to  have  any 
doubt  of  any  of  his  tenets,  which  he  received  without  examina- 
tion, ought,  as  much  as  he  can,  to  put  himself  wholly  into  this 
t-tate  of  ignorance  in  reference  to  that  question  ;  and  throwing 
wholly  by  ail  his  former  notions,  and  the  opinions  of  others,  exa- 
mine, with  a  perfect  mdirTereney,  the  question  in  its  source  ; 
without  any  inclination  to  either  side,  or  any  regard  to  his  or 
others'  unexamined  opinions.  This  I  own  is  no  easy  thing  to 
do  ;  but  I  am  not  inquiring  the  easy  way  to  opinion,  but  the 
right  Way  to  truth  ;  which  they  must  follow  who  will  deal  fairly 
with  their  own  understandings  and  their  own  souls. 

The  iudiflferency  that  I  hjbre  propose  will  also  enable  them  to 
state  the  question  right,  which  they  are  in  doubt  about,  with- 
out which  thev  can  never  come  to  a  fair  and  clear  decision 
of  it. 

§  37.    PETElS-EVfiRA-JrCii. 

Another  fruit  from  this  indifl'erency,  and  the  considering  things 
ia  themselves  abstract  from  our  own  opinions  and  other  meii^ 
uotions  and  discourses  on  then!,  will  be,  that  each  man  will  pur- 
sue his  thoughts  in  that  method  which  will  be  most  agreeabte  to 


■  DNDU(  1    QF    Mli.   I   SD1&RS  I  >>;>•  \t.  303 

the  nature  of  the  tiling,  and  to  Ins  apprehension  of  jyhat  it  sug- 
gests to  him  ;  in  which  he  ought  to  proceed  with  regularity  and 

constancy,  until  he  come  to  a  well-grounded  resolution  wherein 
lie  may  acquiesce.  If  it  be  objected  that  this  will  require  every 
man  to  be  a  scholar,  and  quit  all  his  other  business,  and  betake 
himself  wholly  to  study ;  1  answer,  I  propose  no  more  to  any 
one  than  he  has  time  for.  Some  men's  state  and  condition 
requires  no  great  extent  of  knowledge  ;  the  necessary  provision 
lor  life  swallows  the  greatest  part  of  their  time.  But  one  man's 
want  of  leisure  is  no  excuse  for  the  oscitancy  and  ignorance  of 
those  who  have  time  to  spare  ;  and  every  one  lias  enough  to  get: 
as  much  knowledge  ns  is  required  and  expected  of  him,  and  he 
that  does  not  that,  is  in  love  with  ignorance,  arid  is  accountable 
for  it. 

§  38.   i'!u:si  mv vv>\. 

The  variety  of  distempers  in  men's  minds  is  as  great  as  of 
those  in  their  bodies  ;  some  are  epidemic,  few  escape  them  ; 
and  every  one  too,  if  he  would  look  into  himself,  would  find 
some  defect  of  his  particular  genius.  There  is  scarce  any  one 
without  some  idiosyncrasy  that  he  suffers  by.  This  man  pre- 
sumes upon  his  parts,  that  they  will  not  fail  him  at  time  of  need  ; 
and  so  thinks  it  superfluous  labour  to  make  any  provision  before- 
hand. His  understanding  is  to  him  like  Fortunatus's  purse, 
which  is  always  to  furnish  him,  without  ever  putting  any  thing 
into  it  before-hand  ;  and  so  he  sits  still  satisfied,  without  endea- 
vouring to  store  his  understanding  with  knowledge.  It  is  the 
spontaneous  product  of  the  country,  and  what  need  of  labour 
in  tillage  ?  Such  men  may  spread  their  native  riches  before  the 
ignorant ;  but  they  were  best  not  come  to  stress  and  trial  with 
the  skilful.  We  are  born  ignorant  of  every  thing.  The  super- 
ficies of  things  that  surround  them  make  impressions  on  the 
negligent,  but  nobody  penetrates  into  the  inside  without  labour, 
attention,  and  industry.  Stones  and  timber  grow  of  themselves, 
but  yet  there  is  no  uniform  pile  with  symmetry  and  convenience 
to  lodge  in  without  toil  and  pains.  God  has  made  the  intellec- 
tual world  harmonious  and  beautiful  without  us ;  but  it  will  never 
come  into  our  heads  all  at  once  ;  we  must  bring  it  home  piece- 
meal, and  there  set  it  up  by  our  own  industry,  or  else  we  shall 
have  nothing  but  darkness  and  a  chaos  within,  whatever  order 
and  light  there  be  in  things  without  us. 

59.    bfeSPONDEBCY. 

Uu  the  other  side,  there  are  others  that  depress  their  own 
minds,  despond  at  the  first  difficulty,  and  conclude  that  the  get- 
ting an  insight  in  any  of  the  sciences,  or  making  any  progress 
in  knowledge  farther  than  serves  their  ordinary  business,  is  above 
their  capacities.  These  sit  still,  because  they  think  they  have 
not  legs  to  eo  :  ;is  the  others  I  lost  mentioned  do,  because  they 


,J04  CONDUCT  OK  THE  UNDERSTANBISG. 

think  they  have  wings  to  fly,  and  can  soar  on  high  when  theV 
please.  To  these  latter  one  may  for  answer  apply  the  proverb. 
u  Use  legs  and  have  legs."  Nobody  knows  what  strength  of 
parts  he  has  till  he  has  tried  them.  And  of  the  understanding 
one  may  most  truly  say,  that  its  force  is  greater  generally  than 
it  thinks,  till  it  is  put  to  it.      Viresque  acquirit  eundo. 

And  therefore  the  proper  remedy  here  is  but  to  set  the  mind 
to  work,  and  apply  the  thoughts  vigorously  to  the  business  ;  for 
it  holds  in  the  struggles  of  the  mind  as  in  those  of  war,  "  Dum 
put  ant  se  vincere  vieere  ;"  a  persuasion  that  we  shall  overcome 
any  difficulties  that  we  meet  with  in  the  sciences,  seldom  fails  to 
carry  us  through  them.  Nobody  knows  the  strength  of  his 
mind,  and  the  force  of  steady  and  regular  application,  till  he  has 
tried.  This  is  certain,  he  that  sets  out  upon  weak  legs  will  not 
only  go  farther,  but  grow  stronger  too,  than  one  who,  with  a 
vigorous  constitution  and  firm  limbs,  only  sits  still. 

Something  of  kin  to  this  men  may  observe  in  themselves, 
when  the  mind  frights  itself  (as  it  often  does)  with  any  thing 
reflected  on  in  gross,  and  transiently  viewed  confusedly,  and  at 
a  distance.  Things  thus  offered  to  the  mind  carry  the  show  ot" 
nothing  but  difficulty  in  them,  and  are  thought  to  be  wrapt  up  in 
impenetrable  obscurity.  But  the  truth  is,  these  are  nothing  but 
spectres  that  the  understanding  raises  to  itself  to  flatter  its  own 
laziness.  It  sees  nothing  distinctly  in  things  remote,  and  in  a 
huddle ;  and  therefore  concludes  too  faintly,  that  there  'is 
nothing  more  clear  to  be  discovered  in  them.  It  is  but  to 
approach  nearer,  and  that  mist  of  our  own  raising  that  enve- 
loped them  will  remove  ;  and  those  that  in  that  mist  appeared 
hideous  giants  not  to  be  grappled  with,  will  be  found  to  be 
of  the  ordinary  and  natural  size  and  shape.  Things,  that  in  a 
remote  and  confused  view  seem  very  obscure,  must  be  approach- 
ed by  gentle  and  regular  steps  ;  and  what  is  most  visible,  easy, 
and  obvious  in  them  first  considered.  Reduce  them  into  their 
distinct  parts  ;  and  then  in  their  due  order  bring  all  that  should 
be  kndwn  concerning  every  one  of  those  parts  into  plain  and 
simple  questions  ;  and  then  what  was  thought  obscure,  perplex- 
ed, and  too  hard  for  our  weak  parts,  will  lay  itself  open  to  the 
understanding  in  a  fair  view,  and  let  the  mind  into  that  which 
before  it  was  awed  with,  and  kept  at  a  distance  from,  as  wholly 
mysterious.  I  appeal  to  my  readers  experience,  whether  this 
has  never  happened  to  him,  especially  when,  busy  on  one  thing, 
he  has  occasionally  reflected  on  another.  I  ask  him  whether  he 
has  never  thus  been  scared  with  a  sudden  opinion  of  mighty 
difficulties,  which  yet  have  vanished,  when  he  has  seriously  and 
methodically  applied  himself  to  the  consideration  of  this  seem- 
ing terrible  subject ;  and  there  has  been  no  other  matter  of 
astonishment  left,  but  that  he  amused  himself  with  so  discour- 
aging  a  prospect,  of  his  own  raising,  about  a  matter  which  in 
the  handling  was  found  to  have  nothing  in  it.  more  strange  nor 


CONDUCT    OF    THE    UNDERSTANDING .  30-') 

intricate  than  several  other  things  which  he  had  long-  since  anil 
with  ease  mastered  ?  This  experience  would  teach  us  how  to 
deal  with  such  bugbears  another  time,  which  should  rather 
serve  to  excite  our  vigour  than  enervate  our  industry.  The 
surest  way  for  a  learner  in  this,  as  in  all  other  cases,  is  not  to 
advance  by  jumps  and  large  strides  ;  let  that  which  he  sets  him- 
self to  learn  next  be  indeed  the  next  ;  i.  e.  as  nearly  conjoined 
with  what  he  knows  already  as  is  possible  ;  let  it  be  distinct 
but  not  remote  from  it :  let  it  be  new,  and  what  he  did  not  know 
before,  that  the  understanding  may  advance  ;  but  let  it  be  as 
little  at  once  as  may  be,  that  its  advances  may  be  clear  and  sure. 
All  the  ground  that  it  gets  this  way  it  will  hold.  This  distinct 
gradual  growth  in  knowledge  is  firm  and  sure  ;  it  carries  its  own 
light  with  it  in  every  step  of  its  progression  in  an  easy  and 
orderly  train  ;  than  which  there  is  nothing  of  more  use  to  the 
understanding.  And  though  this  perhaps  may  seem  a  very  slow 
and  lingering  way  to  knowledge,  yet  I  dare  confidently  affirm, 
that  whoever  will  try  it  in  himself,  or  any  one  he  will  teach, 
shall  find  the  advances  greater  in  this  method  than  they  would 
in  the  same  space  of  time  have  been  in  an}r  other  he  could  have 
fallen.  The  greatest  part  of  true  knowledge  lies  in  a  distinct 
perception  of  things  in  themselves  distinct.  And  some  men  give 
more  clear  light  and  knowledge  by  the  bare  distinct  stating  of  a 
question,  than  others  by  talking  of  it  in  gross  whole  hours 
together.  In  this,  they  who  so  state  a  question  do  no  more  but 
separate  and  disentangle  the  parts  of  it  one  from  another,  and 
Jay  them,  when  so  disentangled,  in  their  due  order.  This  often, 
without  any  more  ado,  resolves  the  doubt,  and  shows  the  mind 
where  the  truth  lies.  The  agreement  or  disagreement  of  tin.-, 
ideas  in  question,  when  they  are  once  separated  and  distinctly 
considered,  is,  in  many  cases,  presently  perceived,  and  thereby 
clear  and  lasting  knowledge  gained  ;  whereas  things  in  gross 
taken  up  together,  and  so  lying  together  in  confusion,  can 
produce  in  the  mind  but  a  confused,  which  in  effect  is  no, 
knowledge  ;  or  at  least,  when  it  comes  to  be  examined  and 
made  use  of,  will  prove  little  better  than  none.  I  therefore  take 
the  liberty  to  repeat  here  again  what  I  have  said  elsewhere,  that 
in  learning  any  thing  as  little  should  be  proposed  to  the  mind  at 
once  as  is  possible  ;  and,  that  being  understood  and  fully  mas- 
tered, to  proceed  to  the  next  adjoining  part  yet  unknown, 
simple,  unperplexed  proposition  belonging  to  the  matter  in  hand, 
and  tending  to  the  clearing  what  is  principally  designed. 

§  40.   ANALOGY. 

Analogy  is  of  great  use  to  the  mind  in  many  cases,  especially 
in  natural  philosophy  ;  and  thai  part  of  it  chiefly  whieh  consists 
in  happy  and  successful  experiments.  But  here  we  must  take 
care  that  we  keep  ourselves  within  that  wherein  the  analogy 
consists.     For  example,  the  acid  oil  of  vitriol  is  found  to  h*' 


3 06  COKDU C I   0  V  Til  E   I.  H  D E K b  T  A N  D 1 M  U 

good  in  such  a  case,  therefore  the  spirit  of  nitre  or  vinegar  maj 
be  used  in  the  like  case.  If  the  good  effect  of  it  be  owing 
wholly  to  the  acidity  of  it,  the  trial  may  be  justified  ;  but  if  there 
be  something  else  besides  the  acidity  in  the  oil  of  vitriol  which 
produces  the  good  we  desire  in  the  case,  we  mistake  that  for 
analogy  which  is  not,  and  suffer  our  understanding  to  be  mis- 
guided by  a  Wrong  supposition  of  analogy  where  there  is  none. 

§  41.    ASSOCIATION. 

Though  I  have,  in  the  second  book  of  my  Essay  concerning 
Human  Understanding,  treated  of  the  association  of  ideas  ;  yet 
having  done  it  there  historically,  as  giving  a  view  of  the  under- 
standing in  this  as  well  as  its  several  other  ways  of  operating. 
rather  than  designing  there  to  inquire  into  the  remedies  that 
ought  to  be  applied  to  it ;  it  will,  under  this  latter  consideration, 
afford  other  matter  of  thought  to  those  who  have  a  mind  to 
instruct  themselves  thoroughly  in  the  right  way  of  conducting 
their  understandings  ;  and  that  the  rather,  because  this,  if  I 
mistake  not,  is  as  frequent  a  cause  of  mistake  and  error  in  us  as 
perhaps  anything  else  that  can  be  named,  and  is  a  disease  of 
the  mind  as  hard  to  be  cured  as  any ;  it  being  a  very  hard 
thing  to  convince  any  one  that  things  are  not  so,  and  naturally 
so,  as  they  constantly  appear  to  him. 

By  this  one  easy  and  unheeded  miscarriage  of  the  under- 
standing sandy  and  loose  foundations  become  infallible  principles, 
and  will  not  suffer  themselves  to  be  touched  or  questioned : 
such  unnatural  connexions  become  by  custom  as  natural  to  the 
mind  as  sun  and  light,  fire  and  warmth  go  together,  and  so  seem 
to  carry  with  them  as  natural  .an  evidence  as  self-evident  truths 
themselves.  And  where  then  shall  one  with  hopes  of  success 
begin  the  cure  ?  Many  men  firmly  embrace  falsehood  for  truth, 
not  only  because  they  never  thought  otherwise,  but  also  because, 
thus  blinded  as  they  have  been  from  the  beginning,  they  never 
could  think  otherwise,  at  least  without  a  vigour  of  mind  able  to 
contest  the  empire  of  habit,  and  look  into  its  own  principles  ;  a 
freedom  which  feu7  men  have  the  notion  of  in  themselves,  and 
fewer  are  allowed  the  practice  of  by  others  ;  it  being  the  great 
art  and  business  of  the  teachers  and  guides  in  most  sects  to 
suppress,  as  much  as  they  can,  this  fundamental  duty  which 
every  man  owes  himself,  and  is  the  first  steady  step  towards 
right  and  truth  in  the  whole  -train  of  his  actions  and  opinions. 
This  would  give  one  reason  to  suspect  that  such  teachers  are 
conscious  to  themselves  of  the  falsehood  or  weakness  of  the 
tenets  they  profess,  since  they  will  not  suffer  the  grounds 
whereon  they  are  built  to  be  examined  ;  whereas  those  who 
seek  truth  only,  and  desire  to  own  and  propagate  nothing  else, 
freely  expose  their  principles  to  the  test :  are  pleased  to  have 
them  examined  ;  give  men  leave  to  reject  them  if  they  can  ;  and 
it'  there  be  anv  thine-  weak  and  unsound  in  them,  are  willing-  to 


CONDUCT    Ol'"    THE    UNDERSTANDING.  iiOi 

have  it  detected,  that  they  themselves,  as  well  as  others,  may 
not  lay  any  stress  upon  any  received  proposition  beyond  what 
the  evidence  of  its  truths  will  warrant  and  allow. 

There  is,  I  know,  a  great  fault  among  all  sorts  of  people  of 
prineipling  their  children  and  scholars,  which  at  last,  when 
looked  into,  amounts  to  no  more  but  making  them  imbibe  their 
teacher's  notions  and  tenets  by  an  implicit  faith,  and  firmly  to 
adhere  to  them  whether  true  or  false.  What  colours  may  be 
given  to  this,  or  of  what  use  it  may  be  when  practised  upon  the 
vulgar,  destined  to  labour,  and  given  up  to  the  service  of  their 
bellies,  I  will  not  here  inquire.  But  as  to  the  ingenuous  part  of 
mankind,  whose  condition  allows  them  leisure,  and  letters,  and 
inquiry  after  truth,  I  can  see  no  other  right  way  of  prineipling 
them  but  to  take  heed,  as  much  as  may  be,  that  in  their  tender 
years  ideas  that  have  no  natural  cohesion  come  not  to  be  united 
in  their  heads  ;  and  that  this  rule  be  often  inculcated  to  them  to 
be  their  guide  in  the  whole  course  of  their  lives  and  studies,  viz. 
that  they  never  sutler  any  ideas  to  be  joined  in  their  under- 
standings in  any  other  or  stronger  combination  than  what  their 
own  nature  and  correspondence  give  them,  and  that  they  often 
examine  those  that  they  find  linked  together  in  their  minds, 
whether  this  association  of  ideas  be  from  the  visible  agreement 
that  is  in  the  ideas  themselves,  or  from  the  habitual  and  pre- 
vailing custom  of  the  mind  joining  them  thus  together  in 
thinking. 

This  is  for  caution  against  this  evil,  before  it  be  thoroughly 
rivetted  by  custom  in  the  understanding  ;  but  he  that  would  cure 
it  when  habit  has  established  it,  must  nicely  observe  the  very 
quick  and  almost  imperceptible  motions  of  the  mind  in  its 
habitual  actions.  What  I  have  said  in  another  place  about  the 
change  of  the  ideas  of  sense  into  those  of  judgment,  may  be 
proof  of  this.  Let  any  one  not  skilled  in  painting  be  told,  when 
he  sees  bottles,  and  tobacco-pipes,  and  other  things  so  painted 
as  they  are  in  some  places  shown,  that  he  does  not  see  protu- 
berances, and  you  will  not  convince  him  but  by  the  touch  :  he 
will  not  believe  that,  by  an  instantaneous  legerdemain  •  of  his 
own  thoughts,  one  idea  is  substituted  for  another.  How  fre- 
quent instances  may  one  meet  with  of  this  in  the  arguings  oi 
the  learned,  who  not  seldom,  in  two  ideas  that  they  have  been 
accustomed  to  join  in  their  minds,  substitute  one  for  the  other ; 
and,  I  am  apt  to  think,  often  without  perceiving  it  themselves  I 
This,  whilst  they  are  under  the  deceit  of  it,  makes  them  incapa- 
ble of  conviction,  and  they  applaud  themselves  as  zealous  cham- 
pions for  truth,  when,  indeed,  they  are  contending  for  error. 
And  the  confusion  of  two  different  ideas,  which  a  customary 
connexion  of  them  in  their  minds  hath  made  to  them  almost 
one,  fills  their  head  with  false  views,  and  their  reasonings;  with 
false  consequences. 


308  t/OIMDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 

§  42.    FALLACIES. 

Right  understanding  consists  in  the  discovery  and  adherent  ( 
to  truth,  and  that  in  the  perception  of  the  visible  or  probable 
agreement  or  disagreement  of  ideas,  as  they  are  affirmed  and 
denied  one  of  another.  From  whence  it  is  evident,  that  the 
right  use  and  conduct  of  the  understanding,  whose  business  is 
purely  truth  and  nothing  else,  is,  that  the  mind  should  be  kept 
in  a  perfect  indifferency,  not  inclining  to  either  side,  any  farther 
than  evidence  settles  it  by  knowledge,  or  the  over-balance  of 
probability  gives  it  the  turn  of  assent  and  belief;  but  yet  it  is 
very  hard  to  meet  with  any  discourse  wherein  one  may  not 
perceive  the  author  not  only  maintain  (for  that  is  reasonable 
and  fit)  but  inclined  and  biassed  to  one  side  of  the  question, 
with  marks  of  a  desire  that  that  should  be  true.  If  it  be  asked 
me,  how  authors  who  have  such  a  bias  and  lean  to  it  may  be 
discovered  ?  I  answer,  by  observing  how  in  their  writings  or 
arguings  they  are  often  led  by  their  inclinations  to  change  the 
ideas  of  the  question,  either  by  changing  the  terms,  or  by  adding 
and  joining  others  to  them,  whereby  the  ideas  under  considera- 
tion are  so  varied  as  to  be  more  serviceable  to  their  purpose, 
and  to  be  thereby  brought  to  an  easier  and  nearer  agreement, 
or  more  visible  and  remoter  disagreement  one  with  another. 
This  is  plain  and  direct  sophistry  ;  but  I  am  far  from  thinking 
that  wherever  it  is  found  it  is  made  use  of  with  design  to 
deceive  and  mislead  the  readers.  It  is  visible  that  men's  preju- 
dices and  inclinations  by  this  way  impose  often  upon  them- 
selves ;  and  their  affection  for  truth,  under  their  prepossession 
in  favour  of  one  side,  is  the  very  thing  that  leads  them  from  it. 
Inclination  suggests  and  slides  into  their  discourse  favourable 
terms,  which  introduce  favourable  ideas  ;  till  at  last,  by  this 
means,  that  is  concluded  clear  and  evident,  thus  dressed  up, 
which,  taken  in  its  native  state,  by  making  use  of  none  but  the 
precise  determined  ideas,  would  find  no  admittance  at  all.  The 
putting  these  glosses  on  what  they  affirm  ;  these,  as  they  are 
thought,  handsome,  easy,  and  graceful  explications  of  what 
they  are  discoursing  on,  is  so  much  the  character  of  what  is 
called  and  esteemed  writing  well,  that  it  is  very  hard  to  think 
that  authors  will  ever  be  persuaded  to  leave  what  serves  so  well 
to  propagate  their  opinions,  and  procure  themselves  credit  in 
the  world,  for  a  more  jejune  and  dry  way  of  writing,  by 
keeping  to  the  same  terms  precisely  annexed  to  the  same  ideas ; 
a  sour  and  blunt  stiffness,  tolerable  in  mathematicians  only,  who 
force  their  way,  and  make  truth  prevail  by  irresistible  demon- 
stration. 

But  yet  if  authors  cannot  be  prevailed  with  to  quit  the  looser, 
though  more  insinuating  ways  of  writing  ;  if  they  will  not  think 
fit  to  keep  close  to  truth  and  instruction  by  unvaried  terms,  and 
plain  unsophisticated  arguments  ;  yet  it  concerns  readers  not 
to  be  imposed  on  by  fallacies,  and  the  prevailing  ways  of  insinua- 


cjjNjulct  ui  int.  [;ndees.tandij\g  JU9 

.'ion.  To  do  this,  the  surest  and  most  effectual  remedy  is  to  fix 
in  the  mind  the  clear  and  distinct  ideas  of  the  question  stripped 
of  words  ;  and  so  likewise  in  the  train  of  argumentation,  to  take 
up  the  author's  ideas,  neglecting  his  words,  observing  how  they 
connect  or  separate  those  in  the  question.  He  that  does  this 
will  be  able  to  cast  oil*  all  that  is  superfluous  ;  he  will  see  what. 
is  pertinent,  what  coherent,  what  is  direct  to,  what  slides  by 
the  question.  This  will  readily  show  him  all  the  foreign  idea's 
in  the  discourse,  and  where  they  were  brought  in ;  and  though 
they  perhaps  dazzled  the  writer,  yet  he  will  perceive  that  they 
u,ive  no  light  nor  strength  to  his  reasonings. 

This  though  it  be  the  shortest  and  easiest  way  of  reading 
books  with  profit,  and  keeping  cne"s  self  from  being  misled  fry 
great  names  or  plausible  discourses  ;  yet  it  being  hard  and 
tedious  to  those  who  have  not  accustomed  themselves  to  it,  it  is 
not  to  be  expected  that  every  one  (among  those  few  who  really 
pursue  truth)  should  this  way  guard  his  understanding  from 
being  imposed  on  by  the  wilful,  or  at  least  undesigned  sophistry, 
which  creeps  into  most  of  the  books  of  argument.  They,  that 
write  against  their  conviction,  or  that,  next  to  them,  are  resolved 
to  maintain  the  tenets  of  a  party  they  are  engaged  in,  cannot 
be  supposed  to  reject  any  arms  that  may  help  to  defend  then: 
cause,  and  therefore  such  should  be  read  with  the  greatest  cau- 
tion. And  they  who  write  for  opinions  they  are  sincerely  per- 
suaded of,  and  believe  to  be  true,  think  they  may  so  far  allow 
themselves  to  indulge  their  laudable  affection  to  truth,  as  to 
permit  their  esteem  of  it  to  give  it  the  best  colours,  and  set  ii 
off'with  the  best  expressions  and  flress  they  can,  thereby  to  gain 
it  the  easiest  entrance  into  the  minds  of  their  readers,  and  iix  ii 
deepest  there. 

One  of  those  being  the  state  of  mind  we  may  justly  Suppose 
most  writers' to  be  in,  it  is  lit  their  readers,  who  apply  to  them 
for  instruction,  should  not  layby  that  caution  which  becomes  a 
sincere  pursuit  of  truth,  and  should  make  them  always  watchful 
against  whatever  might  conceal  or  misrepresent  it.  If  they 
have  not  the  skill  of  representing  to  themselves  the  author's 
sense  by  pure  ideas  separated  from  sounds,  and  thereby  divested 
of  the  false  lights  and  deceitful  ornaments  of  speech  ;  this  yet 
they  should  do,  they  should  keep  the  precise  question  steadily 
in  their  minds,  carry  it  along  with  them  through  the  whole  dis- 
course, and  sutler  not  the  least  alteration  in  the  terms,  either  by 
addition,  subtraction,  or  substituting  any  other.  This  every  . 
one  can  do  who  has  a  mind  to  it ;  and  he  that  has  not  a  mind 
to  it,  it  is  plain,  makes  his  understanding  only  the  warehouse  of 
other  men's  lumber;  1  mean  false  and  u.neoneluding reasonings, 
rather  than  a  repository  of  truth  for  his  own  use  ;  which  will 
prove  substantial,  and  stand  him  in  stead,  when  he  has  occa- 
sion for  it.  And  wlr'tber  such  an  one  deals  fairly  by  his  i 
Vqi    11  40 


310  CONDUCT   OF  THJi   LNOERs  1  ANDIKC. 

mind,  and  conducts  his  own  understanding  right,  I  leave  to  his 
own  understanding  to  judge. 

§  43.    FUNDAMENTAL  VERITIES. 

The  mind  of  man  being  very  narrow,  and  so  slow  in  making 
acquaintance  with  things,  and  taking  in  new  truths,  that  no  one 
man  is  capable,  in  a  much  longer  life  than  ours,  to  know  all 
truths  ;  it  becomes  our  prudence,  in  our  search  after  knowledge, 
to  employ  our  thoughts  about  fundamental  and  material  ques- 
tions, carefully  avoiding  those  that  are  trifling,  and  not  suffering 
ourselves  to  be  diverted  from  our  main  even  purpose,  by  those 
that  are  merely  incidental.     How  much  of  many  young  men's 
time  is  thrown  away  in  purely  logical  inquiries,  I  need  not  men- 
tion.    This  is  no  better  than  if  a  man,  who  was  to  be  a  painter, 
should  spend  all  his  time  in  examining  the  threads  of  the  seve- 
ral cloths  he  is  to  paint  upon,  and  counting  the  hairs  of  each 
pencil  and  brush  he  intends  to  use  in  the  laying  on  of  his  co- 
lours.    Nay,  it  is  much  worse  than  for  a  young  painter  to 
spend  his  apprenticeship  in  such  useless  niceties  ;  for  he,  at  the 
end  of  all  his  pains  to  no  purpose,  finds  that  it  is  not  painting, 
nor  any  help  to  it,  and  so  is  really  to  no  purpose  :  whereas  men 
designed  for  scholars  have  often  their  heads  so  filled  and  warmed 
with  disputes  on  logical  questions,  that  they  take  those  airy  use- 
less notions  for  real  and  substantial  knowledge,  and  think  their 
understandings  so  well  furnished  with  science,  that  they  need  not 
look  any  farther  into  the  nature  of  things,  or  descend  to  the  me- 
chanical drudgery  of  experiment  and  inquiry.    This  is  so  obvious 
a  mismanagement  of  the  understanding,  and  that  in  the  professed 
way  to  knowledge,  that  it  could  not  be  passed  by ;  to  which 
might  be  joined  abundance  of  questions,  and  the  way  of  hand- 
ling of  them  in  the  schools.     What  faults   in  particular  of  this 
kind  every  man  is,  or  may  be  guilty  of,  would  be  infinite  to  enu- 
merate ;  it  suffices  to  have  shown  that  superficial  and  slight  dis- 
coveries  and  observations  that  contain  nothing  of  moment  in 
themselves,  nor  serve  as  clues  to  lead  us  into  farther  knowledge, 
should  not  be  thought  worth  our  searching  after. 

There  are  fundamental  truths  that  lie  at  the  bottom,  the  basis 
upon  which  a  great  many  others  rest,  and  in  which  they  have 
their  consistency.  These  are  teeming  truths,  rich  in  store,  with 
which  they  furnish  the  mind,  and,  like  the  lights  of  heaven,  are 
not  only  beautiful  and  entertaining  in  themselves,  but  give  light 
•  and  evidence  to  other  things,  that  without  them  could  not  be  seen 
or  known.  Such  is  that  admirable  discovery  of  Mr.  Newton, 
that  all  bodies  gravitate  to  one  another,  which  may  be  counted 
as  the  basis  of  natural  philosophy  ;  which  of  what  use  it  is  to 
the  understanding  of  the  great  frame  of  our  solar  system,  he 
has  to  the  astonishment  of  the  learned  world  shown  ;  and  how* 
much  farther  it  would  guide  us  in  other  things  if  rightly  pursued, 
is  not  vet  known.     Our  Saviour's  irreat  rule.,  that  "we  shonM 


CCfSDTJCt  OF  THE  Uig>BRSTA»DIWfi  311 

love  our  neighbour  as  ourselves,"  is  such  a  fundamental  truth  lor 
the  regulating  human  society,  that,  I  think,  by  that  alone,  one 
might  without  difficulty  determine  all  the  cases  and  doubts  in 
social  morality.  These  and  such  as  these  are  the  truths  we 
should  endeavour  to  find  out,  and  store  our  minds  with.  Which 
leads  me  to  another  thing  in  the  conduct  of  the  understanding 
that  is  no  less  necessary,  viz. 

§  44.    BOTTOMING,. 

To  accustom  ourselves,  in  any  question  proposed,  to  examine 
and  find  out  upon  what  it  bottoms.  Most  of  the  difficulties  that 
come  in  our  way,  when  well  considered  and  traced,  lead  us  to 
some  proposition,  which,  known  to  be  true,  clears  the  doubt, 
and  gives  an  easy  solution  of  the  question  ;  whilst  topical  and 
superficial  arguments,  of  which  there  is  store  to  be  found  on 
both  sides,  filling  the  head  with  variety  of  thoughts,  and  the 
mouth  with  copious  discourse,  serve  only  to  amuse  the  under- 
standing, and  entertain  company,  without  coming  to  the  bottom 
of  the  question,  the  only  place  of  rest  and  stability  for  an 
inquisitive  mind,  whose  tendency  is  only  to  truth  and  know- 
ledge. 

For  example,  if  it  be  demanded,  whether  the  Grand  Seignior 
can  lawfully  take  what  he  will  from  any  of  his  people  ?  This 
question  cannot  be  resolved  without  coming  to  a  certainty, 
whether  all  men  are  naturally  equal ;  for  upon  that  it  turns  ; 
and  that  truth  well  settled  in  the  understanding,  and  carried  in 
the  mind  through  the  various  debates  concerning  the  various 
rights  of  men  in  society,  will  go  a  great  way  in  putting  an  eim 
to  them,  and  showing  on  which  side  the  truth  is. 

§    15.    TRANSFERRING   OF  THOUGHTS. 

There  is  scarce  any  thing  more  for  the  improvement  of  know- 
ledge, for  the  ease  of  life,  and  the  despatch  of  business,  than 
for  a  man  to  be  able  to  dispose  of  his  own  thoughts  ;  and  there 
is  scarce  any  thing  harder  in  the  whole  conduct  of  the  under- 
standing than  to  get  a  full  mastery  over  it.  The  mind,  in  a 
waking  man,  has  always  some  object  that  it  applies  itseU'to  ; 
which,  when  we  are  lazy  or  unconcerned,  we  can  easily  change  . 
and  at  pleasure  transfer  our  thoughts  to  another,  ami  from 
thence  to  a  third,  which  has  no  relation  to  either  of  the  former. 
Hence  men  forvvardly  conclude,  and  frequently  say,  nothing  is 
so  free  as  thought,  and  it  were  well  it  were  so  ,•  but  the  contrary 
will  be  found  true  in  several  instances  ;  and  there  are  many 
cases  wherein  there  is  nothing  more  rcscy  and  ungovernable 
than  our  thoughts :  they  will  not  be  directed  what  objects  to 
pursue,  nor  be  taken  off  from  those  they  have  once  fixed  on  ; 
"but  run  away  with  a  man  in  pursuit  of  those  ideas  they  have  in 
view,  let  him  do  what  he  can. 

I  will  not  here  mention  again  what  I  have  above  taken  notic< 


312  CONDUCT  OF  THE   L'NDERSTANDIJM.. 

of,  how  hard  it  is  to  get  the  mind,  narrowed  by  a  custom  of 
thirty  or  forty  years'  standing  to  a  scanty  collection  of  obvious 
and  common  ideas,  to  enlarge  itself  to  a  more  copious  stock,  and 
grow  into  an  acquaintance  with  those  that  would  afford  more 
abundant  matter  of  useful  contemplation  ;  it  is  not  of  this  I  am 
here  speaking.  The  inconveniency  I  would  here  represent,  and 
find  a  remedy  for,  is  the  difficulty  there  is  sometimes  to  transfer 
our  minds  from  one  subject  to  another  in  cases  where  the  ideas 
are  equally  familiar  to  us. 

Matters,  that  are  recommended  to  our  thoughts  by  any  of  our 
passions,  take  possession  of  our  minds  with  a  kind  of  authority, 
and  will  not  be  kept  out  or  dislodged  ;  but,  as  if  the  passion  that 
rules  were,  for  the  time,  the  sheriff  of  the  place,  and  came  with 
all  the  posse,  the  understanding  is  seized  and  taken  with  the 
object  it  introduces,  as  if  it  had  a  legal  right  to  be  alone  consi- 
dered there.     There  is  scarce  any  body,  I  think,  of  so  calm  a 
iemper  who  hath  not  some  time  found  this  tyranny  on  his  un- 
derstanding, and  suffered  under  the  inconvenience  of  it.     Who 
is  there   almost,  whose   mind,  at  some  time   or  other,   love  or 
anger,  fear  or  grief,  has  not  so  fastened  to  some  clog,  that  it  could 
not  turn  itself  to  an}7  other  object  ?    I  call  it  a  clog,  for  it  hangs 
upon  the  mind   so  as  to  hinder  its  vigour  and  activity  in  the 
pursuit  of  other  contemplations;  and  advances  itself  little  or  not. 
at  all  in  the  knowledge  of  the  thing  which  it  so  closely  hugs 
and  constantly  pores  on.     Men  thus  possessed  are  sometimes 
as  if  they  were  so  in  the  worst  sense,  and  lay  under  the  power 
of  an  enchantment.     They  see  not   what  passes  before  their 
eyes ;  hear  not  the  audible  discourse   of  the  company ;  and 
when  by  any  strong  application  to  them  they  are  roused  a  little, 
they  are  like  men  brought  to  themselves   from  some  remote  re- 
gion ;  whereas  in  truth  they  come  no  farther  than  their  secret 
cabinet  within,  where  they  have  been  wholly  taken  up  with  the 
puppet,  which  is  for  that  time  appointed  for  their  entertainment. 
The  shame  that  such  (tumps  cause  to  well-bred  people,  when  it 
carries  them  away  from  the  company,  where  they  should  bear  a 
part  in  the  conversation,  is  a  sufficient  argument  that  it  is  a  fault. 
in  the.  conduct  of  our  understanding,  not  to   have  that  power 
over  it  as  to  make  use  of  it  to  those  purposes,  and  on  those  oc- 
casions, wherein  we  have  need  of  its  assistance.     The  mind 
should  be  always  free   and  ready  to  turn  itself  to  the  variety  of 
objects  that  occur,  and  allow  them  as  much  consideration  as  shall 
for  that  time  be  thought  fit.     To  be  engrossed  so  by  one  object 
as  not  to  be  prevailed  on  to  leave  it  for  another  that  we  judge 
fitter  for  our  contemplation,  is  to  make  it  of  no  use  to  us.     Did 
*his  state  of  mind  remain  always  so,  every  one  would,  without 
Scruple,  give  it  the  name  of  perfect  madness  ;  and  whilst  it  does 
fast,  at  whatever  intervals  it  returns,  such  a  rotation  of  thoughts 
rfhout  the  <snme  object  no  more  carries  us  forward  towards  tfar 


CONDUCT  OP  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  313 

Attainment  of  knowledge,  than  getting-  upon  a  mill  horse  whilst 
lie  jogs  on  in  his  circular  track  would  carry  a  man  a  journey. 

1  grant  something  must  he  allowed  to  legitimate  passions,  and 
to  natural  inclinations.  Every  man,  besides  occasional  affec- 
tions, has  beloved  studies,  and  those  the  mind  will  more  closely 
stick  to ;  but  yet  it  is  best  that  it  should  be  always  at  liberty,  and 
under  the  free  disposal  of  the  man,  and  to  act  how  and  upon 
what  he  directs.  This  we  should  endeavour  to  obtain,  unless 
we  would  be  content  with  such  a  flaw  in  our  understanding, 
that  sometimes  we  should  be  as  it  were  without  it ;  for  it  is. 
very  little  better  than  so  in  cases  where  we  cannot  make  use  oi 
it  to  those  purposes  we  would,  and  which  stand  in  present 
need  of  it. 

But  before  fit  remedies  can  be  thought  on  for  this  disease,  we 
must  know  the  several  causes  of  it,  and  thereby  regulate  the 
Cure,  if  we  will  hope  to  labour  with  success. 

One  we  have  already  instanced  in,  whereof  all  men  that  re- 
flect have  so  general  a  knowledge,  and  so  often  an  experience  in. 
themselves,  that  nobody  doubts  of  it.  A  prevailing  passion  so 
pins  down  our  thoughts  to  the  object  and  concern  of  it,  that  a 
man  passionately  in  love  cannot  bring  himself  to  think  of  his 
ordinary  affairs,  or  a  kind  mother  drooping  under  the  loss  of  a 
child,  is  not  able  to  bear  a  part  as  she  was  wont  in  the  discourse 
of  the  company,  or  conversation  of  her  friends. 

But  though  passion  be  the  most  obvious  and  general,  yet  it  is 
not  the  only  cause  that  binds  up  the  understanding,  and  con- 
fines it  for  the  time  to  one  object,  from  which  it  will  not  be 
taken  off. 

Besides  this,  we  may  often  find  that  the  understanding,  when 
it  has  awhile  employed  itself  upon  a  subject  which  either  chance, 
or  some  slight  accident,  offered  to  it,  without  the  interest  or  re- 
commendation of  any  passion,  works  itself  into  a  warmth,  and 
by  degrees  gets  into  a  career,  wherein,  like  a  bowl  down  a  hill,, 
it  increases  its  motion  by  going,  and  will  not  be  stopped  or  divert- 
ed ;  though,  when  the  heat  is  over,  it  sees  all  this  earnest  ap- 
plication was  about  a  trifle  not  worth  a  thought,  and  all  thepains 
employed  about  it  lost  labour. 

There  is  a  third  sort,  if  I  mistake  not,  yet  lower  than  this ; 
it  is  a  sort  of  childishness,  if  I  may  so  say,  of  the  understanding, 
wherein,  during  the  fit,  it  plays  with  and  dandles  some  insignifi- 
cant-puppet to  no  end,  nor  with  any  design  at  all,  and  yet  cannot 
easily  be  got  off  from  it.  Thus  some  trivial  sentence,  or  a  scrap 
of  poetry,  will  sometimes  get  into  men's  heads,  and  make  such 
a  chiming  there,  that  there  is  no  stilling  of  it ;  no  peace  to  bo 
obtained,  nor  attention  to  any  thing  else,  but  this  impertinent, 
guest  will  take  up  the  mind  and  possess  the  thoughts  in  spite  of 
ail  endeavours  to  get  rid  of  it.  Whether  every  otic  hath  expe- 
rimented in  themselves  this  troublesome  intrusion  of  some 
frisking  ir!en.s  which  thus  importune  the  understanding,  andhinrh'i 


314         CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING-, 

it  from  being  better  employed,  I  know  not.  But  persons  of  verj 
good  parts,  and  those  more  than  one,  I  have  heard  speak  and 
complain  of  it  themselves.  The  reason  I  have  to  make  this 
doubt,  is  from  what  I  have  known  in  a  case  something  of  kin  to 
this,  though  much  odder,  and  that  is  of  a  sort  of  visions  that 
some  people  have  lying  quiet,  but  perfectly  awake,  in  the  dark, 
or  with  their  eyes  shut.  It  is  a  great  variety  of  faces,  most 
commonly  very  odd  ones,  that  appear  to  them  in  a  train  one 
after  another;  so  that  having  had  just  the  sight  of  the  one,  it  im- 
mediately passes  away  to  give  place  to  another,  that  the  same 
instant  succeeds,  and  has  as  quick  an  exit  as  its  leader  ;  and  so 
they  march  on  in  a  constant  succession  ;  nor  can  any  one  of 
them  by  any  endeavour  be  stopped  or  retained  beyond  the  instant. 
of  its  appearance,  but  is  thrust  out  by  its  follower,  which  will 
have  its  turn.  Concerning  this  fantastical  phenomenon  I  have; 
talked  with  several  people,  whereof  some  have  been  perfectly 
acquainted  with  it,  and  others  have  been  so  wholly  strangers 
to  it,  that  they  could  hardly  be  brought  to  conceive  or  believe 
it.  I  knew  a  lady  of  excellent  parts,  who  had  got  past  thirty 
without  having  ever  had  the  least  notice  of  any  such  thing ; 
she  was  so  great  a  stranger  to  it,  that  when  she  heard  me  and 
another  talking  of  it,  could  scarce  forbear  thinking  we  bantered 
her ;  but  some  time  after  drinking  a  large  dose  of  dilute  tea, 
(as  she  wTas  ordered  by  a  physician)  going  to  bed,  she  told  us 
at  next  meeting,  that  she  had  now  experimented  what  our  dis- 
course had  much  ado  to  persuade  her  of.  She  had  seen  a  great 
variety  of  faces  in  a  long  train,  succeeding  one  another,  as  we 
had  described ;  they  were  all  strangers  and  intruders,  such  as 
she  had  no  acquaintance  with  before,  nor  sought  after  then  : 
and  as  they  came  of  themselves  they  w  ent  too  ;  none  of  them 
stayed  a  moment,  nor  could  be  detained  by  all  the  endeavours 
she  could  use,  but  went  on  in  their  solemn  procession,  just  ap- 
peared and  then  vanished.  This  odd  phenomenon  seems  to 
have  a  mechanical  cause,  and  to  depend  upon  the  matter  and 
motion  of  the  blood  or  animal  spirits. 

When  the  fancy  is  bound  by  passion,  I  know  no  way  to  set 
the  mind  free,  and  at  liberty  to  prosecute  what  thoughts  the  man 
would  make  choice  of,  but  to  allay  the  present  passion,  or  coun- 
terbalance it  with  another ;  which  is  an  art  to  be  got  by  study, 
and  acquaintance  with  the  passions. 

Those  who  find  themselves  apt  to  be  carried  away  with  the 
spontaneous  current  of  their  own  thoughts,  not  excited  by  any 
passion  or  interest,  must  be  very  wary  and  careful  in  all  the 
instances  of  it  to  stop  it,  and  never  humour  their  minds  in  being 
thus  triflingly  busy.  Men  know  the  value  of  their  corporeal 
liberty,  and  therefore  sutler  not  willingly  fetters  and  chains  to 
be  put  upon  them.  To  have  the  mind  captivated  is,  for  the 
time,  certainly  the  greater  evil  of  the  two,  and  deserves  ouv 
utmost  care   and  endeavours  to  preserve  the   freedom  of  our 


CONDUCT  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING.  31  5 

better  part.  In  this  case  our  pains  will  not  be  lost ;  striving 
and  struggling  will  prevail,  it'  we  constantly,  on  all  such-  occa- 
sions, make  use  of  it.  We  must  never  indulge  these  trivial  atten- 
tions of  thought ;  as  soon  as  we  find  the  mind  makes  itself  a  busi- 
ness of  nothing,  we  should  immediately  disturb  and  check  it,  intro- 
duce new  and  more  serious  considerations,  and  not  leave  till  we 
have  beaten  it  off  from  the  pursuit  it  was  upon.  This,  at  first, 
if  we  have  let  the  contrary  practice  grow  to  a  habit,  will  perhaps 
be  difficult  ;  but  constant  endeavours  will  by  degrees  prevail, 
and  at  last  make  it  easy.  And  when  a  man  is  pretty  well  advan- 
ced, and  can  command  his  mind  off  at  pleasure  from  incidental 
and  undesigned  pursuits,  it  may  not  be  amiss  for  him  to  go  on 
farther,  and  make  attempts  upon  meditations  of  greater  moment, 
that  at  the  last  he  may  have  a  full  power  over  his  own  mind,  and 
be  so  fully  master  of  his  own  thoughts,  as  to  be  able  to  transfer 
them  from  one  subject  to  another,  with  the  same  ease  that  he 
can  lay  by  any  thing  he  has  in  his  hand,  and  take  something  else 
that  he  has  a  mind  to  in  the  room  of  it.  This  liberty  of  mind  is 
of  great  use  both  in  business  and  study,  and  he  that  has  got  it 
will  have  no  small  advantage  of  ease  and  despatch  in  all  that  is 
the  chosen  and  useful  employment  of  his  understanding. 

The  third  and  last  way  which  I  mentioned  the  mind  to  be 
sometimes  taken  up  with,  I  mean  the  chiming  of  some  particular 
words  or  sentence  in  the  memory,  and,  as  it  were,  making  a  noise 
in  the  head,  and  the  like,  seldom  happens  but  when  the  mind  is 
lazy,  or  very  loosely  and  negligently  employed.  It  were  better 
indeed  to  be  without  such  impertinent  and  useless  repetitions  : 
any  obvious  idea,  when  it  is  roving  carelessly  at  a  venture,  being" 
of  more  use,  and  apter  to  suggest  something  worth  considera- 
tion, than  the  insignificant  buzz  of  purely  empty  sounds.  But 
since  the  rousing  of  the  mind,  and  setting  the  understanding  on 
work  with  some  degrees  of  vigour,  does  for  the  most  part  pre- 
sently set  it  free  from  these  idle  companions  ;  it  may  not  be 
amiss,  whenever  we  find  ourselves  troubled  with  them,  to  make 
use  of  so  profitable  a  remedy  that  is  always  at  hand. 


SOME  THOUGHTS 

CONCERNING. 

HEADING  AND  STUDY 

FOR  A 

GENTLEMAN 


Reading  is  for  the  improvement  of  the  understanding. 

The  improvement  of  the  understanding  is  for  two  ends ;  first, 
for  our  own  increase  of  knowledge  ;  secondly,  to  enable  us  to 
deliver  and  make  out  that  knowledge  to  others. 

The  latter  of  these,  if  it  be  not  the  chief  end  of  study  in  a 
gentleman  ;  yet  it  is  at  least  equal  to  the  other,  since  the 
greatest  part  of  his  business  and  usefulness  in  the  world  is  by 
the  influence  of  what  he  says  or  writes  to  others. 

The  extent  of  our  knowledge  cannot  exceed  the  extent  of 
our  ideas.  Therefore,  he  who  would  be  universally  knowing, 
must  acquaint  himself  with  the  objects  of  all  sciences.  But  this 
is  not  necessary  to  a  gentleman,  whose  proper  calling  is  the 
service  of  his  Country ;  and  so  is  most  properly  concerned  in 
moral  and  political  knowledge  ;  and  thus  the  studies,  which 
more  immediately  belong  to  his  calling  are  those  which  treat  of 
virtues  and  vices  of  civil  society,  and  the  arts  of  government ; 
and  will  take  in  also  law  and  history. 

It  is  enough  for  a  gentleman  to  be  furnished  with  the  ideas 
belonging  to  his  calling,  which  he  will  find  in  the  books  that 
treat  of  the  matters  above  mentioned. 

But  the  next  step  towards  the  improvement  of  his  under- 
standing must  be,  to  observe  the  connexion  of  these  ideas  in  the 
propositions  which  those  books  hold  forth,  and  pretend  to  teach 
as  truths  ;  which  till  a  man  can  judge  whether  they  be  truths 
or  no,  his  understanding  is  but  little  improved  ;  and  he  doth  but 
think  and  talk  after  the  books  that  he  hath  read,  without  having 
any  knowledge  thereby.  And  thus  men  of  much  reading  are 
greatly  learned,  but  may  be  little  knowing. 

The  third  and  last  step,  therefore,  in  improving  the  under- 
standing, is  to  find  out  upon  what  foundation  any  proposition 
advanced  bottoms ;  and  to  observe  the  connexion  of  the  inter- 
mediate ideas,  by  which  it  is  joined  to  that  foundation  upon 
which  it  is  erected,  or  that  principle  from  which  it  is  derived. 
This,  in  short,  is  right  reasoning  ;  and  by  this  way  alone  true 
knowledge  is  to  be  got  bv  reading  and  studying; 

Vol.  II.  11 


318  SOME  THOUGHTS  CONCERNING 

When  a  man,  by  use,  liatli  got  this  faculty  of  observing  and 
judging  of  the  reasoning  and  coherence  of  what  he  reads,  and 
how  it  proves  what  it  pretends  to  teach  ;  he  is  then,  and  not  till 
then,  in  the  right  way  of  improving  his  understanding,  and 
enlarging  his  knowledge  by  reading. 

But  that,  as  I  have  said,  being  not  all  that  a  gentleman  should 
aim  at  in  reading,  he  should  farther  take  care  to  improve  him- 
self in  the  art  also  of  speaking,  that  so  he  may  be  able  to  make 
the  best  use  of  what  he  knows. 

The  art  of  speaking  well  consists  chiefly  in  two  things,  viz. 
perspicuity  and  right  reasoning. 

Perspicuity  consists  in  the  using  of  proper  terms  for  the  ideas 
or  thoughts  which  he  would  have  pass  from  his  own  mind  into 
that  of  another  man.  It  is  this  that  gives  them  an  easy 
entrance  ;  and  it  is  with  delight  that  men  hearken  to  those 
whom  they  easily  understand  ;  whereas  what  is  obscurely  said, 
dying  as  it  is  spoken,  is  usually  not  only  lost,  but  creates  a  pre- 
judice in  the  hearer,  as  if  he  that  spoke  knew  not  what  he  said, 
or  was  afraid  to  have  it  understood. 

The  way  to  obtain  this,  is  to  read  such  books  as  are  allowed 
to  be  writ  with  the  greatest  clearness  and  propriety,  in  the  lan- 
guage that  a  man  uses.  An  author  excellent  in  this  faculty,  as 
well  as  several  others,  is  Dr.  Tillotson,  late  archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury, in  all  that  is  published  of  his.  I  have  chosen  rather  to 
propose  this  pattern  for  the  attainment  of  the  art  of  speaking 
clearly,  than  those  who  give  rules  about  it ;  since  we  are  more 
apt  to  learn  by  example  than  by  direction.  But  if  any  one  hath 
a  mind  to  consult  the  masters  in  the  art  of  speaking  and  writing, 
he  may  mid  in  Tully  de  Oratore,  and  another  treatise  of  his 
called,  Orator ;  and  in  Quintilian's  Institutions,  and  Boileau's 
Traite  du  Sublime,*  instructions  concerning  this  and  the  other 
parts  of  speaking  well. 

Besides  perspicuity,  there  must  be  also  right  reasoning ; 
without  which,  perspicuity  serves  but  to  expose  the  speaker. 
And  for  the  attaining  of  this,  I  should  propose  the  constant 
reading  of  Chillingworth,  who,  by  his  example,  will  teach  both 
perspicuity,  and  the  way  of  right  reasoning,  better  than  any 
nook  that  I  know  ;  and  therefore  will  deserve  to  be  read  upon 
that  account  over  and  over  again  ;  not  to  say  any  thing  of  his 
argument. 

Besides  these  books  in  English,  Tully,  Terence,  Virgil,  Livy, 
and  Caesar's  Commentaries,  maybe  read  to  form  one's  mind  to 
a  relish  of  a  right  way  of  speaking  and  writing. 

The  books  1  have  hitherto  mentioned  have  been  in  order  only 
to  writing  and  speaking  well ;  not  but  that  they  will  deserve  to 
be  read  upon  other  accounts. 

The  study  of  morality  I  have  above  mentioned  as  that  that 

T?>;.*  trfMMcp  i*  r  trapslation  from  Longina*-.. 


re;awng  and  study,  et«  .  \)[{i. 

becomes  a  gentleman  ;  not  barely  as  a  man,  but  in  order  to  his 
business  as  a  gentleman.  Of  this  there  are  books  enough  writ 
both  by  ancient  and  modern  philosophers.;  but  the  morality  ol 
the  gospel  doth  so  exceed  them  all,  that,  to  give  a  man  a  fuh 
knowledge  of  true  morality,  I  shall  send  him  to  no  other  book 
but  the  New  Testament.  But  if  he  hath  a  mind  to  see  how  far 
the  heathen  world  carried  that  science,  and  whereon  they  bot- 
tomed their  ethics,  he  will  be  delightfully  and  profitably  enter- 
tained in  Tully's  Treatises  De  Officiis. 

Politics  contains  two  parts,  very  different  the  one  from  tin- 
other.  The  one,  containing  the  original  of  societies,  and  the 
rise  and  extent  of  political  power  ;  the  other,  the  art  of  govern- 
ing men  in  society. 

The  first  of  these  hath  been  so  bandied  among  us  for  these 
sixty  years  backward,  that  one  can  hardly  miss 'books  of  this 
kind.  Those  which  I  think  are  most  talked  of  in  English,  are 
Ihe  first  book  of  Mr.  Hooker's  Ecclesiastical  Polity,  and  Mr. 
Algernon  Sydney's  Discourses  concerning  Government.  The. 
latter  of  these  I  never  read.  Let  me  here  add,  Two  Treatises 
of  Government,  printed  in  1690;*  and  a  Treatise  of  Civil 
Polity,  printed  this  year.f  To  these  one  may  add,  Puffendorf 
De  Officio  Hominis  et  Civis,  and  De  Jure  Naturali  et  Gentium  ; 
which  last  is  the  best  book  of  that  kind. 

As  to  the  other  part  of  politics,  which  concerns  the  art  of 
government ;  that,  I  think,  is  best  to  be  learned  by  experience 
and  history,  especially  that  of  a  man's  own  country.  And 
therefore  I  think  an  English  gentleman  should  be  well  versed  in 
the  history  of  England,  taking  his  rise  as  far  back  as  there  are 
any  records  of  it ;  joining  with  it  the  laws  that  were  made  in 
the  several  ages,  as  he  goes  along  in  his  history,  that  he  may 
observe  from  thence  the  several  turns  of  state,  and  how  they 
have  been  produced.  In  Mr.  Tyrrel's  History  of  England  he 
will  find  all  along  those  several  authors  which  have  treated  of 
our  affairs,  and  which  he  may  have  recourse  to,  concerning  any 
point  which  either  his  curiosity  or  judgment  shall  lead  him  to 
inquire  into. 

With  the  history,  he  may  also  do  well  to  read  the  ancient 
lawyers ;  such  as  Bracton,  Fleta,  Henningham,  Mirror  of  Jus- 
tice, my  Lord  Coke's  Second  Institutes,  and  the  Modus  tenendi 
Parliamentum  ;  and  others  of  that  kind  which  he  may  find  quo- 
ted in  the  late  controversies  between  Mr.  Petit,  Mr.  Tyrrel,  Mr. 
Atwood,  &c.  with  Dr.  Brady ;  as  also,  I  suppose,  in  Sedler*s 
Treatise  of  Rights  of  the  Kingdom,  and  Customs  of  our  An- 
cestors, whereof  the  first  edition  is  the  best ;  wherein  he  will 
find  the  ancient  constitution  of  the  government  of  England. 

There  are  two  volumes  of  State  Tracts  printed  since  the 

*  These  two  Treatises  are  written  by  Mr.  Locke  himself. 

•t  Civil  Polity.  A  Treatise  concerning;  the  nature  of  Government,  &c  London. 
1703,  in  8vo.    Written  by  Frier  I'axton,  M.P. 


>,',>()  SOME  THOUGHTS  COJNCERNlN« 

Revocation,  in  which  there  are  many  things  relating  to  the 
government  of  England.* 

As  for  general  history,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  and  Dr.  Howel  are 
hooks  to  be  had.  He,  who  hath  a  mind  to  launch  farther  into 
that  ocean,  may  consult  Whear's  Methodus  legendi  Historias,  of 
the  last  edition,  which  will  direct  him  to  the  authors  he  is  to 
read,  and  the  method  wherein  he  is  to  read  them. 

To  the  reading  of  history,  chronology  and  geography  are 
absolutely  necessary. 

In  geography,  we  have  two  general  ones  in  English,  Heylin 
and  Moll ;  which  is  the  best  of  them  I  know  not,  having  not 
been  much  conversant  in  either  of  them.  But  the  last  I  should 
think  to  be  of  most  use  ;  because  of  the  new  discoveries  that 
are  made  every  day,  tending  to  the  perfection  of  that  science. 
Though,  I  believe,  that  the  countries,  which  Heylin  mentions- 
are  better  treated  of  by  him,  bating  what  new  discoveries  since 
his  time  have  added. 

These  two  books  contain  geography  in  general ;  but  whether 
an  English  gentleman  would  think  it  worth  his  time  to  bestow 
much  pains  upon  that,  though  without  it  he  cannot  well  under- 
stand a  Gazette,  it  is  certain  he  cannot  well  be  without  Camden's 
Britannia,  which  is  much  enlarged  in  the  last  English  edition. 
A  good  collection  of  maps  is  also  necessary. 

To  geography,  books  of  travels  may  be  added.  In  that 
kind,  the  collections  made  by  our  countrymen,  Hackluyt  and 
Purchas,  are  very  good.  There  is  also  a  very  good  collection 
made  by  Thevenot  in  folio,  in  French ;  and  by  Ramuzio,  in 
Italian ;  whether  translated  into  English  or  no,  I  know  not. 
There  are  also  several  good  books  of  travels  of  Englishmen 
published,  as  Sandys,  Roe,  Brown,  Gage,  and  Dampier. 

There  are  also  several  voyages  in  French,  which  are  very- 
good,  as  Pyrard,f  Bergeron, |  Sagard,§  Bernier,||  &c.  :  whether 
all  of  them  are  translated  into  English,  I  know  not. 

There  is  at  present  a  very  good  Collection  of  Voyages  and 
Travels,  never  before  in  English,  and  such  as  are  out  of  print ; 
now  printing  by  Mr.  Churchill.  ^[ 

*  We  have  now  two  collections  of  State  Tracts;  one  in  two  volumes  in  folio, 
■printed  in  1689  and  1692,  contains  Several  Treatises  relating  to  the  Government 
from  the  Year  1660  to  1689  ;  and  the  other,  in  three  volumes  in  folio,  printed  in 
1703,  1706,  and  1707,  i?  a  Collection  of  Tracts,  published  on  Occasion  of  the  late 
Revolution  in  1688.  and  during  the  reign  of  King  William  III.  These  collections 
mi^ht  have  been  made  mure  complete  and  more  convenient;  especially  the  first, 
which  is  extremely  defective  and  incorrect. 

+  Voyage  de  Fi  am;  us  Pyrard  de  Laval.  Contenant  sa  Navigation  aux  Indes 
Orientates,  Maldives,  Moluques,  Bresil.     Paris,  1619,  8vo.  3d  edit. 

X  Relation  des  Voyages  en  Tartaric,  Sec.  Le  tout  recueilli  par  Pierre  Berge- 
ron.    Paris,  1634,8vo. 

5  Le  Grand  Voyage  des  Hurons,  situes  en  1  Amenque,  &c.  par  F.  Gab.  Sagard 
Theodat.     Paris,  1632,  8vo. 

||  Memoires  de  l'Empire  du  Grand  Mogol,  Sec.  par  Francois  Bernier.  Pans, 
1670  et  1671,3  vols,  in  12mo. 

11  That  collection  of  voyages  ami  travels  was  published  an.  1704,  in  4  vols',  in 
fol. 


HEADING  AND  STUDY,  ETC.  o"Z\ 

There  are  besides  these  a  vast  number  of  other  travels  ;  a 
sort  of  books  that  have  a  very  good  mixture  of  delight  and  use- 
fulness. To  set  them  down  all  would  take  up  too  much  time 
and  room.     Those  I  have  mentioned  are  enough  to  begin  with. 

As  to  chronology,  I  think  Helvicusthe  best  for  common  use  ; 
which  is  not  a  book  to  be  read,  but  to  lie  by,  and  be  consulted 
upon  occasion.  He  that  hath  a  mind  to  look  farther  into  chro- 
nology, may  get  Tallenfs  Tables,  and  Strauchius's  Breviarium 
Temporum,  and  may  to  those  add  Scaliger  De  Emendatione 
Temporum,  and  iVtavius,  if  he  hath  a  mind  to  engage  deeper  in 
that  study. 

Those,  who  arc  accounted  to  have  writ  best  particular  parts 
of  our  English  history,  are  Bacon,  of  Henry  VII  ;  and  Herbert 
<>!'  Henry  Fill.  Daniel  also  is  commended  ;  and  Burnet's  His- 
tory of  the  Reformation. 

Mariana's  History  of  Spain,  and  Thuanus's  History  of  his 
Own  Time,  and  Philip  de  Comines,  are  of  great  and  deserved 
reputation. 

There  are  also  several  French  and  English  memoirs  and  col- 
lections, such  as  La  Rochefoucault,  Melvil,  Rushworth,  &c. 
which' give  a  great  light  to  those  who  have  a  mind  to  look  into 
what  hath  passed  in  Europe  this  last  age. 

To  fit  a  gentleman  for  the  conduct  of  himself,  whether  as  a 
private  man,  or  as  interested  in  the  government  of  his  country, 
nothing  can  be  more  necessary  than  the  knowledge  of  men ; 
which,  though  it  be  to  be  had  chiefly  from  experience,  and,  next 
to  that,  from  a  judicious  reading  of  history  ;  yet  there  are  books 
that  of  purpose  treat  of  human  nature,  which  help  to  give  an 
insight  into  it.  Such  are  those  treating  of  the  passions,  and 
how  they  are  moved  ;  whereof  Aristotle  in  his  second  book  of 
Rhetoric  hath  admirably  discoursed,  and  that  in  a  little  compass. 
I  think  this  Rhetoric  is  translated  into  English  ;  if  not,  it  may 
be  had  in  Greek  and  Latin  together. 

La  Bruyere's  Characters  are  also  an  admirable  piece  of  paint- 
ing ;   I  think  it  is  also  translated  out  of  French  into  English. 

Satirical  writings  also,  such  as  Juvenal,  and  Persius,  and 
above  all,  Horace  ;  though  they  paint  the  deformities  of  men, 
yot  they  thereby  teach  us  to  know  them. 

There  is  another  use  of  reading,  which  is  for  diversion  and 
delight.  Such  are  poetical  writings,  especially  dramatic,  if  they 
be  free  from  profaneness,  obscenity,  and  what  corrupts  good 
manners  ;  for  such  pitch  should  not  be  handled. 

Of  all  the  books  of  fiction,  I  know  none  that  equals  Cervan- 
tes's  History  of  Don  Quixote  in  usefulness,  pleasantry,  and  a 
constant  decorum.  And  indeed  no  writings  can  be  pleasant, 
which  have  not  nature  at  the  bottom,  and  are  not  drawn  after 
her  copy. 

There  is  another  sort  of  books,  which  I  had  almost  forgot, 
with  which  a  gentleman's  study  OTtffht  to  hr  well  furnished,  viz 


?ii2  SOME  THOUGHTS  CONCERNING  READING,  ETC 

dictionaries  of  all  kinds.  For  the  Latin  tongue,  Littleton. 
Cooper,  Calepin,  and  Robert  Stephens's  Thesaurus  Linguae 
Latinae,  and  Vossii  Etymologicmn  Linguae  Latinae  ;  Skinner's 
Lexicon  Etymologicum  is  an  excellent  one  of  that  kind,  for  the 
English  tongue.  Cowel's  Interpreter  is  useful  for  the  law  terms. 
Spelman's  Glossary  is  a  very  useful  and  learned  book.  And 
Selden's  Titles  of  Honour,  a  gentleman  should  not  be  without. 
Baudrand  hath  a  very  good  Geographical  Dictionary.  And 
there  are  several  historical  ones,  which  are  of  use  ;  as  Lloyd's, 
Hoffman's,  Moreri's.  And  Bayle's  incomparable  dictionary  is 
something  of  the  same  kind.  He  that  hath  occasion  to  look 
into  books  written  in  Latin  since  the  decay  of  the  Roman 
empire,  and  the  purity  of  the  Latin  tongue,  cannot  be  well  with- 
out Du  Cange's  Glossarium  mediae  et  infimae  Latinitatis. 

Among  the  books  above  set  down,  I  mentioned  Vossius's 
Etymologicum  Linguae  Latinae  ;  all  his  works  are  lately  printed 
in  Holland  in  six  tomes.  They  are  fit  books  for  a  gentleman's 
library,  containing  very  learned  discourses  concerning  all  the 
sciences. 


ELEMENTS 

OF 

NATURAL   PHILOSOPHY 


CHAPTER  r 

OF  MATTER  AND  MOTION. 


Matter  is  an  extended  solid  substance  ;  which  being  com- 
prehended under  distinct  surfaces,  makes  so  many  particular 
distinct  bodies. 

Motion  is  so  well  known  by  the  sight  and  touch,  that  to  use 
words  to  give  a  clear  idea  of  it  would  be  in  vain. 

Matter,  or  body,  is  indifferent  to  motion,  or  rest. 

There  is  as  much  force  required  to  put  a  body,  which  is  in 
motion,  at  rest,  as  there  is  to  set  a  body,  which  is  at  rest  into 
motion. 

No  parcel  of  matter  can  give  itself  either  motion  or  rest,  and 
therefore  a  body  at  rest  will  remain  so  eternally,  except  some 
external  cause  puts  it  in  motion  ;  and  a  body  in  motion  will 
move  eternally,  unless  some  external  cause  stops  it. 

A  body  in  motion  will  always  move  on  in  a  straight  line,  unless 
it  be  turned  out  of  it  by  some  external  cause  ;  because  a  body 
can  no  more  alter  the  determination  of  its  motion,  than  it  can 
begin  it,  alter,  or  stop  its  motion  itself. 

The  swiftness  of  motion  is  measured  by  distance  of  place, 
and  length  of  time  wherein  it  is  performed.  For  instance,  if 
A  and  B,  bodies  of  equal  or  different  bigness,  move  each  of 
them  an  inch  in  the  same  time  ;  their  motions  are  equally  swift ; 
but  if  A  moves  two  inches,  in  the  time  whilst  B  is  moving  one 
inch,  the  motion  of  A  is  twice  as  swift  as  that  of  B. 

The  quantity  of  motion  is  measured  by  the  swiftness  of  the 
motion,  and  the  quantity  of  the  matter  moved,  taken  together. 
For  instance,  if  A,  a  body  equal  to  B,  moves  as  swift  as  B  ;  then 
it  hath  an  equal  quantity  of  motion.  If  A  hath  twice  as  much 
matter  as  B,  and  moves  equally  as  swift,  it  hath  double  the  quan- 
tity of  motion  ;  and  so  in  proportion. 

It  appears,  as  far  as  human  observation  reaches,  to  be  a  set- 
tled law  of  nature,  that  all  bodies  have  a  tendency,  attraction,  of 
gravitation,  toward  one  another 


:324  ELEMENTS  or  NATURAL  PHILOSOPH1'. 

The  same  force,  applied  to  two  different  bodies,  produces 
always  the  same  quantity  of  motion  in  each  of  them.  For 
instance,  let  a  boat,  which  with  its  lading  is  one  ton,  be  tied  at  p. 
distance  to  another  vessel,  which  with  its  lading  is  twenty-six 
tons  ;  if  the  rope  that  ties  them  together  be  pulled,. either  in  the 
less  or  bigger  of  these  vessels,  the  less  of  the  two,  in  their 
approach  one  to  another,  will  move  twenty-six  feet,  while  the 
other  moves  but  one  foot. 

Wherefore  the  quantity  of  matter  in  the  earth  being  twenty- 
six  times  more  than  in  the  moon  ;  the  motion  in  the  moon 
toward  the  earth,  by  the  common  force  of  attraction,  by  which 
they  are  impelled  toward  one  another,  will  be  twenty-six  times 
as  fast  as  in  the  earth  ;  that  is,  the  moon  will  move  twenty-six 
miles  toward  the  earth,  for  every  mile  the  earth  moves  toward 
the  moon. 

Hence  it  is,  that,  in  this  natural  tendency  of  bodies  toward 
one  another,  that  in  the  lesser  is  considered  as  gravitation,  and 
that  in  the  bigger  as  attraction  ;  because  the  motion  of  the  lesser 
body  (by  reason  of  its  much  greater  swiftness)  is  alone  taken 
notice  of. 

This  attraction  is  the  strongest,  the  nearer  the  attracting  bodies 
are  to  each  other  ;  and,  in  different  distances  of  the  same  bodies, 
is  reciprocally  in  the  duplicate  proportion  of  those  distances. 
For  instance,  if  two  bodies,  at  a  given  distance,  attract  each 
other  with  a  certain  force,  at  half  the  distance,  they  will  attract 
each  other  with  four  times  that  force  ;  at  one  third  of  the  dis- 
tance, with  nine  times  that  force  ;  and  so  on. 

Two  bodies  at  a  distance  will  put  one  another  into  motion  by 
the  force  of  attraction  ;  Avhich  is  inexplicable  by  us,  though 
made  evident  to  us  by  experience,  and  so  to  be  taken  as  a  prin- 
ciple in  natural  philosophy. 

Supposing  then  the  earth  the  sole  body  in  the  universe,  and  at 
rest ;  if  God  should  create  the  moon,  at  the  same  distance  that 
it  is  now  from  the  earth,  the  earth  and  the  moon  would  presently 
begin  to  move  one  toward  another  in  a  straight  line  by  this 
motion  of  attraction  or  gravitation. 

If  a  body,  that  by  the  attraction  of  another  would  move  in  a 
straight  line  toward  it,  receives  a  new  motion  any  ways  oblique 
to  the  first ;  it  will  no  longer  move  in  a  straight  line,  according 
to  either  of  those  directions,  but  in  a  curve  that  will  partake  of 
both.  And  this  curve  will  differ,  according  to  the  nature  and 
quantity  of  the  forces  that  concurred  to  produce  it ;  as,  for 
instance,  in  many  cases  it  will  be  such  a  curve  as  ends  where  it 
began,  or  recurs  into  itself ;  that  is,  makes  up  a  circle,  or  an 
ellipsis  or  oval  very  little  differing  from  a  circle. 


S25 

CHAPTER  II. 

OF  THE  UNIVERSE 

To  any  one,  who  looks  about  him  in  the  world,  there  are 
obvious  several  distinct  masses  of  matter,  separate  from  one 
another ;  some  whereof  have  discernible  motions.  These  are 
the  sun,  the  fixed  stars,  the  comets,  and  the  planets,  among- 
which  this  earth,  which  we  inhabit,  is  one.  All  these  are 
visible  to  our  naked  eyes. 

Besides  these,  telescopes  have  discovered  several  fixed  stars, 
invisible  to  the  naked  eye ;  and  several  other  bodies  moving 
about  some  of  the  planets ;  all  which  were  invisible  and 
unknown  before  the  use  of  perspective-glasses  was  found. 

The  vast  distances  between  these  great  bodies  are  called 
intermundane  spaces  ;  in  which  though  there  may  be  some  fluid 
matter,  yet  it  is  so  thin  and  subtile,  and  there  is  so  little  of  that 
in  respect  of  the  great  masses  that  move  in  those  spaces,  that  it 
is  as  much  as  nothing. 

These  masses  of  matter  are  either  luminous,  or  opaque,  or 
dark. 

Luminous  bodies,  are  such  as  give  light  of  themselves ;  and 
such  are  the  sun  and  the  fixed  stars. 

Dark  or  opaque  bodies,  are  such  as  emit  no  light  of  them- 
selves, though  they  are  capable  of  reflecting  of  it,  when  it  is 
cast  upon  them  from  other  bodies  ;  and  such  are  the  planets. 

There  are  some  opaque  bodies,  as  for  instance  the  comets, 
which,  besides  the  light  that  they  may  have  from  the  sun,  seem 
to  shine  with  a  light  that  is  nothing  else  but  an  accension,  which 
they  receive  from  the  sun,  in  their  near  approaches  to  it,  in 
their  respective  revolutions. 

The  fixed  stars  are  called  fixed,  because  they  always  keep 
the  same  distance  one  from  another. 

The  sun,  at  the  same  distance  from  us  that  the  fixed  stars  ar^ , 
would  have  the  appearance  of  one  of  the  fixed  stars. 


(  F1APTER  III. 
i)i'  Oil!  SOLAR  SYSTEM 


Our  solar  system  consists  of  the  sun,   and  the  planets  and 
comets  moving  about  it. 
The  planets  are  bodies,  which  appear  to  us  like  stars  :  not 
Vol,  H  41 


326 


ELEMENTS  OF  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHY". 


that  they  are  luminous  bodies,  that  is,  have  light  in  themselves  ; 
but  they  shine  by  reflecting  the  light  of  the  sun. 

They  are  called  planets  from  a  Greek  word,  which  signifies 
wandering  ;  because  they  change  their  places,  and  do  not  always 
keep  the  same  distance  with  one  another,  nor  with  the  fixed 
stars,  as  the  fixed  stars  do. 

The  planets  are  either  primary,  or  secondary. 

There  are  six  primary  planets,  viz.  Mercury,  Venus,  the 
Earth,  Mars,  Jupiter,  and  Saturn. 

All  these  move  round  the  sun,  which  is,  as  it  were,  the  centre 
of  their  motions. 

The  secondary  planets  move  round  about  other  planets.  Be- 
sides the  moon,  which  moves  about  the  earth,  four  moons  move 
about  Jupiter,  and  five  about  Saturn,  which  are  called  their 
satellites. 

The  middle  distances  of  the  primary  planets  from  the  sun  are 
as  follows  : 


Mercury 

Venus 

The  Earth 

Mars 

Jupiter 

Saturn 


Is   distant  I 
J  from    the  J 
'  Sim's  cen- 
tre,  about 


f   32,000,0001  statutemile, 

59,000,000  |  btT«9£r  ' 

81,000,000  I  ^fC  ,.  /      , 

m  ooo  ooo  r  En&llshand 

424,000,000 
777,000,000  r 


4943 
feet 


French 


The  orbits  of  the  planets,  and  their  respective  distances  from 
the  sun,  and  from  one  another,  together  with  the  orbit  of  a 
comet,  may  be  seen  in  the  figure  of  the  solar  system  hereunto 
annexed. 

The  periodical  times  of  each  planet's  revolution  about  the  sun 
are  as  follows  : 


Mercury 

Venus 

The  Earth 

Mars 

Jupiter 

Saturn 


J 


Revolves 
about  the 
Sun    in    -^ 
the  space  J 
of 


I. 


Y. 

D. 

H. 

M. 

0 

88 

0 

0 

0 

225 

0 

0 

0 

365 

5 

49 

1 

322 

0 

0 

11 

319 

0 

0 

29 

138 

0 

0 

The  planets  move  round  about  the  sun  from  west  to  east  in 
the  zodiac  ;  or  to  speak  plainer,  are  always  found  among  some 
of  the  stars  of  those  constellations  which  make  the  twelve  signs 
of  the  zodiac. 

The  motion  of  the  planets  about  the  sun  is  not  perfectly  cir- 
cular but  rather  elliptical. 

The  reason  of  their  motions  in  curve  lines,  is  the  attraction 
of  the  sun,  or  their  gravitations  towards. the  sun,  (call  it  which 
you  please  :)  and  an  oblique  or  sidelong  impulse  or  motion. 


ELEMENTS  OF  NATURAL  PIIILOSOPHV  32? 

These  two  motions  or  tendencies,  the  one  always  endeavour- 
ing to  carry  them  in  a  straight  line  from  the  circle  they  move  in 
and  the  other  endeavouring  to  draw  them  in  a  straight  line  to 
the  sun,  makes  that  curve  line  they  revolve  in. 

The  motion  of  the  comets  about  the  sun  is  in  a  very  long 
slender  oval :  whereof  one  of  the  focuses  is  the  centre  of  the 
sun,  and  the  other  very  much  beyond  the  sphere  of  Saturn. 

The  moon  moves  about  the  earth,  as  the  earth  doth  about  the 
sun.  So  that  it  hath  the  centre  of  its  motion  in  the  earth  ;  as 
the  earth  hath  the  centre  of  its  revolution  in  the  sun,  about 
which  it  moves. 

The  moon  makes  its  synodical  motion  about  the  earth  in  29 
days,  12  hours,  and  about  44  minutes. 

It  is  full  moon,  when,  the  earth  being  between  the  sun  and 
the  moon,  we  see  all  the  enlightened  part  of  the  moon ;  new 
moon,  when,  the  moon  being  between  us  and  the  sun,  its  en- 
lightened part  is  turned  from  us  ;  and  half  moon,  when  the 
moon  being  in  the  quadratures,  as  the  astronomers  call  it,  we 
see  but  half  the  enlightened  part. 

An  eclipse  of  the  moon  is,  when  the  earth,  being  between  the 
sun  and  the  moon,  hinders  the  light  of  the  sun  from  falling  upon, 
and  being  reflected  by,  the  moon.  If  the  light  of  the  sun  is 
kept  off"  from  the  whole  body  of  the  moon,  it  is  a  total  eclipse  ; 
if  from  a  part  only,  it  is  a  partial  one. 

An  eclipse  of  the  sun  is,  when  the  moon  being  between  the 
sun  and  the  earth,  hinders  the  light  of  the  sun  from  coming  to 
us.  If  the  moon  hides  from  us  the  whole  body  of  the  sun,  it  is 
a  total  eclipse  ;  if  not,  a  partial  one. 

Our  solar  system  is  distant  from  the  fixed  stars  20,000,000,000 
semi-diameters  of  the  earth  ;  or,  as  Mr.  Huygens  expresses 
the  distance,  in  his  Cosmotheoros  :*  the  fixed  stars  are  so  re- 
mote from  the  earth,  that  if  a  cannon-bullet  should  come  from 
one  of  the  fixed  stars  with  as  swift  a  motion  as  it  hath  when  it 
is  shot  out  of  the  mouth  of  a  cannon,  it  would  be  700,000  years 
in  coming  to  the  earth. 

This  vast  distance  so  much  abates  the  attraction  to  those  re- 
mote bodies,  that  its  operation  Upon  those  of  our  system  is  not 
at  all  sensible,  nor  would  draw  away  or  hinder  the  return  of  any 
of  our  solar  comets  ;  though  some  of  them  should  go  so  far 
from  the  sun  as  not  to  make  the  revolution  about  it  in  less  than 
1000  years. 

It  is  more  suitable  to  the  wisdom,  power,  and  greatness  of 
God,  to  think  that  the  fixed  stars  are  all  of  them  suns,  with  sys- 
tems of  inhabitable  planets  moving  about  them,  to  whose  inha- 
bitants he  displays  the  marks  of  his  goodness  as  well  as  to  us  ; 
rather  than  to  imagine  that  those  very  remote  bodies,  so  little 
useful  to  us,  were  made  only  for  our  sake. 

♦Christian!  Huygenii  KO2MO0F.nPO2,  sive  cle  fcerris  ooeleitibos  earumqni 
ornatu  conjecture,  k<-.  p  m 


828 
CHAPTER  IV. 

OF  THE  EARTH,  CONSIDERED  AS  A  PLANET. 

The  earth,  by  its  revolution  about  the  sun  in  365  days,  5 
hours,  49  minutes,  makes  that  space  of  time  we  call  a  year. 

The  line,  which  the  centre  of  the  earth  describes  in  its  annual 
revolution  about  the  sun,  is  called  ecliptic. 

The  annual  motion  of  the  earth  about  the  sun,  is  in  the  order 
of  the  signs  of  the  zodiac  ;  that  is,  speaking  vulgarly,  from  west 
to  east. 

Besides  this  annual  revolution  of  the  earth  about  the  sun  in 
the  ecliptic,  the  earth  turns  round  upon  its  own  axis  in  24 
hours. 

The  turning  of  the  earth  upon  its  own  axis  every  24  hours, 
whilst  it  moves  round  the  sun  in  a  year,  we  may  conceive 
by  the  running  of  a  bowl  on  a  bowling-green ;  in  which  not 
only  the  centre  of  the  bowl  hath  a  progressive  motion  on  the 
green  ;  but  the  bowl  in  its  going  forward,  from  one  part  of  the 
green  to  another,  turns  round  about  its  own  axis. 

The  turning  of  the  earth  on  its  own  axis  makes  the  difference 
of  day  and  night ;  it  being  day  in  those  parts  of  the  earth  which 
are  turned  toward  the  sun  ;  and  night  in  those  parts  which  are  in 
the  shade,  or  turned  from  the  sun. 

The  annual  revolution  of  the  earth  in  the  ecliptic,  is  the 
cause  of  the  different  seasons,  and  of  the  several  lengths  of 
days  and  nights,  in  every  part  of  the  world,  in  the  course  of  the 
year. 

The  reason  of  it,  is  the  earth's  going  round  its  own  axis  in 
the  ecliptic,  but  at  the  same  time  keeping  every  where  its  axis 
equally  inclined  to  the  plane  of  the  ecliptic,  and  parallel  to 
itself.  For  the  plane  of  the  ecliptic  inclining  to  the  plane  of 
the  equator  23  degrees  and  a  half,  makes  that  the  earth,  moving 
round  in  the  ecliptic,  hath  sometimes  one  of  its  poles,  and 
sometimes  the  other,  nearer  the  sun. 

If  the  diameter  of  the  sun  be  to  the  diameter  of  the  earth  as 
48  to  1,  as  by  some  it  is  accounted ;  then  the  disk  of  the  sun, 
speaking  numero  rotundo,  is  above  2000  times  bigger  than  the 
disk  of  the  earth ;  and  the  globe  of  the  sun  is  above  100,000 
times  bigger  than  the  globe  of  the  earth. 

The  distance  of  the  earth's  orbit  from  the  sun,  is  above 
200,000  semi-diameters  of  the  earth. 

If  a  cannon-bullet  should  come  from  the  sun,  with  the  same 
velocity  it  hath  when  it  is  shot  out  of  the  mouth  of  a  cannon,  it 
would  be  25  vears  in  coming  to  the  earth. 


329 
CHAPTER  V. 

OF  THE  AIR  AND  ATMOSPHERE. 

We  have  already  considered  the  earth  as  a  planet,  or  one  of 
the  great  masses  of  matter  moving  about  the  sun  ;  we  shall 
now  consider  it  as  it  is  made  up  of  its  several  parts,  abstractedly 
from  its  diurnal  and  annual  motions. 

The  exterior  part  of  this  our  habitable  world  is  the  air  or 
atmosphere ;  a  light,  thin  fluid,  or  springy  body,  that  encom- 
passes the  solid  earth  on  all  sides. 

The  height  of  the  atmosphere,  above  the  surface  of  the  solid 
earth,  is  not  certainly  known  ;  but  that  it  doth  reach  but  to  a 
very  small  part  of  the  distance  betwixt  the  earth  and  the  moon, 
may  be  concluded  from  the  refraction  of  the  rays  coming  from 
the  sun,  moon,  and  other  luminous  bodies. 

Though  considering  that  the  air  we  are  in,  being  near  1000 
times  lighter  than  water  ;  and  that  the  higher  it  is,  the  less  it  is 
compressed  by  the  superior  incumbent  air,  and  so  consequently 
being  a  springy  body  the  thinner  it  is ;  and  considering  also  that 
a  pillar  of  air  of  any  diameter  is  equal  in  weight  to  a  pillar  of 
quicksilver  of  the  same  diameter  of  between  29  and  30  inches 
height ;  we  may  infer  that  the  top  of  the  atmospliere  is  not  very 
near  the  surface  of  the  solid  earth. 

It  may  be  concluded,  that  the  utmost  extent  of  the  atmos- 
phere reaches  upwards,  from  the  surface  of  the  solid  earth  that 
we  walk  on,  to  a  good  distance  above  us ;  first,  if  we  consider 
that  a  column  of  air  of  any  given  diameter  is  equiponderant  to 
a  column  of  quicksilver  of  between  29  and  30  inches  height. 
Now  quicksilver  being  near  14  times  heavier  than  water,  if  air 
was  as  heavy  as  water,  the  atmosphere  would  be  about  14  times 
higher  than  the  column  of  quicksilver,  i.  e.  about  3.5  feet. 

Secondly,  if  we  consider  that  air  is  1000  times  lighter  than 
water,  then  a  pillar  of  air  equal  in  weight  to  a  pillar  of  quick- 
silver of  30  inches  high  will  be  35,000  feet ;  whereby  we  come 
to  know  that  the  air  or  atmosphere  is  35,000  feet,  i.  e.  near 
seven  miles  high. 

Thirdly,  if  we  consider  that  the  air  is  a  springy  body,  and 
that  that,  which  is  nearest  the  earth,  is  compressed  by  the 
weight  of  all  the  atmosphere  that  is  above  it,  and  rests  perpen- 
dicularly upon  it ;  we  shall  find  that  the  air  here,  near  the  sur- 
face of  the  earth,  is  much  denser  and  thicker  than  it  is  in  the 
upper  parts.  For  example,  if  upon  one  fleece  of  wool  you  lay 
another  ;  the  under  one  will  be  a  little  compressed  by  the  weight 
of  that  which  lies  upon  it ;  and  so  both  of  them  by  a  third,  and 
so  on;  so  that,  if  10,000  were  piled  one  upon  another,  the. 
under  one  would  by  the  weight  of  all  the  rest  be  very  much 


OuO  ELEMENTS  OP  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

compressed,  and  all  the  parts  of  it  be  brought  abundantly  close! 
together  than  when  there  was  no  other  upon  it ;  and  the  next 
to  that  a  little  less  compressed,  the  third  a  little  less  than  the 
second,  and  so  on  till  it  came  to  the  uppermost,  which  would 
be  in  its  full  expansion,  and  not  compressed  at  all.  Just  so  it 
is  in  the  air  ;  the  higher  you  go  in  it,  the  less  it  is  compressed, 
and  consequently  the  less  dense  it  is  ;  and  so  the  upper  part 
being  exceedingly  thinner  than  the  lower  part,  which  we  breathe 
in  (which  is  that  that  is  1000  times  lighter  than  water,)  the  top 
of  the  atmosphere  is  probably  much  higher  than  the  distance 
above  assigned. 

That  the  air  near  the  surface  of  the  earth  will  mightily 
expand  itself,  when  the  pressure  of  the  incumbent  atmosphere 
is  taken  off,  may  be  abundantly  seen  in  the  experiments  made 
by  Mr.  Boyle  in  his  pneumatic  engine.  In  his  Physico-mechani- 
cal  Experiments,  concerning  the  air,  he  declares*  it  probable 
that  the  atmosphere  may  be  several  hundred  miles  high  ;  which 
is  easy  to  be  admitted,  when  we  consider  what  he  proves  in 
another  part  of  the  same  treatise,  viz.  that  the  air  here  about 
the  surface  of  the  earth,  when  the  pressure  is  taken  from  it,  will 
dilate  itself  about  152  times. 

The  atmosphere  is  the  scene  of  the  meteors  ;  and  therein  is 
collected  the  matter  of  rain,  hail,  snow,  thunder,  and  lightning ; 
and  a  grea.t  many  other  things  observable  in  the  air, 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OF  METEORS  IN  GENERAL. 

Besides  the  springy  particles  of  pure  air,  the  atmosphere  is 
made  up  of  several  steams  or  minute  particles  of  several  sorts, 
rising  from  the  earth  and  the  waters,  and  floating  in  the  air, 
which  is  a  fluid  body,  and  though  much  liner  and  thinner,  may 
be  considered  in  respect  of  its  fluidity  to  be  like  water,  and  so 
capable,  like  other  liquors,  of  having  heterogeneous  particles 
floating  in  it. 

The  most  remarkable  of  them  are,  first,  the  particles  of 
water  raised  into  the  atmosphere,  chiefly  by  the  heat  of  the  sun, 
out  of  the  sea  and  other  waters,  and  the  surface  of  the  earth  ; 
from  whence  it  falls  in  dew,  rain,  hail,  and  snow. 

Out  of  the  vapours  rising  from  moisture  the  clouds  are  prin- 
cipally made. 


ELEMENTS  OK  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHY.  &J1 

Clouds  do  not  consist  wholly  of  watery  parts ;  for,  besides 
ihe  aqueous  vapours  that  are  raised  into  the  air,  there  are  also 
sulphureous  and  saline  particles  that  are  raised  up,  and  in  the 
clouds  mixed  with  the  aqueous  particles,  the  effects  whereof  are 
sometimes  very  sensible  ;  as  particularly  in  lightning  and  thun- 
der, when  the  sulphureous  and  nitrous  particles  firing  break  out 
with  that  violence  of  light  and  noise,  which  is  observable  in 
thunder,  and  very  much  resembles  gun-powder. 

That  there  are  nitrous  particles  raised  into  the  air  is  evident 
from  the  nourishment  which  rain  gives  to  vegetables  more  than 
any  other  water ;  and  also  by  the  collection  of  nitre  or  salt- 
petre in  heaps  of  earth,  out  of  which  it  has  been  extracted,  if 
they  be  exposed  to  the  air,  so  as  to  be  kept  from  rain ;  not  to 
mention  other  efforts,  wherein  the  nitrous  spirit  in  the  air  shows 
itself. 

Clouds  are  the  greatest  and  most  considerable  of  all  the  me- 
teors, as  furnishing  matter  and  plenty  to  the  earth.  They  con- 
sist of  very  small  drops  of  water,  and  are  elevated  a  good 
distance  above  the  surface  of  the  earth  ;  for  a  cloud  is  nothing* 
but  a  mist  flying  high  in  the  air,  as  a  mist  is  nothing  but  a  cloud 
here  below. 

How  vapours  are  raised  into  the  air  in  invisible  steams  by  the 
heat  of  the  sun  out  of  the  sea,  and  moist  parts  of  the  earth,  is 
easily  understood  ;  and  there  is  a  visible  instance  of  it  in  ordi- 
nary distillations.  But  how  these  steams  are  collected  into 
drops,  which  bring  back  the  water  again,  is  not  so  easy  to 
determine. 

To  those  that  will  carefully  observe,  perhaps  it  will  appear 
probable,  that  it  is  by  that  which  the  chymists  call  precipitation  ; 
to  which  it  answers  in  all  its  parts. 

The  air  may  be  looked  on  as  a  clear  and  pellucid  menstruum, 
in  which  the  insensible  particles  of  dissolved  matter  float  up  and 
down,  without  being  discerned,  or  troubling  the  pellucidity  of 
the  air ;  when  on  a  sudden,  as  if  it  were  by  a  precipitation, 
they  gather  into  the  very  small  but  visible  misty  drops  that  make 
clouds. 

This  may  be  observed  sometimes  in  a  very  clear  sky  ;  when, 
there  not  appearing  any  cloud,  or  any  thing  opaque,  in  the  whole 
horizon,  one  may  see  on  a  sudden  clouds  gather,  and  all  the 
hemisphere  overcast ;  which  cannot  be  from  the  rising  of  the 
new  aqueous  vapours  at  that  time,  but  from  the  precipitation  of 
the  moisture,  that  in  invisible  particles  floated  in  the  air,  into 
very  small  but  very  visible  drops,  which  by  a  like  cause  being- 
united  into  greater  drops,  they  become  too  heavy  to  be  sus- 
tained in  the  air,  and  so  fall  down  in  rain. 

Hail  seems  to  be  the  drops  of  rain  frozen  in  their  falling. 

Snow  is  the  stoat]  particles  of  water  frozen  before  they  unite 
into  drops. 

The  regular  figures,  which  branch  out  in  flakes  of  snow,  seem 


!532  ELEMENTS  OF  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHY, 

to  show  that  there  are  some  particles  of  salt  mixed  with  the 
water,  which  makes  them  unite  in  certain  angles. 

The  rainbow  is  reckoned  one  of  the  most  remarkable  meteors, 
though  really  it  be  no  meteor  at  all ;  but  the  reflection  of  the 
sunbeams  from  the  smallest  drops  of  a  cloud  or  mist,  which  are 
placed  in  a  certain  angle  made  by  the  concurrence  of  two  lines, 
one  drawn  from  the  sun,  and  the  other  from  the  eye  to  these 
little  drops  in  the  cloud,  which  reflect  the  sunbeams ;  so  that 
.two  people,  looking  upon  a  rainbow  at  the  same  time,  do  not 
see  exactly  the  same  rainbow. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OF  SPRINGS,  RIVERS,  AND  THE  SEA. 

Part  of  the  water  that  falls  down  from  the  clouds  runs  away 
upon  the  surface  of  the  earth  into  channels,  which  convey 
it  to  the  sea  ;  and  part  of  it  is  imbibed  in  the  spungy  shell 
of  the  earth,  from  whence  sinking  lower  by  degrees,  it  falls 
down  into  subterranean  channels,  and  so  under  ground  passes 
into  the  sea  ;  or  else,  meeting  with  beds  of  rock  or  clay,  it  is 
hindered  from  sinking  lower,  and  so  breaks  out  in  springs,  which 
are  most  commonly  in  the  sides  or  at  the  bottom  of  hilly 
ground. 

Springs  make  little  rivulets  ;  those  united  make  brooks ;  and 
those  coming  together  make  rivers,  which  empty  themselves 
into  the  sea. 

The  sea  is  a  great  collection  of  waters  in  the  deep  valleys  of 
the  earth.  If  the  earth  were  all  plain,  and  had  not  those  deep 
hollows,  the  earth  would  be  all  covered  with  water ;  because 
the  water,  being  lighter  than  the  earth,  would  be  above  the 
earth,  as  the  air  is  above  the  water. 

The  most  remarkable  thing  in  the  sea  is  that  motion  of  the 
water  called  tides.  It  is  a  rising  and  falling  of  the  water  of  the 
>ea.  The  cause  of  this  is  the  attraction  of  the  moon,  whereby 
the  part  of  the  water  in  the  great  ocean,  which  is  nearest  the 
moon,  being  most  strongly  attracted,  is  raised  higher  than  the 
rest ;  and  the  part  opposite  to  it  on  the  contrary  side,  being- 
least  attracted,  is  also  higher  than  the  rest.  And  these  two 
opposite  rises  of  the  surface  of  the  water  in  the  great  ocean, 
following  the  motion  of  the  moon  from  east  to  west,  and  striking 
against  the  large  coasts  of  the  continents  that  lie  in  its  way, 
from  thence  rebounds  back  again,  and  so  makes  floods  and  ebbs 
in  narrow  seas,  and  rivers  remote  from  the  great  ocean.  Herein 
we  also  see  the  reason  of  the  times  of  the  tides,  and  why  they 
so  constantly  follow  the  course  of  the  moon. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

PF  SEVERAL,    30RT8  OF  EARTH,   STONflS,  KffiTALS,  FUNERAL?., 
AND  OTHER  FOSSIM. 

Tins  solid  globe  we  live  upon  is  failed  the  earth,  though  it. 
contains  in  it  a  great  variety  of  bodies,  several  whereof  are  not 
properly  earth ;  which  word,  token  in  a  more  limited  sense, 
signifies  such  parts  of  this  globe  as  are  capable,  being  exposed 
to  the  air,  to  give  rooting  and  nourishment  to  plants,  so  thai 
they  may  stand  and  grow  in  it.  With  such  earth  as  this  the 
greatest  part  of  the  surface  of  this  globe  is  covered  ;  and  it  is 
as  it  were  the  store-house,  from  whence  all  the  living  creatures 
of  our  world  have  originally  their  provisions  ;  for  from  thence 
all  the  plants  have  their  sustenance,  and  some  few  animals,  and 
from  these  all  the  other  animals. 

Of  earth,  taken  in  this  sense,  there  are  several  sorts,  v..  g. 
commiSn'mould,  or  garden  earth,  clay  of  several  kinds,  sandy 
oils. 

Besides  these,  there  is  medicinal  earth ;  as  that  which  is  called 
srrh  Lemnia,  bolus  armena,  and  divers  others. 

After  the  several  earths,  Ave  may  consider  the  parts  of  the 
surface  of  this  globe  which  are  barren  ;  and  such,  for  the  most, 
arc  sand,  gravel,  chalk,  and  rocks,  which  produce  nothing, 
where  they  have  no  earth  mixed  among  them.  Barren  sands 
are  of  divers  kinds,  and  consist  of  several  little  irregular  stones 
without  any  earth  ;  and  of  such  there  are  great  deserts  to  be 
seen  in  several  parts  of  the  world. 

Besides  these,  which  are  most  remarkable  on  the  surface  of 
the  earth,  there  are  found  deeper,  in  this  globe,  many  other 
bodies,  which,  because  we  discover  by  digging  into  the  bowels 
o(  the  earth,  are  called  by  one  common  name,  fossils ;  under 
which  are  comprehended  metals,  minerals,  or  half  metals,  stones 
of  divers  kinds,  and  sundry  bodies  that  have  the  texture  between 
earth  and  stone. 

To  begin  with  those  fossils  which  come  nearest  the  earth  ; 
under  this  head  we  may  reckon  the  several  sorts  of  ochre,  chalk, 
that  which  they  call  black-lead,  and  other  bodies  of  this  kind„ 
which  are  harder  than  earth,  but  have  not  the  consistency  and 
hardness  of  perfect  stone. 

Next  to  these  may  be  considered  stones  of  all  sorts  ;  whereof 
there  is  almost  an  infinite  variety.     Some  of  the  most  remark-, 
able,  either  for  beauty  or  use,  are  these  :  marble   of  all  kindft] 
porphyry,  granite,  freestone,  &c.  (lints,  agates,  cornelians, peW 
blea,  under  which  kind  come  the  precious  stones,  which  are  b) 
pebbles  of  an  excessive  hardness,  and,  when  they  are  cut  a 
polished,  they  have  nn  extraordinary  lustre.     The  most  no' 

Vot.  rr  $ 


334  ELEMENTS  OF  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHV. 

and  esteemed  are  diamonds,  rubies,  amethysts,  emeralds,  topazes, 
opals. 

Besides  these  we  must  not  omit  those  which,  though  of  not 
so  much  beauty,  yet  are  of  greater  use,  viz.  loadstones,  whet- 
stones of  all  kinds,  limestones,  calamine,  or  lapis  calaminaris  ; 
and  abundance  of  others. 

Besides  these,  there  are  found  in  the  earth  several  sorts  of 
salts,  as  eating  or  common  salt,  vitriol,  sal  gemma,  and  others. 

The  minerals,  or  semi-metals,  that  are  dug  out  of  the  bowels 
of  the  earth,  are  antimony,  cinnabar,  zinc,  &c.  to  which  may  be 
added  brimstone. 

But  the  bodies  of  most  use,  that  are  sought  for  out  of  the 
depths  of  the  earth,  are  the  metals  ;  which  are  distinguished 
from  other  bodies  by  their  weight,  fusibility,  and  malleableness  ; 
of  which  there  are  these  sorts,  gold,  silver,  copper,  tin,  lead, 
and,  the  most  valuable  of  them  all,  iron ;  to  which  one  may 
join  that  anomalous  body  quicksilver,  or  mercury. 

He  that  desires  to  be  more  particulary  informed  concerning 
the  qualities  and  properties  of  these  subterraneous  bodies,  may 
consult  natural  historians  and  chymists. 

What  lies  deeper  toward  the  centre  of  the  earth  we  know 
not,  but  a  very  little  beneath  the  surface  of  this  globe  ;  and 
whatever  we  fetch  from  under  ground  is  only  what  is  lodged  in 
the  shell  of  the  earth. 

All  stones,  metals,  and  minerals,  are  real  vegetables  ;  that  is. 
grow  organically  from  proper  seeds,  as  well  as  plants. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

OF  VEGETABLES,   OR  PLANTS. 

Next  to  the  earth  itself,  we  may  consider  those  that  are 
maintained  on  its  surface  ;  which,  though  they  are  fastened  to 
it,  yet  are  very  distinct  from  it ;  and  those  are  the  whole  tribe  of 
vegetables  or  plants.  These  may  be  divided  into  three  sorts, 
herbs,  shrubs,  and  tr,ees. 

Herbs  are  those  plants  whose  stalks  are  soft,  and  have 
nothing  woody  in  them,  as  grass,  sowthistle,  and  hemlock. 
Shrubs  and  trees  have  all  wood  in  them  ;  but  with  this  differ- 
ence, that  shrubs  grow  not  to  the  height  of  trees,  and  usually 
spread  into  branches  near  the  surface  of  the  earth ;  whereas 
trees  generally  shoot  up  in  one  great  stem  or  body,  and  then,  at 
a  good  distance  from  the  earth,  spread  into  branches  ;  thus 
gooseberries  and  currants  are  shrubs  ;  oaks  and  cherries  are 
Trees. 

In  plants,  the  most  considerable  parts  are  these,  the  root,  thp 


ELEMENTS  OF  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHY.  335 

Malk,  the  leaves,  the  flower,  and  the  seed.  There  are  very  few 
of  them  that  have  not  all  these  parts,  though  some  there  are 
that  have  no  stalk  ;  others  that  have  no  leaves  ;  and  others  that 
have  no  flowers.  But  without  seed  or  root  I  think  there  are 
none. 

In  vegetables,  there  are  two  things  chiefly  to  be  considered, 
their  nourishment  and  propagation. 

Their  nourishment  is  thus  :  the  small  and  tender  fibres  of  the 
roots  being  spread  under  ground,  imbibe,  from  the  moist  earth, 
juice  fit  for  their  nourishment ;  this  is  conveyed  by. the  stalk  up 
into  the  branches  and  leaves,  through  little,  and,  in  some  plants, 
imperceptible  tubes,  and  from  thence,  by  the  bark,  returns  again 
to  the  root ;  so  that  there  is  in  vegetables,  as  well  as  animals,  a 
circulation  of  the  vital  liquor.  By  what  impulse  it  is  moved,  is 
somewhat  hard  to  discover.  It  seems  to  be  from  the  dilFerence 
of  day  and  night,  and  other  changes  in  the  heat  of  the  air ;  for 
the  heat  dilating,  and  the  cold  contracting  those  little  tubes, 
supposing  there  be  valves  in  them,  it  is  easy  to  be  conceived 
how  the  circulation  is  performed  in  plants,  where  it  is  not 
required  to  be  so  rapid  and  quick  as  in  animals. 

Nature  has  provided  for  the  propagation  of  the  species  of 
plants  several  ways.  The  first  and  general  is  by  seed.  Besides 
this,  some  plants  are  raised  from  any  part  of  the  root  set  in  the 
ground  ;  others  by  new  roots  that  are  propagated  from  the  old 
one,  as  in  tulips  ;  others  by  offsets,  and  in  others,  the  branches 
set  in  the  ground  will  take  root  and  grow  ;  and  last  of  all,  graft- 
ing and  inoculation,  in  certain  sorts,  are  known  ways  of  propa- 
gation. All  these  ways  of  increasing  plants  make  one  good 
part  of  the  skill  of  gardening ;  and  from  the  books  of  garden- 
"rs  mavbe  best  learnt. 


<  IIAPTK1?    \ 
OF  ANIMALS. 

TiiEpa:  is  another  sort  of  creatures  belonging  to  this  our 
earth,  rather  as  inhabitants  than  parts  of  it.  They  differ  in  this 
from  plants,  that  they  are  not  fixed  to  any  one  place,  but  have  a 
freedom  of  motion  up  and  down,  and,  besides,  have  sense  to 
guide  them  in  their  motions. 

Man  and  brute  divide  all  the  animals  of  this  our  globe. 

Brutes  may  be  considered  as  either  aerial,  terrestrial,  aquatic, 
or  amphibious.  I  call  those  ;i»  rial  which  have  wings,  wherewith 
they  can  support  themselves  in  the  air.  Terrestrial  are  those 
whose  only  place  of  rest  is  upon  the  earth.  Aquatic  are  those 
whose   cnitstijiit  abode  is  upon  the  water.     Those   are   called 


'336  ELEMENTS  OF  NATtiRAL  J'HILOSOrm. 

amphibious,  which  live  freely  in  the  air  upon  the  earth,  and  yet 
are  observed  to«live  long  upon  the  water,  as  if  they  were  natu- 
ral inhabitants  of  that  element ;  though  it  be  worth  the  examin- 
ation to  know  whether  any  of  those  creatures  that  live  at  their 
ease,  and  by  choice,  a  good  while  or  at  any  time  upon  the  earth, 
can  live  a  long  time  together  perfectly  under  water. 

Aerial  animals  may  be  subdivided  into  birds,  and  flies. 

Fishes,  which  are  the  chief  part  of  aquatic  animals,  may  be 
divided  into  shell-fishes,  scaly  fishes,  and  those  that  have  neither 
apparent  scales  nor  shells. 

And  the  terrestrial  animals  may  be  divided  into  quadrupeds  or 
beasts,  reptiles,  which  have  many  feet,  and  serpents,  which  have 
no  feet  at  all. 

Insects,  which  in  their  several  changes  belong  to  several  of 
the  before-mentioned  divisions,  may  be  considered  together  as 
one  great  tribe  of  animals.  They  are  called  insects,  from  a 
>eparation  in  the  middle  of  their  bodies,  whereby  they  are,  as 
it  were,  cut  into  two  parts,  which  are  joined  together  by  a  smalt 
ligature  ;  as  "we  see  in  wasps,  common  flies,  and  the  like. 

Besides  all  these,  there  are  some  animals  that  are  not  perfectly 
of  these  kinds,  but  placed,  as  it  were,  in  the'  middle  betwixt 
two  of  them,  by  something  of  both  ;  as  bats,  which  have 
something  of  beasts  and  birds  in  them. 

Some  reptiles  of  the  earth,  and  some  of  aquatics,  want  one 
or  more  of  the  senses  which  are  in  perfecter  animals;  as  worms, 
oysters,  cockles,  &c. 

Animals  are  nourished  by  food,  taken  in  at  the  mouth,  digest- 
ed in  the  stomach,  and  thence  by  fit  vessels  distributed  over  the 
whole  body,  as  is  described  in  books  of  anatomy. 

The  greatest  part  of  animals  have  five  senses,  viz.  seeing, 
hearing,  smelling,  tasting,  and  feeling.  These,  and  the  way  of 
nourishment  of  animals,  we  shall  more  particularly  consider; 
because  thev  are  common  to  man  with  beasts. 

The  way  of  nourishment  of  animals,  particularly  of  man,  is 
by  food  taken  in  at  the  mouth,  which  being  chewed  there,  is 
broken  and  mixed  with  the  saliva,  and  thereby  prepared  for  an 
easier  and  better  digestion  in  the  stomach. 

When  the  stomach  has  performed  its  office  upon  the  food,  it 
protrudes  it  into  the  guts,  by  whose  peristaltic  motion  it  is  gently 
conveyed  along  through  the  guts,  and,  as  it  passes,  the  chyle, 
which  is  the  nutritive  part,  is  separated  from  the  excrementitious, 
by  the  lacteal  veins  ;  and  from  thence  conveyed  into  the  blood, 
with  which  it  circulates  till  itself  be  concocted  into  blood.  The 
blood,  being  by  the  vena  cava  brought  into  the  right  ventricle  of 
the  heart,  by  the  contraction  of  that  muscle,  is  driven  through  the 
arteria  pulmonaris  into  the  lungs ;  where  the  constantly  inspired 
air  mixing  with  it,  enlivens  it ;  and  from  thence  being  conveyed  by 
the  vena  pulmonaris  into  the  left  ventricle  of  the  heart,  the  con- 
ttftcfion  of  the  heart  forces  it  out,  and  by  the  arteries,  distributes 


ELEMENTS  OF  NATURAL  l'JJILOSOPIIl ,  037 

;t  into  all  parts  of  the  body  ;  from  whence  it  returns  by  the  veins 
into  the  right  ventricle  of  the  heart,  to  take  the  same  course 
again.  This  is  called  the  circulation  of  the  blood  ;  by  which 
lite  and  heat  arc  communicated  to  every  part  of  the  body. 

In  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  a  good  part  of  it  goes  up  into 
the  head ;  and  by  the  brains  are  separated  from  it,  or  made  out 
of  it,  the  animal  spirits  ;  which,  by  the  nerves,  impart  sense  and 
motion  to  all  parts  of  the  body. 

The  instruments  of  motion  are  the  muscles  ;  the  fibres 
whereof  contracting  themselves,  move  the  several  parts  of  the 
body. 

This  contraction  of  the  muscles  is,  in  some  of  them,  by  the 
direction  of  the  mind,  and  in  some  of  them  without  it  ;  which 
is  the  difference  between  voluntary  and  involuntary  motions  in 
the  bodv. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

OF  THE  FIVE  SENSES. 
OF  SEEING. 


The  organ  of  seeing  is  the  eye ;  consisting  of  variety  of  parts 
wonderfully  contrived,  for  the  admitting  and  refracting  the  rays 
of  light ;  so  that  those  that  come  from  the  same  point  of  the 
object,  and  fall  upon  different  parts  of  the  pupil,  are  brought  to 
meet  again  at.the  bottom  of  the  eye,  whereby  the  whole  object 
is  painted  on  the  retina  that  is  spread  there. 

That  which  immediately  affects  the  sight,  and  produces  in  us 
that  sensation  which  we  call  seeing,  is  light. 

Light  may  be  considered  either,  first,  as  it  radiates  from  lumi- 
nous bodies  directly  to  our  eyes  ;  and  thus  we  see  luminous 
bodies  themselves,  as  the  sun,  or  a  flame,  &c.  or  secondly,  as  it 
is  reflected  from  other  bodies ;  and  thus  we  see  a  man,  or  a 
picture,  by  the  rays  of  light  reflected  from  them  to  our  eyes. 

Bodies  in  respect  of  light,  may  be  divided  into  three  sorts  : 
first,  those  that  emit  rays  of  light,  as  the  sun  and  fixed  stars  ; 
secondly,  those  that  transmit  the  rays  of  light,  as  the  air; 
thirdly,  these  that  reflect  the  rays  of  light,  as  iron,  earth,  &c. 
The  first  are  called  luminous ;  the  second  pellucid  ;  and  the  third 
opaque. 

The  rays  of  light  themselves  are  not  seen ;  but  by  them  the 
bodies,  from  which  they  originally  come  ;  as  the  sun,  or  a  fixed 
star  ;  or  the  bodies,  from  which  they  are  reflected  ;  as  a  horse, 
or  a   tulip.     When  the  rn^on  shines,   we  do  not  see  the  ravs 


338  klbme^t s  op  natural  philosophy. 

which  come  from  the  sun  to  the  moon,  but  by  them  we  see  the 
moon,  from  whence  they  are  reflected. 

If  the  eye  be  placed  in  the  medium,  through  which  the  rays 
pass  to  it,  the  medium  is  not  seen  at  all ;  for  instance,  we  do  not 
see  the  air  through  which  the  rays  come  to  our  eyes.  But  if  a 
pellucid  body,  through  which  the  light  comes,  be  at  a  distance 
from  our  eye,  we  see  that  body,  as  well  as  the  bodies  from 
whence  the  rays  come  that  pass  through  them  to  come  to  our 
eyes.  For  instance,  we  do  not  only  see  bodies  through  a  pair 
of  spectacles,  but  we  see  the  glass  itself.  The  reason  whereof 
is,  that  pellucid  bodies  being  bodies,  the  surfaces  of  which  re- 
flect some  rays  of  light  from  their  solid  parts,  these  surfaces, 
placed  at  a  convenient  distance  from  the  eye,  may  be  seen  by 
those  reflected  rays  ;  as,  at  the  same  time,  other  bodies  beyond 
those  pellucid  ones  may  be  seen  by  the  transmitted  rays. 

Opaque  bodies  are  of  two  sorts,  specular,  or  not  specular. 
Specular  bodies,  or  mirrors,  are  such  opaque  bodies,  whose  sur- 
faces are  polished  ;  whereby  they,  reflecting  the  rays  in  the 
same  order  as  they  come  from  other  bodies,  show  us  their 
images. 

The  rays  that  are  reflected  from  opaque  bodies  always  bring 
with  them  to  the  eye  the  idea  of  colour  ;  and  this  colour  is 
nothing  else,  in  the  bodies,  but  a  disposition  to  reflect  to  the  eye 
more  copiously  one  sort  of  rays  than  another.  For  particular 
rays  are  originally  endowed  With  particular  colours  ;  some  are 
red,  others  blue,  others  yellow,  and  others  green,  &c. 

Every  ray  of  light,  as  it  comes  from  the  sun,  seems  a  bundle 
of  all  these  several  sorts  of  rays ;  and  as  some  of  them  are 
more  refrangible  than  others  ;  that  is,  are  more  turned  out  of 
their  course,  in  passing  from  one  medium  to  another  ;  it  follows, 
that  after  such  refraction  they  will  be  separated,  and  their  dis- 
tinct colour  observed.  Of  these,  the  most  refrangible  are  violet, 
and  the  least  red  ;  and  the  intermediate  ones,  in  order,  are  in- 
digo, blue,  green,  yellow,  and  orange.  This  separation  is  very 
entertaining,  and  will  be  observed  with  pleasure  in  holding  a 
prism  in  the  beams  of  the  sun. 

As  all  these  rays  differ  in  refrangibility,  so  they  do  in  reflexi- 
bility  ;  that  is,  in  the  property  of  being  more  easily  reflected 
from  certain  bodies  than  from  others  ;  and  hence  arise,  as  hath 
been  said,  all  the  colours  of  bodies  ;  which  are,  in  a  manner, 
infinite,  as  an  infinite  number  of  compositions  and  proportions,  of 
the  original  colours,  maybe  imagined. 

The  whiteness  of  the  sun's  light  is  compounded  of  all  the 
original  colours,  mixed  in  a  due  proportion. 

Whiteness,  in  bodies,  is  but  a  disposition  to  reflect  all  colours 
of  light,  nearly  in  the  proportion  they  are  mixed  in  the  original 
rays  ;  as,  on  the  contrary,  blackness  is  only  a  disposition  to  ab- 
sorb or  stifle,  without  reflection,  most  of  the  rays  of  every  sort 
that  full  on  the  bodies: 


ELEMENTS  OF  IJATUftAL  PHILOSOPHY  839 

Light  is  successively  propagated  with  an  almost  inconceive- 
able  swiftness  ;  for  it  comes  lrom  the  sun  to  this  our  earth,  In 
about  seven  or  eight  minutes  of  time,  which  distance  is  about 
80,000,000  English  miles. 

Besides  colour,  we  are  supposed  to  see  figure  ;  but,  in  truth, 
that  whieh  we  perceive  when  we  see  figure,  as  perceivable  by 
sight,  is  nothing  but  the  .termination  of  colour. 

OF  iiearinu. 

Next  to  seeing,  hearing  is  the  most  extensive  of  our  senses. 
The  ear  is  the  organ  of  hearing,  whose  curious  structure  is  to  be 
learnt  from  anatomy. 

That  which  is  conveyed  into  the  brain  by  the  ear  is  called 
sound  ;  though,  in  truth,  rill  it  come  to  reach  and  affect  the  per- 
ceptive part,  it  be  nothing  but  motion. 

The  motion  which  produces  in  us  the*  perception  of  sound,  is 
a  vibration  of  the  air,  caused  by  an  exceeding  short,  but  quick, 
tremulous  motion  of  the  body  from  which  it  is  propagated  ;  and 
therefore  we  consider  and  denominate  them  as  bodies  sounding. 

That  sound  is  the  effect  of  such  a  short,  brisk,  vibrating  mo- 
tion of  bodies  from  which  it  is  propagated,  may  be  known  from 
what  is  observed  and  felt  in  the  strings  of  instruments,  and  the 
trembling  of  bells,  as  long  as  we  perceive  any  sound  come  from 
them  ;  for  as  soon  as  that  vibration  is  stopped,  or  ceases  in  them, 
the  perception  ceases  also. 

The  propagation  of  sound  is  very  quick,  but  not  approaching 
that  of  light;  Sounds  move  about  1140  English  feet  in  a  second 
of  time  ;  and  in  seven  or  eight  minutes  of  time  they  move  about 
one  hundred  English  miles. 

OF  g.AIELLIX. 

Smelling  is  another  sense,  that  seems  to  be  wrought  on  bv 
bodies  at  a  distance  ;  though  that  which  immediately  affects  the 
organ,  and  produces  in  us  the  sensation  of  any  smell,  are  efflu- 
via, or  invisible  particles,  that,  coming  from  bodies  at  a  distance 
immediately  affect  the  olfactory  nerves. 

Smelling  bodies  seem  perpetually  to  send  forth  effluvia,  or 
steams,  without  sensibly  wasting  at  ail.  Thus  a  grain  of  musk 
will  send  forth  odoriferous  particles  for  scores  of  years  together, 
without  its  being  spent  ;  whereby  one  would  conclude  that  these 
particles  are  very  small  ;  and  yet  it  is  plain  that  they  are  much 
grosser  than  the  rays  of  light,  which  have  a  free  passage  through 
glass  ;  and  grosser  also  than  the  magnetic  effluvia,  which  pass 
freely  through  all  bodies,  when  those  that  produce  smell  will  not 
pass  through  the  thin  membranes  of  a  bladder,  and  many  of 
them  scarce  ordinary  white  pane, 

Tiu-re  is  a  great  variety  of  smelts,  though  we  hare  but  a  few 


340  ELEMENTS  GP  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

names  for  them;  sweet,  stinking,  sour,  rank,  and  musty,  are 
almost  all  the  denominations  we  have  for  odours  ;  though  the 
smell  of  a  violet,  and  of  musk,  both  called  sweet,  are  as  distinct 
as  any  two  smells  whatsoever. 

OP  TASTE. 

Taste  is  the  next  sense  to  be  considered. 

The  organ  of  taste  is  the  tongue  and  palate. 

Bodies  that  emit  light,  sounds,  and  smells,  are  seen,  heard, 
and  smelt  at  a  distance  ;  but  bodies  are  not  tasted,  but  by  imme- 
diate application  to  the  organ ;  for  till  our  meat  touch  ouv 
tongues,  or  palates,  we  taste  it  not,  how  near  soever  it  be. 

It  may  be  observed  of  tastes,  that  though  there  be  a  great 
variety  of  them,  yet,  as  in  smells,  they  have  only  some  few 
general  names ;  as  sweet,  bitter,  sour,  harsh,  rank,  and  some 
lew  others. 

OF  TOUCH. 

The  fifth  and  last  of  our  senses  is  touch  ;  a  sense  spread  over 
the  whole  body,  though  it  be  most  eminently  placed  in  the  ends 
of  the  fingers. 

By  this  sense  the  tangible  qualities  of  bodies  are  discerned  ; 
as  hard,  soft,  smooth,  rough,  dry,  wet,  clammy,  and  the  like. 

But  the  most  considerable  of  the  qualities  that  are  perceived 
by  this  sense,  are  heat  and  cold. 

The  due  temperament  of  those  two  opposite  qualities  is  the 
great  instrument  of  nature  that  she  makes  use  of  in  most,  if  not 
all  her  productions. 

Heat  is  a  very  brisk  agitation  of  the  insensible  parts  of  the 
object,  which  produces  in  us  that  sensation  from  whence  we 
denominate  the  object  hot  ;  so  what  in  our  sensation  is  heat,  in. 
the  object  is  nothing  but  motion.  This  appears  by  the  way 
whereby  heat  is  produced ;  for  we  see  that  the  rubbing  of  a 
brass  nail  upon  a  board  will  make  it  very  hot ;  and  the  axle- 
trees  of  carts  and  coaches  are  often  hot,  and  sometimes  to  a 
degree,  that  it  sets  them  on  fire,  by  the  rubbing  of  the  nave  of 
the  wheel  upon  it. 

On  the  other  side,  the  utmost  degree  of  cold  is  the  cessation 
of  that  motion  of  the  insensible  particles,  which  to  our  touch  is 
heat. 

Bodies  are  denominated  hot  and  cold  in  proportion  to  the 
present  temperament  of  that  part  of  our  body  to  which  they 
are  applied  ;  so  that  feels  hot  to  one,  which  seems  cold  to 
another  ;  nay,  the  same  body,  felt  by  the  two  hands  of  the  same 
man,  may  at  the  same  time  appear  hot  to  the  one,  and  cold  to 
the  other ;  because  the  motion  of  the  insensible  particles  of  it 
may  be  more  bri«k  than  that  of  the  particles  of  the  other 


ELEMENTS  OF  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHY.  341 

Besides  the  objects  before  mentioned,  which  are  peculiar  to 
each  of  our  senses,  as  light  and  colour  of  the  sight ;  sound  of 
hearing ;  odours  of  smelling  ;  savours  of  tasting  ;  and  tangible 
qualities  of  the  touch  ;  there  are  two  others  that  are  common  to 
all  the  senses ;  and  those  are  pleasure  and  pain,  which  they 
may  receive  by  and  with  their  peculiar  objects.  Thus,  too 
much  light  offends  the  eye  ;  some  sounds  delight,  and  others 
grate  the  ear ;  heat  in  a  certain  degree  is  very  pleasant,  which 
may  be  augmented  to  the  greatest  torment ;  and  so  the  rest. 

These  five  senses  are  common  to  beasts  with  men ;  nay,  in 
some  of  them,  some  brutes  exceed  mankind.  But  men  are 
endowed  with  other  faculties,  which  far  excel  any  thing  that  is 
to  be  found  in  the  other  animals  in  this  our  globe. 

Memory  also  brutes  may  be  supposed  to  have,  as  wrell  as 
men. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
OF  THE  UND&ftSTANDfSTG  OF  MAX. 

The  understanding  of  man  does  so  surpass  that  of  brutes, 
that  some  are  of  opinion  brutes  are  mere  machines,  without  any 
manner  of  perception  at  all.  But  letting  this  opinion  alone  as 
ill-grounded,  we  will  proceed  to  the  consideration  of  human 
understanding,  and  the  distinct  operations  thereof. 

The  lowest  degree  of  it  consists  in  perception,  which  we  have 
before  in  part  taken  notice  of,  in  our  discourse  of  the  senses. 
Concerning  wrhich  it  may  be  convenient  farther  to  observe,  that, 
to  conceive  a  right  notion  of  perception,  we  must  consider  the 
distinct  objects  of  it,  which  are  simple  ideas  ;  v.  g.  such  as  are 
those  signified  by  these  words,  scarlet,  blue,  sweet,  bitter,  heat, 
cold,  &c.  from  the  other  objects  of  our  senses ;  to  which  we 
may  add  the  internal  operations  of  our  minds,  as  the  objects  of 
our  own  reflection,  such  as  are  thinking,  willing,  &c. 

Out  of  these  simple  ideas  are  made,  by  putting  them  together, 
several  compounded  or  complex  ideas  ;  as  those  signified  by  the 
words  pebble,  marygold,  horse. 

The  next  thing  the  understanding  doth  in  its  progress  to 
knowledge,  is  to  abstract  its  ideas,  by  which  abstraction  they  are 
made  general, 

A  general  idea  is  an  idea  in  the  mind,  considered  there  as 
separated  from  time  and  place  ;  and  so  capable  to  represent  any 
particular  being  that  is  conformable  to  it.  Knowledge,  which 
is  the  highest  degree  of  the  speculative  faculties,  consists  in  the 
perception  of  the  truth  of  affirmative  or  negative  propositions. 

This  perception  is  either  immediate  or  mediate.     Immediate 

Yol.   I!  11 


342  ELEMENTS  OF  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

perception  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  two  ideas  is. 
when,  by  comparing  them  together  in  our  minds,  we  see,  or,  as 
it  were,  behold,  their  agreement  or  disagreement.  This,  there- 
fore, is  called  intuitive  knowledge.  Thus  we  see  that  red  is  not 
green  ;  that  the  whole  is  bigger  than  a  part ;  and  that  two  and 
two  are  equal  to  four. 

The  truth  of  these  and  the  like  propositions  we  know  by  a 
bare  simple  intuition  of  the  ideas  themselves,  without  any  more 
ado  ;  and  such  propositions  are  called  self-evident. 

The  mediate  perception  of  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of 
two  ideas  is,  when,  by  the  intervention  of  one  or  more  other 
ideas,  their  agreement  or  disagreement  is  shown.  This  is  called 
demonstration,  or  rational  knowledge.  For  instance,  the  ine- 
quality of  the  breadth  of  two  windows,  or  two  rivers,  or  any 
two  bodies  that  cannot  be  put  together,  may  be  known  by  the 
intervention  of  the  same  measure  applied  to  them  both  ;  and  so 
it  is  in  our  general  ideas,  whose  agreement  or  disagreement  may 
be  often  shown  by  the  intervention  of  some  other  ideas,  so  as  to 
produce  demonstrative  knowledge  ;  where  the  ideas  in  question 
cannot  be  brought  together,  and  immediately  compared,  so  as 
to  produce  intuitive  knowledge. 

The  understanding  doth  not  know  only  certain  truth ;  but 
also  judges  of  probability,  which  consists  in  the  likely  agree- 
ment or  disagreement  of  ideas. 

The  assenting  to  any  proposition  as  probable  is  called  opinion, 
or  belief. 

We  have  hitherto  considered  the  great  and  visible  parts  of 
the  universe,  and  those  great  masses  of  matter,  the  stars,  planets, 
and  particularly  this  our  earth,  together  with  the  inanimate  parts, 
and  animate  inhabitants  of  it ;  it  may  be  now  fit  to  consider 
what  these  sensible  bodies  are  made  of,  and  that  is  of  uncon- 
ceivably  small  bodies,  or  atoms,  out  of  whose  various  combina- 
tions bigger  moleculae  are  made  :  and  so,  by  a  greater  and 
greater  composition,  bigger  bodies  ;  and  out  of  these  the  whole 
material  world  is  constituted. 

By  the  figure,  bulk,  texture,  and  motion,  of  these  small  and 
insensible  corpuscles,  all  the  phenomena  of  bodies  may  be 
explained. 


\  NEW  METHOP 

OP  A 

COMMON-PLACE-BOOK. 

TRANSLATED  OUT  OF  THE  FRENCH, 
FROM  THE  SECOND  VOLUME  OF  THE  BIBI.IOTHEQUE  UNFVERSEM.E. 


I  ! 


V   NE1\   METHOD  OF  A  COMMOX-I'LACE-BOOK. 


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A  NEW  METHOD  OF  A  COMMON-PLACE-BOOK. 


345 


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346  A  NEW  METHOD  OP  A  COMMON-PLACE-BOOK. 


Epistola.]     A  Letter  from  Mr.  Locke  to  Mr.  Toignard, 
2.  containing  a  new  and  easy  Method  of  a  Common- 
place-book, to  which  an  Index  of  two  Pages  is  suffi- 
cient. 

At  length,  sir,  in  obedience  to  you,  I  publish 
my  "  method  of  a  common-place-book."  I  am 
ashamed  that  1  deferred  so  long  complying  with 
your  request ;  but  1  esteemed  it  so  mean  a  thing, 
as  not  to  deserve  publishing,  in  an  age  so  full  of 
useful  inventions  as  ours  is.  You  may  remem- 
ber, that  I  freely  communicated  it  to  you  and 
several  others,  to  whom  I  imagined  it  would  not 
be  unacceptable :  so  that  it  was  not  to  reserve 
the  sole  use  of  it  to  myself  that  I  declined  pub- 
lishing it.  But  the  regard  I  had  to  the  public 
discouraged  me  from  presenting  it  with  such  a 
trifle.  Yet  my  obligations  to  you,  and  the 
friendship  between  us,  compel  me  now  to  follow 
your  advice.  Your  last  letter  has  perfectly  de- 
termined me  to  it,  and  1  am  convinced  that  I 
ought  not  to  delay  publishing  it,  when  you  tell 
me,  that  an  experience  of  several  years  has 
showed  its  usefulness,  and  several  of  your  friends, 
to  whom  you  have  communicated  it.  There  is 
no  need  I  should  tell  you  how  useful  it  has  been 
to  me,  after  five-and-twenty  years'  experience, 
as  I  told  you  eight  years  since,  when  I  had  the 
honour  to  wait  on  you  at  Paris,  and  when  I 
might  have  been  instructed  by  your  learned  and 
agreeable  discourse.  What  I  aim  at  now,  by 
this  letter,  is  to  testify  publicly  the  esteem  and 
respect  I  have  for  you,  and  to  convince  you  how 
much  I  am,  sir,  your,  &c. 

Before  I  enter  on  my  subject  it  is  fit  to  ac- 
quaint the  reader,  that  this  Tract  is  disposed  in 
the  same  manner  that  the  Common-place-book 


A  NEW  METHOD  OP  A  CQMM0N-PLACE-B0OK.  M7 

S.  ought  to  be  disposed.  It  will  be  understood  by 
reading  what  follows,  what  is  the  meaning  of 
the  Latin  titles  on  the  top  of  the  backside  of 
eaeli  leaf,  and  at  the  bottom  [a  little  below  the 
top]  of  this  page. 
EiiioNiTiE.]  In  eorum  evangelio,  quod  secundum 
Hebraeos  dicebatur,  hi^toria  quae  habetur 
Matth.  xix.  16,  et  alia  qugedam,  erat  interpolata 
in  hunc  mouum  :  ''Dixit  ad  eum  alter  divitum, 
mngister,  quid  bonum  faciens  vivam  ?  Dixit  ei 
Dominus,  legem  et  prophets,  fac.  Respondit 
ad  eum,  feci.  Dixit  ei :  vade,  vende  omnia 
quae  possides  et  divide  pauperibus,  et  veni,  se- 
quere  me.  Coepit  autem  dives  scalpere  caput 
suum,  et  non  plaeuit  ei.  Et  dixit  ad  eum  Do- 
minus :  quomodo  dicis,  legem  feci  et  prophetas  ? 
ciim  scriptum  sit  in  lege,  diliges  proximumtuum 
sicut  teipsum  :  et  ecce  multi  fratres  tui  filii 
Abraham  amicti  sunt  stercore,  morientes  prre 
fame,  et  domus  tua  plena  est  bonis  multis,  et  non 
egreditur  omnino  aliquid  ex  ea.  ad  eos.  Et  con- 
versus,  dixit  Simoni,  discipulo  suo,  sedenti  apud 
se:  Simon,  fili  Johanna?,  facilius  est  camelum 
intrare  per  foramen  acus,  quam  divitein  in  reg- 
num  ccelorum."  Nimirum  haee  ideo  immutavit 
Ebion,  quia  Christum  nee  Dei  fili um,  nee  v^/r^v, 
sed  nudum  interpretem  legis  per  Mosem  data" 
agnoscebat. 

In  the  Gospel  of  the  Ebionites,  which  they 
called  the  Gospel  according  to  the  Hebrews, 
the  story,  that  is  in  the  xixth  of  St.  Matth. 
and  in  the  16th  and  following  verses,  was 
changed  after  this  manner  :  "  One  of  the  rich 
men  said  to  him  :  Master,  what  shall  I  do  that 
I  may  have  life  ?  Jesus  said  to  him  :  Obey  the 
law  and  the  prophets,  ile  answered,  I  have 
done  so.  Jesus  said  unto  him,  Go,  sell  what 
thou  hast,  divide  it  among  the  poor,  ami  (hen 
come    and   follow   me.     Upon   which   the  rich 


348  A  NEW  METHOD  OE  A  COMMON-PLACE-BOOK. 

Adversariorum  Methodus.]     I  take  a  paper  book  of 

4.  what  size  I  please.     1  divide  the  two  first  pages 

that  face  one  another  by  parallel  lines  into  five 

and  twenty  equal  parts,  every  fifth  line  black, 

the  other  red.     I  then  cut  them  perpendicularly 

by  other  lines  that  I  draw  from  the  top  to  the 

bottom  of  the  page,  as  you  may  see  in  the  table 

prefixed.     I  put  about  the  middle  of  each  five 

spaces  one  of  the  twenty  letters  I  design  to  make 

use  of,  and,  a  little  forward  in  each  space,  the  five 

vowels,   one   below   another,   in   their   natural 

order.     This  is  the  index  to  the  whole  volume. 

how  big  soever  it  may  be. 

The  index  being  made  after  this  manner,  I 
leave  a  margin  in  all  the  other  pages  of  the  book, 
of  about  the  largeness  of  an  inch,  in  a  volume  in 
folio,  or  a  little  larger ;  and,  in  a  less  volume, 
smaller  in  proportion. 

If  I  would  put  any  thing  in  my  Common- 
Place-Book,  I  find  out  a  head  to  which  I  may 
refer  it.  Each  head  ought  to  be  some  important 
and  essential  word  to  the  matter  in  hand,  and  in 
that  word  regard  is  to  be  had  to  the  first  letter, 
and  the  vowel  that  follows  it ;  for  upon  these 
two  letters  depends  all  the  use  of  the  index. 

I  omit  three  letters  of  the  alphabet  as  of  no 
use  to  me,  viz.  K  Y  W,  which  are  supplied  by 
C  I  U,  that  are  equivalent  to  them.  I  put  the 
Letter  Q,  that  is  always  followed  with  an  u,  in 
the  fifth  space  of  Z.  By  throwing  Q  last  in  my 
index,  I  preserve  the  regularity  of  my  index, 
and  diminish  not  in  the  least  its  extent ;  for  it 
seldom  happens  that  there  is  any  head  begins 
with  Z  u.  I  have  found  none  in  the  five- 
and-twcnty  years  I  have  used  this  method.  If 
nevertheless  it  be  necessary,  nothing  hinders  but 
that  one  may  make  a  reference  after  Q  u,  pro- 
vided it  be  done  with  any  kind  of  distinction  ; 
hut  for  more  exactness  a  place  may  be  assigned 


A  NEW  METHOD  OF  A  COMMON-PLACE-BOOK.  349 

5.  for  Q  u  below  the  index,  as  I  have  formerly 
done.  When  I  meet  with  any  thing,  that  I 
think  fit  to  put  into  my  common-piace-book,  I 
first  find  a  proper  head.  Suppose,  for  example, 
that  the  head  be  Epistola,  I  look  unto  the  index 
for  the  first  letter  and  the  following  vowel,  which 
in  this  instance  are  £  i,  if  in  the  space  marked 
E  i  there  is  any  number  that  directs  me  to  the 
page  designed  for  words  that  begin  with  an  E, 
and  whose  first  vowel,  after  the  initial  letter,  is 
1 ;  I  must  then  write  under  the  word  Epistola, 
in  that  page,  what  I  have  to  remark.  I  write 
the  head  in  large  letters,  and  begin  a  little  way 
out  into  the  margin,  and  I  continue  on  the  line, 
in  writing  what  I  have  to  say.  I  observe  con- 
stantly this  rule,  that  only  the  head  appears  in 
the  margin,  and  that  it  be  continued  on,  without 
ever  doubling  the  line  in  the  margin,  by  which 
means  the  heads  will  be  obvious  at  first  sight. 

If  I  find  no  number  in  the  index,  in  the  space 
E  i,  I  look  into  my  book  for  the  first  backside  of 
a  leaf  that  is  not  written  in,  which,  in  a  book 
where  there  is  yet  nothing  but  the  index,  must 
be  p.  2.  I  write  then,  in  my  index  after  E  i, 
the  number  2,  and  the  head  Epistola  at  the  top 
of  the  margin  of  the  second  page,  and  all  that  I 
put  under  that  head,  in  the  same  page,  as  you 
see  1  have  done  in  the  second  page  of  this  me- 
thod. From  that  time  the  class  E  i  is  wholly  in 
possession  of  the  second  and  third  pages. 

They  are  to  be  employed  only  on  words  that 
begin  with  an  E,  and  whose  nearest  vowel 
is  an  I,  as  Ebionitse  (see  the  third  page) 
Episcopus,  Echinus,  Edictum,  Erficacia,  &c. 
The  reason  why  I  begin  always  at  the  top  of  the 
backside  of  a  leaf,  and  assign  to  one  class  two 
pages,  that  face  one  another,  rather  than  an  en- 
tire leaf,  is,  because  the  heads  of  the  class  appear 
all  at  once,  without  the  trouble  of  turning  over 
a  leaf 

Every  time  that  I  would  write  a  new  head.  I 
V 

Vol.  II  15 


350  A  NEW  METHOD  OF  A  COMMON-PLACE-BOOK. 

Adversariorum  Methodus.]  look  first  in  my  index 
V.  for  the  characteristic  letters  of  the  words,  and  I 
6.  see,  by  the  number  that  follows,  what  the  page 
is  that  is  assigned  to  the  class  of  that  head.  If 
there  is  no  number,  I  must  look  for  the  first 
backside  of  a  page  that  is  blank.  I  then  set 
down  the  number  in  the  index,  and  design  that 
page,  with  that  of  the  right  bide  of  the  following 
leal",  to  this  new  class.  Let  it  be,  for  example, 
the  word  Adversaria;  if  I  see  no  number  in  the 
space  A  e,  I  seek  for  the  first  backside  of  a  leaf, 
which  being  at  p.  4,  I  set  down-inthe  space  A  e 
the  number  4,  and  in  the  fourth  page  the  bead 
Adversaria,  with  all  that  I  write  under  it,  as  I 
have  already  informed  you.  From  this  time  the 
iburth  page  with  the  fifth  that  follows  is  reserved 
for  the  class  A  e,  that  is  to  say,  for  the  heads 
that  begin  with  an  A,  and  whose  next  vowel  is 
an  E  ;  as  for  instance,  Aer,  Aera,  Agesilaus, 
Acheron,  &c. 

When  the  two  pages  designed  for  one  class 
are  full,  I  look  forwards  for  the  next  backside 
of  a  leaf,  that  is  blank.  If  it  be  that  which  im- 
mediately follows,  I  write  at  the  bottom  of  the 
margin,  in  the  page  that  IJiave  filled,  the  let- 
ter V,  that  is  to  say,  Verte,  turn  over ;  as  like- 
wise the  same  at  the  top  of  the  next  page.  If 
the  pages,  that  immediately  follow,  are  already 
filled  by  other  classes,  I  write,  at  the  bottom  of 
the  page  last  filled,  V.  and  the  number  of  the 
next  empty  backside  of  a  page.  At  the  begin- 
ning of  that  page  I  write  down  the  head,  under 
which  I  go  on,  with  what  I  had  to  put  in  my 
common-place-book,  as  if  it  had  been  in  the 
same  page.  At  the  top  of  this  new  backside 
of  a  leaf,  1  set  down  the  number  of  the  page  I 
filled  last.  By  these  numbers  which  refer  to 
one  another,  the  first  whereof  is  at  the  bottom 
of  one  page,  and  the  second  is  at  the  beginning 
of  another,  one  joins  matter  that  is  separated. 


V  NEW  METHOD  OP   a  COMMON-PLACE-BOOK.  :J51 

7.  as  if  there  was  nothing  between  them.  For, 
by  this  reciprocal  reference  of  numbers,  one 
may  turn,  as  one  leaf,  all  those  that  arc  between 
the  two,  even  as  if  they  were  pasted  together. 
You  have  an  example  of  this  in  the  third  and 
tenth  pages. 

Every  time  I  put  a  number  at  the  bottom  of  a 
page.  1  put  it  also  into  the  index;  but  when  I 
put  only  a  V,  I  make  no  addition  in  the  index; 
the  reason  whereof  is  plain. 

If  the  head  is  a  monosyllable,  and  begins  with 
a  vowel,  that  vowel  is  at  the  same  time  both  the 
first  letter  of  the  word,  and  the  characteristic 
vowel.  Therefore  I  write  the  word  Ars  in  A  a, 
and  Os  in  O  o. 

You  may  see  by  what  I  have  said,  that  one  is 
to  begin  to  write  each  class  of  words  on  the  back- 
side of  a  page.  It  may  happen,  upon  that  ac- 
count, that  the  backside  of  all  the  pages  may  be 
full,  and  yet  there  may  remain  several  pages,  on 
the  right  hand,  which  are  empty.  Now  if  you 
have  a  mind  to  fill  your  book,  you  may  assign 
these  right  sides,  which  are  wholly  blank,  to  new 
classes. 

If  any  one  imagines  that  these  hundred 
classes  are  notfsufficient  to  comprehend  all  sorts 
of  subjects  without  confusion,  he  may  follow  the 
same  method,  and  yet  augment  the  number  to 
five  hundred,  in  adding  a  vowel.  But  having 
experienced  both  the  one  and  the  other  method, 
I  prefer  the  first;  and  usage  will  convince  those, 
who  shall  try  it,  how  well  it  will  serve  the  pur 
pose  aimed  at ;  especially  if  one  has  a  book  for 
each  science,  upon  which  one  makes  collections, 
or  at  least  two  fir  the  two  heads,  to  which  one 
may  refer  all  our  knowledge,  viz.  moral  philoso- 
phy, and  natural. 

You  may  add  a  third,  which  may  be  called 
the  knowledge  of  signs,  which  relates  to  the  use 
of  words,  and  is  of  much  more  extent  than  mere 
criticism. 

V 


35%  A  NEW    METHOD  OF  A  COMMON-PL.ACE-BOOK. 

Adversariorum  Met-hodus.]  As  to  the  language,  in 
V.  which  one  ought  to  express  the  heads,  I  esteem 
8.  the  Latin  tongue  most  commodious,  provided 
the  nominative  case  be  always  kept  to,  for  fear 
lest  in  words  of  two  syllables,  or  in  monosylla- 
bles that  begin  with  the  vowel,  the  change,  which 
happens  in  oblique  cases,  should  occasion  con- 
fusion. But  it  is  not  of  much  consequence  what 
language  is  made  use  of,  provided  there  be  no 
mixture  in  the  heads  of  different  languages. 

To  take  notice  of  a  place  in  an  author,  from 
whom  I  quote  something,  I  make  use  of  this 
method  :  before  I  write  any  thing,  I  put  the 
name  of  the  author  in  my  common-place-book, 
and  under  that  name  the  title  of  the  treatise, 
the  size  of  the  volume,  the  time  and  place  of  its 
edition,  and  (what  ought  never  to  be  omitted) 
the  number  of  pages  that  the  whole  book  con- 
tains. For  example,  I  put  into  the  class  M  a, 
"  Marshami  Canon  Chronicus  iEgyptiacus. 
Graecus,  et  disquisitiones,  fol."  London,  1672, 
p.  626.  This  number  of  pages  serves  me  for 
the  future  to  mark  the  particular  treatise  of 
this  author,  and  the  edition  I  make  use  of.  I 
have  no  need  to  mark  the  place,  otherwise  than 
in  setting  down  the  number  of  the  page  from 
whence  I  have  drawn  what  I  have  wrote,  just 
above  the  number  of  pages  contained  in  the 
whole  volume.  You  will  see  an  example  in 
Acherusia,  where  the  number  259  is  just  above 
the  number  626,  that  is  to  say,  the  number  of 
the  page,  where  I  take  my  matter,  is  just  above 
the  number  of  pages  of  the  whole  volume.  By 
this  means  I  not  only  save  myself  the  trouble 
of  writing  Canon  Chronicus  iEgyptiacus,  &c. 
but  am  able  by  the  rule  of  three  to  find  out  the 
same  passage  in  any  other  edition,  by  looking 
for  the  number  of  its  pages ;  since  the  edition 
1  have  used,  which  contains  626,  gives  me  2<ri9 


A  NEW  METHOD  OP  A  COMMON-PLACE-BOOR.  353 

9.  You  will  not  indeed  always  light  on  the  very 
page  you  want,  because  of  the  breaches,  that  arc 
made  in  different  editions  of  books,  and  that  are 
not  always  equal  in  proportion  ;  but  you  are 
never  very  far  horn  the  place  you  want ;  and  it 
is  better  to  be  able  to  find  a  passage,  in  turning 
over  a  few  pages,  than  to  be  obliged  to  turn 
over  a  whole  book  to  find  it,  as  it  happens  when 
the  book  has  no  index,  or  when  the  index  is  not 
exact. 
Acheron.]  "  Pratum,  ficta  mortuorum  habifatio,  est 
locus  prope  Metnphin,  juxta  paludem,  quam 
vocant  Acherusiam,"  &c.  This  is  a  passage  out 
of  D.  Siculus,  the  sense  whereof  is  this :  the 
fields,  where  they  feign  that  the  dead  inhabit, 
are  only  a  place  near  Memphis,  near  a  marsh 
called  Acherusia,  about  which  is  a  most  delight- 
ful country,  where  one  may  behold  Jakes  and 
forests  of  lotus  and  calamus.  It  is  with  reason 
that  Orpheus  said,  the  dead  inhabit  these  places, 
because  there  the  Egyptians  celebrate  the  great- 
est part,  and  the  most  august,  of  their  funeral 
solemnities.  They  carry  the  dead  over  the  Nile, 
and  through  the  marsh  of  Acherusia,  and  there 
put  them  into  subterraneous  vaults.  There  are 
a  great  many  other  fables,  among  the  Greeks, 
touching  the  state  of  the  dead,  which  very  well 
agree  with  what  is  at  this  day  practised  in  Egypt. 
For  they  call  the  boat,  in  which  the  dead  are 
transported,  Baris  ;  and  a  certain  piece  of  money 
is  given  to  the  ferryman  for  a  passage,  who,  in 
their  language,  is  called  Charon.  Near  this 
place  is  a  temple  of  Hecate  in  the  shades,  &c. 
and  the  gates  of  Cocytus  and  Lethe,  shut  up 
with  bars  of  brass.  There  are  other  gates, 
-which  are  called  the  gates  of  truth,  with  the 
statue  of  justice  before  them,  which  has  no  head. 
Marsham.     ill 


354  A  NEW  METHOD  OF  A  COMMON-PLACE-BOOK. 

Ebionit^;.]  man  began  to  scratch  his  head,  and  to  dis- 
V.  3.  like  the  advice  of  Jesus:  and  the  Lord  said  unto 
10.  him,  How  can  you  say  you  have  done  as  the  law 
and  the  prophets  direct  you  ?  since  it  is  written 
in  the  law,  Thou  shah  love  thy  neighbour  as 
thyself;  and  there  are  many  of  thy  brethren, 
children  of  Abraham,  who  are  almost  naked, 
and  who  are  ready  to  die  with  hunger,  while  thy 
house  is  full  of  good  things,  and  yet  thou  givest 
them  no  help  nor  assistance  And  turning  him- 
self towards  Simon,  his  disciple,  who  sat  near 
him  :  Simon,  son  of  Johanna,  said  he,  it  is  easier 
for  a  camel  to  go  through  the  eye  of  a  needle,, 
than  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven."  Ebion  changed  this  passage,  be- 
cause he  did  not  believe  Jesus  Christ  to  he  the 
Son  of  God,  nor  a  lawgiver,  but  a  mere  inter- 
preter of  the  law  of  Moses.    Grotius    T3/?V 


A  NEW  METHOD  Oh'  A  COMMON-PLACE-BOOK.  355 

11. 


356  A  NEW  METHOD  OF  A  COMMON-PLACE-BOOK. 

H^retici.]  "  Nostrum  igitur  fuit,  eligere  et  optare  me- 
12.  iiora,  ut  ad  vest  ram  correctionem  auditum  habe- 
remus,  non  in  contentione  et  aemulatione  et  per- 
secutionibus,  sed  mansuete  consolando,  benevole 
hortando,  leniter  disputando,  sicut  scriptum  est, 
servum  autem  Domini  non  oportet  litigare,  sed 
mitem  esse  ad  omnes,  docibilem,  patientem,  in 
modestia  corripientem  diversa  sentientes.  Nos- 
trum ergo  fuit  velle  has  partes  expetere:  Dei  est 
volentibus  et  petentibus  donare  quod  bonum  est. 
Illi  in  vos  saeviant,  qui  nesciunt  cum  quo  labore 
verum  inveniatur,  et  quam  difficile  caveantur 
errores.  Illi  in  vos  saeviant,  qui  nesciunt  quam 
rarum  et  arduum  sit  carnalia  phantasmata  piae 
mentis  serenitate  superare.  Illi  in  vos  saeviant, 
qui  nesciunt  cum  quanta  difficultate  sanetur 
oculus  interioris  hominis,  ut  possit  intueri  solem 
suutn.  Illi  in  vos  saeviant,  qui  nesciunt  quibus 
suspiriis  et  gemitibus  fiat,  ut  ex  quantulacunque 
parte  possit  intelligi  Deus.  Postremo,  illi  in  vos 
saeviant,  qui  nullo  tali  errore  decepti  sunt,  quali 
vos  deceptos  vident.  In  catholica  enim  eccle-sa, 
ut  omittam  sincerissimam  sapientiam,  ad  cujus 
cognitionem  pauci  spirituales  in  hac  vita  perve- 
niunt,  ut  earn  ex  minima  quidem  parte,  quia 
homines  sunt,  sed  tamen  sine  dubitatione,  cog- 
noscant :  ceeterum  quippe  turbam  non  intelligen- 
di  vivacitas,  sed  credendi  simplicitas  tutissimam 
faciat/'  Augustinus,  Tom.  vi.  col.  116.  fol. 
Basilice  1542,  contra  Epist.  Manichaei,  quam  vo- 
cant  fundamenti. 

"  We  were  of  opinion,  that  other  methods  were 
to  be  made  choice  of,  and  that,  to  recover  you 
from  your  errors,  we  ought  not  to  persecute  you 
with  injuries  and  invectives,  or  any  ill  treatment, 
but  endeavour  to  procure  your  attention,  by  soft 
words  and  exhortations,  which  would  show  the 
tenderness  we  have  for  you :  according  to  that 


A  SEW   METHOD  OF  A  COMMO^-PLACE-BOOK.  '.IS', 

13.  passage  of  holy  writ,  '  the  servant  of  the  Lord 
ought  not  to  love  strife  and  quarrels,  but  to  be 
gentle,  affable,  and  patient  towards  all  mankind, 
and  to  reprove  with  modesty  those  who  differ 
from  him  in  opinion.' — Let  them  only  treat  you 
with  rigour,  who  know  not  how  difficult  it  is  to 
find  out  the  truth,  and  avoid  error.      Let  those 
treat  you  with  rigour,  who  are  ignorant  how  rare 
and  painful  a  work  it  is  calmly  to  dissipate  the 
carnal  phantoms,  that  disturb  even  a  pious  mind. 
Let  those  treat  you  with  rigour,  who  are  ignorant 
of  the  extreme   difficulty  that  there  is  to  purify 
the  eye  of  the  inward  man,  to  render  him  capa- 
ble of  seeing  the  truth,  which  is  the  sun,  or  light 
of  the  soul.     Let  those  treat  you  with  rigour, 
who  have  never  felt  the  sighs  and  groans  that  a 
soul  must  have  before  it  can  obtain  any  know- 
ledge of  the    Divine  Being.     To  conclude,  let 
those  treat  you  with  rigour  who  never  have  been 
seduced  into  errors,  near  akin  to  those  you  are 
engaged  in.     I  pass  over  in  silence  that  pure 
wisdom,  which  but  a  few  spiritual  men  attain  to 
in  this  life  ;  so  that  though  they  know  but  in  part, 
because  they  are  men ;    yet   nevertheless  they 
know  w  hat  they  do  know  with  certainty :  for, 
in  the  catholic  church,  it  is  not  penetration  of 
mind,  nor  profound  knowledge,  but  simplicity  of 
faith,  which  puts  men  in  a  state  of  safety. 

"  Barbari  quippe  homines,  Romanae,  itno  po- 
tius  humaine  eruditionis  expertes,  qui  nihil 
omnino  sciunt,  nisi  quod  a  doctoribus  suis 
audiunt:  quod  audiunt  hoc  sequuntur,  ac  sic 
necesse  est  eos  qui  totius  literaturae  ac  scientiae 
iguari,  sacramentum  divinac  legis  doctrina, 
magis  quam  lectione,  cognoscunt,  doctrinam 
potius  retinere,  quam  legem.  Itaque  eis  tra- 
ditio  magistrorum  suorurn  et  doctrina  invete^- 


Vol.  II  4U 


358  A  NEW  METHOD  OP  A  COMMON  PLACE-BOOK. 

Confessfo  Fidel]  "  Periculosum  nobis  admodum  at- 
14.  que  etiam  iniserabile  est,  tot  nunc  fides  existere. 
quot  voluntatis:  et  tot  nobis  doctrinas  esse, 
quot  mores ;  et  tot  causas  blasphemiarum  puJlu- 
lare,  quot  vitia  sunt :  dum  aut  ita  fides  scribun- 
tur,  ut  volumus,  aut,  ita  ut  volumus,  intelligun- 
tur.  Et  cum  secundum  unum  Deum  et  unum 
Dominum,  et  unum  baptisma,  etiam  fides  una 
sit,  excidimus  ab  ea  fide,  quae  sola  est :  et  dum 
plures  fiant,  id  esse  cceperunt,  ne  ulla  sit :  conscii 
enim  nobis  invicem  sumus,  post  Nicaeni  conven- 
tus  synodum,  nihil  aliud  quam  fidem  scribi. 
Dum  in  verbis  pugna  est,  dum  de  novitatibus 
quaestio  est,  dum  de  ambiguis  occasio  est, 
dum  de  auctoribus  querela  est,  dum  de  studiis 
certamen  est,  dum  in  consensu  dififieultas  est, 
dum  alter  alteri  anathema  esse  ccepit,  prope 
jam  nemo  est  Christi,  &c.  Jam  vero  proxi- 
mi  anni  fides,  quid  jam  de  immutatione  in 
se  habet  ?  Primum,  quae  homousion  decernit 
taceri :  sequens  rursum,  quae  homousion  decer- 
nit et  prsedicat.  Tertium  deinceps,  quae  ousiam 
simpliciter  a  patribuspraesumptam,  per  indulgen- 
tiam  excusat.  Postremum  quartum,  quae  non 
excusat,  sed  condemnat,  &c.  De  similitudine 
autem  Filii  Dei  ad  Deum  Patrem,  quod  misera- 
bilis  nostri  temporis  est  fides,  ne  non  ex  toto,  sed 
tantum  ex  portione  sit  similis.  Egregii  scilicet 
arbitri  coelestium  sacramentorum  conquisitores, 
invisibilium  mysteriorum  professionibus  de  fide 
Dei  calumniamur,  annuas  atque  menstruas  de 
Deo  fides  decernimus,  decretis  poenitemus,  pceni- 
tentes  defendimus,  defensos  anathematizamus, 
aut  in  nostri  aliena  aut  in  alienis  nostra  damna- 
mus,  etmordentes  invicem,  jam  absumpti  sumus 
invicem."  Hilarius,  p.  211.  in  lib.  ad  Constan- 
tium  Augustum.     Basil.  1550,  fol. 

"  It  is  a  thing  equally  deplorable  and  dan- 


A  NEW  METHOD  OF  A  COMMON-PLACE-BOOK  359 

15.  gerous,  that  there  are  at  present  as  many  creeds 
as  there  are  opinions  among  men,  as  many  doc- 
trines as  inclinations ;  and  as  many  sources  of 
blasphemy,  as  there  are  faults  among  us  ;  because 
we  make  creeds  arbitrarily,  and  explain  them  as 
arbitrarily.  And  as  there  is  but  one  faith ;  so 
there  is  but  one  only  God,  one  Lord,  and  one 
baptism.  We  renounce  this  one  faith,  when  we 
make  so  many  different  creeds ;  and  that  diversity 
is  the  reason  why  we  have  no  true  faith  among 
us.  We  cannot  be  ignorant  that,  since  the  coun- 
cil of  Nice,  we  have  done  nothing  but  made 
creeds.  And  while  we  fight  against  words,  liti- 
gate about  new  questions,  dispute  about  equivo- 
cal terms,  complain  of  authors,  that  every  one  may 
make  his  own  party  triumph ;  while  we  cannot 
agree,  while  we  anathematize  one  another,  there 
is  hardly  one  that  adheres  to  Jesus  Christ.  What 
change  was  there  not  in  the  creed  last  year ! 
The  first  council  ordained  a  silence  upon  the 
homousion;  the  second  established  it,  and  would 
have  us  speak ;  the  third  excuses  the  fathers  of 
the  council,  and  pretends  they  took  the  word 
ousia  simply ;  the  fourth  condemns  them,  instead 
of  excusing  them.  With  respect  to  the  likeness 
of  the  Son  of  God  to  the  Father,  w  hich  is  the 
faith  of  our  deplorable  times,  they  dispute  whe- 
ther he  is  like  in  whole,  or  in  part.  These  are 
folks  to  unravel  the  secrets  of  heaven.  Never- 
theless it  is  for  these  creeds,  about  invisible  mys- 
teries, that  we  calumniate  one  another,  and  for 
our  belief  in  God.  We  make  creeds  every  year, 
nay  every  moon  we  repent  of  what  we  have  done, 
we  defend  those  that  repent,  we  anathematize 
those  we  defended.  So  we  condemn  either  the 
doctrine  of  others  in  ourselves,  or  our  own  in 
that  of  others,  and,  reciprocally  tearing  one  an- 
other to  pieces,  we  have  been  the  cause  of  each 
other's  ruin." 


360  A  NEW  METHOD  OP  A  COMMON-PLACE-BOOK. 

Hjeretici.]  rata,  quasi  lex  est,  qui  hoc  sciunt,  quod  do- 
V.  13.  centur.     Haeretici  ergo  sunt,  sed  non  scientes. 
16.  Denique   apud  nos  sunt  haeretici,  apud  se  non 
sunt.    Nam  in  tantum  se  catholicos  esse  judicant, 
ut  nos  ipsos  titulo  haereticae  appellationis  infa- 
ment.     Quod  ergo  illi  nobis  sunt  et  hoc  nos  illis. 
Nos  eos  injuriam  divinse  generationi  facerecerti 
sum  us,  quod  minorem  Patre  Filium  dicant.    Illi 
nosinjuriosos  Patri  existimant,  quia  aequales  esse 
eredamus.     Veritas  apud  nos  est ;  sed  illi  apud  se 
esse  praesumunt.    Honor  Dei  apud  nos  est :  sed  illi 
hoe  arbitrantur,  honorem  divinitatis  esse  quod  cre- 
dunt.     Inofficiosi  sunt,  sed  illis  hoc  est  summum 
religionis  officium.     Impii  sunt,   sed  hoc  putant 
esse  veram  pietatem.     Errant  ergo,  sed  bono 
animo  errant,  non  odio  sed  affectu  Dei,  honorare 
se  Dominum  atque  amare  credentes.     Quamvis 
non  habeant  rectam  fidem,  illi  tamen  hoc  per- 
fectam  Dei  sestimant  caritatem.     Qualiter  pro 
hoc  ipso  falsae  opinionis  errore  in  die  judicii 
puniendi   sunt,  nullus  scire  potest  nisi   Judex. 
Interim   idcirco  eis,   ut  reor,  patientiam  Deus 
commodat,  quia  videt  eos,  etsi  non  recte  credere, 
affectu   tamen  pise   opinionis   errare."     Salvi- 
nus.     ^ff. 

This  bishop  speaks  here  of  the  Arian  Goths 
and  Vandals :  '*  They  are,"  says  he,  "  Barbarians, 
who  have  no  tincture  of  the  Roman  politeness, 
and  who  are  ignorant  of  what  is  very  commonly 
known  among  other  men,  and  only  know  what 
their  doctors  have  taught  them,  and  follow  what 
they  have  heard  them  say.  Men  so  ignorant  as 
these  find  themselves  under  a  necessity  of  learn- 
ing the  mysteries  of  the  gospel,  rather  bv  the  in- 
structions that  are  given  them,  than  by  books. 

"  The  tradition  of  their  doctors  and  the  re- 
ceived doetrines  are  the  only  rule  they  follow, 
because  they  know  nothing  but  what  they 
have  taught  them.      They  are  then  heretics, 


A  NEW  METHOD  OP  A  COMMON-PLACE-BOOK.  361 

17.  but  they  know  it  not.  They  are  so  in  our  ac- 
count, but  they  believe  it  not ;  and  think  them- 
selves so  good  catholics,  that  they  treat  us  as 
heretics,  judging  of  us  as  we  do  of  them.  We 
are  persuaded  that  they  believe  amiss  concern- 
ing the  divine  generation,  when  they  maintain 
the  Son  is  inferior  to  the  F  ather ;  and  they  ima- 
gine that  we  rob  the  Father  of  his  glory  who 
believe  them  both  to  be  equal.  We  have  the 
truth  on  our  side,  and  they  pretend  it  is  on  theirs. 
We  give  to  God  his  due  honour,  and  they  think 
they  honour  him  better.  They  fail  in  their  duty, 
but  they  imagine  they  perform  perfectly  well  ; 
and  they  make  true  piety  to  consist  in  what  we 
call  impious.  They  are  in  a  mistake,  but  with  a 
great  deal  of  sincerity  ;  and  it  is  so  far  from  be- 
ing an  effect  of  their  hatred,  that  it  is  a  mark  of 
their  love  of  God,  since,  by  what  they  do,  they 
imagine  they  show  the  greatest  respect  for  the 
Lord,  and  zeal  for  his  glory.  Therefore,  though 
they  have  not  true  faith,  they  nevertheless  look 
upon  that  which  they  have  as  a  perfect  love  of 
God.  It  belongs  only  to  the  Judge  of  the  uni- 
verse to  know  how  these  men  will  be  punished 
for  their  errors  at  the  last  day.  Yet  I  believe 
God  will  show  compassion  towards  them,  be- 
cause he  sees  their  heart  is  more  right  than  their 
belief,  and  that,  if  they  are  mistaken,  it  is  their 
piety  made  them  err." 


INDEX 


ESSAY  CONCERNING  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 


The  folumes  are  distinguished  by  the  Roman  Numerals  i,  ii,  preceding 
the  Number  of  the  Page,  and  those  Figures  which  follow  (  refer  to  the 
Section. 


Abbot  of  St.  Martin,  vol.  i.  page  423, 

(  26. 
Abstraction,  i.  156,  (  9. 
Puts  a  perfect  distance  betwixt  men 

and  brutes,  i.  156,  (  10. 
What,  i.  155,  (  9. 
How,  i.  158,  (  1. 
Abstract  ideas,  why  made,  i.  360,  (  6, 
7,8. 

terms  cannot  be  affirmed  one  of 

another,  ii.  11,  $  I. 
Accident,  i.  266,  {  2. 

Actions,    the  best   evidence    of  men's 
principles,  i.  78,  (  7. 
But  two  sorts  of  actions,  i.  219,  (  4 ;  i. 

263,  (11. 
Unpleasant    may  be  made  pleasant, 

and  how,  i.  253,  }  69. 
Cannot  be  the  same  in  different  places, 

i.  297,  (  2. 
Considered  as  modes,  or  as  moral,  i. 
337, }  15. 
Adequate  ideas,  i.  350,  (1,2. 

We  have  not  of  any  species  of  sub- 
stances, ii.  101,  (  26. 
Affirmations  are  only  in  concrete,  ii.  12, 

Agreement    and   disagreement    of    our 

ideas  fourfold,  ii.  55 — 59,  (  3,  4,  5, 

6,7. 
Algebra,  ii.  177,}  15. 
Alteration,  i.  294,  (  2. 
Analogy,  useful  in  natural  philosophy, 

ii.  191.  J  12. 
Anger,  i.  216,  j  12,14. 
Antipathy  and    sympathy,    whence,    i. 

369, (  7. 
Arguments  of  four  sorts, 

1 .  Ad  verecundiam,  ii.  208,  (  19. 

2.  Ad  ignorantiam,  ib.  (  20. 

3.  Ad  hominem,  ib.  h  21. 

4.  Ad  judicium,  ib.  (  22.    This  alone 
right,  ib.  5  22. 

Arithmetic :  the  use  of  ciphers  iu  arith- 
metic, ii.  92,  {  19. 


Artificial  things  arc  most  of  them  collec- 
tive ideas,  i.  288,  (  3. 
Why  we  are  less  liable  to  confusion, 
about  artificial  things,  than  about 
natural,  i.  431,  (40. 
Have  distinct  species,  i.  431,  {  41. 
Assent  to  maxims,  i.  63,  (  10. 

Upon  hearing  and  understanding  the 

terms,  i.  67,  }  17,  18. 
Assent,  a  mark  of  self-evidence,  i.  67, 

(  18. 
Not  of  innate,  i.  68, (  18  :  i.  69,  (  19, 
20  :  i.  101,  (  19. 
Assent  to  probability,  ii.  182,  (  3. 

Ought    to    be    proportioned    to    the 
proofs,  ii.  225,  (  1. 
Association  of  ideas,  i.  867,  (  1,  &c. 
This  association  how  made,   i.  369, 

$6. 
Ill  effects  of  it,  as  to  antipathies,  i. 

369,  (  7,  8  :  i.  372, (  15. 
And   this  in  sects  of  philosophy  and 

religion,  i.  375,  (  18. 
Its  ill  influences  as  to  intellectual  ha- 
bits, i.372,{  17. 
Assurance,  ii   187,(6. 
Atheism  in  the  world,  i.  93,  (  8. 
Atom,  what,  i.  298,  (  3. 
Authority  ;  relying  on  others'  opinions, 
one  great  cause  of  error,  ii.  23-4. 
(17. 


B. 


Beings,  but  two  sorts,  ii.  155,  (  9. 

The  eternal  Being  must  be  cogitative, 
ib.  (  10. 
Belief,  what,  ii.  182,(3. 

To  believe  without  reason,  is  against 
our  duty,  ii.  209,  (  24. 
Best  in  our  opinion,  not  a  rule  of  God's 

actions,  i.  97,  (  12. 
Blind  man,  if  made  to  see,  would  not 
know  which  a  globe,  which  a  cube, 
by  his  sight,  though  he  knew  them 
by  bis  touch,  i.  144.  {  f 


364 


INDEX. 


Blood,  how  it  appears  in  a  microscope,  i. 

274,  §  11. 
Brutes  have  no  universal  ideas,  i;  155, 
$  10,11. 
Abstract  not,  ib.  5  10. 
Body.     We  have  no  more  primary  ideas 

of  body  than  of  spirit,  i.  278,  $  16. 
The  primary  ideas  of  body,  ib.  5  17. 
The  extension  or  cohesion  of  body,  as 

hard  to  be  understood,  as  the  think- 
ing of  spirit,  i.  80—82,  $  23,  24,  25, 

26,  27. 
Moving  of  body  by  body,  as  hard  to 

be  conceived   as  by  spirit,  i.  282, 

{28. 
Operates  only  by  impulse,  i.  135,  5 

11. 
What,i.  165,5  11. 
The    author's  notion  of  his  body,  2 

Cor.  ver.  10,  i.  316,  and  of  his  own 

body,    1   Cor.  xv.  35,  &c.  i.  318. 

The  meaning  of  the  same  body,  i. 

314.     Whether  the  word  body  be  a 

simple    or   complex    term,   i.  317. 

This  only  a  controversy  about  the 

sense  of  a  word,  i.  323. 
But,  its   several    significations,  ii.    10, 

6  5. 


Capacity,  i.  161,  $  3. 
Capacities,  to  know  their  extent,  useful, 
i.  52,  $  4. 
To  cure  skepticism  and  idleness,  i.  54, 

$6. 
Are  suited  to  our  present  state,  i.  53, 
§5. 
Cause,  i.  293, 5  1- 

And  effect,  ib. 
Certainty  depends  on  intuition,  ii.  62, 
81. 
Wherein  it  consists,  ii.  114,  $  18. 
Oftruth,ii.  115. 

To  be  had  in  very  few  general  propo- 
sitions concerning   substances,    ii. 
127,  h  13. 
Where  to  be  had,  ii.  129,  j  16. 
Verbal,  ii.  118,  {  8. 
Real,  ib. 

Sensible  knowledge,  the  utmost  cer- 
tainty we  have  of  existence,  ii.  162, 
$  2. 
The  author's  notion  of  it  not  dange- 
rous, ii.  64,  &c 
How  it  differs  from  assurance,  ii.  187, 
J  6. 
Changelings,  whether  men  or  no,  ii.  1 1 1 , 

$  13, 14. 
Clearness    alone   hinders  confusion  of 

ideas,  i.  153,  §  3. 
Clear  and  obscure  ideas,  i.  340,  $  2. 
Colours,  modes  of  colours,  i.  209,  §4. 


Comments  upon  law,  why  infinite,  u. 

17,  $  9. 
Complex  ideas  how  made,  i.  154, }  6. 
i.  158,  $1. 
In  these  the  mind  is  more  than  pas- 
sive, i.  159,  5  2. 
Ideas  reducible  to  modes,  substances, 
and  relations,  ib.  $3. 
Comparing  ideas,  i.  153,  {4. 

Herein  men  excel  brutes,  ib.  }5. 
Compounding  ideas,  i.  154, }  6. 
In  this  is  a  great  difference  between 
men  and  brutes,  ib.  j7. 
Compulsion,  i.  223,  j  13. 
Confidence,  ii.  188.  $  7. 
Confusion  of  ideas,  wherein  it  consists, 
i.  341,  342,  *  5,6,7. 
Causes  of  confusion  in  ideas,  i.  342. 

343,5  7,8,9:  i.  344,5  12. 
Of  ideas,  grounded  on  a  reference  to 

names,  i.  343,  344,  5  10, 11,  12. 
Its  remedy,  i.  344, 5  12. 
Confused  ideas,  i.  341, 5  4. 
Conscience  is  our  own  opinion  of  our 

own  actions,  i.  78.  58. 
Consciousness  makes  the  same  person, 
i.  303,  5  10  :  i.  307, 5  16. 
Probably  annexed  to  the  same  indi- 
vidual,   immaterial    substance,  i. 
311, 5  25. 
Necessary  to  thinking,  i.  112,  6.  10, 

11:  i.  117,5  19- 
What,  ib.  J  19. 
Contemplation,  i.  147,  {  1. 
Creation,  i.  294, 5  2. 
Not  to  be  denied,  because  we  cannot 
conceive  the  manner  how,  ii.  161, 
$  19. 

D. 

Definition,  why  the  genus  is  used  in 

definitions,  i,  384,  5  10. 
Defining  of  terms  would  cut  off  a  great 

part  of  disputes,  ii.  32, 5  15. 
Demonstration,  ii.  63, 5  3. 
Not  so  clear  as  intuitive  knowledge, 

ii.  63,5  4:ii.  64,  5  6,7. 
Intuitive  knowledge  necessary  in  each 

step  of  a  demonstration,  ii.  64,  5  7. 
Not  limited  to  quantity,  ii.  65,  {  9. 
Why    that  has  been  supposed,  ib. 

5 10. 
Not  to  be  expected  in  all  cases,  ii. 

166,  §  10. 
What,  ii.  181,  §  1:  ii.  206,  §15. 
Desire,  i.  215,  §  6. 
Is  a  state  of  uneasiness,  i.  231,  §  31, 

32. 
Is  moved  only  by  happiness,  i.  236. 

§41. 
How  far,  i.  237,  §43. 
How  to  be  raised,  i.  239, 46- 


ISDK\. 


Mb 


Misled  by  wrong  judgment,  i.  247, 
§  60. 
Dictionaries,  how  to  be  made,  ii.  61,52, 

§  25. 
Discerning,  i.  152,  §  1. 

The  foundation  df  some  general  dikx- 
ims,  i.  152,  §  1. 
Discourse  cannot  be  between  two  men, 
who  have  different  names  for  the 
same  idea,  or  different  ideas  for  the 
sume  name,  i.  127,  §  5. 
Despair,  i.  216,  $  11. 
Disposition,  i.  263,  §  10. 
Disputing.     The  art  of  disputing  preju- 
dicial to  knowledge,  ii.  28,  29,  §  6, 
7,  8, 9. 
Destroys  the  u=e  of  language,  ii.  29, 
$  10. 
Disputes,  whence,  i.  172,  §  28. 
Disputes,  multiplicity  of  them  owing 
to  the  abuse  of  words,  ii.  36,  §  22. 
Are  most  about  the  signification  of 
words,  ii.  43,  §  7. 
Distance,  i.  161,  §  3. 
Distinct  ideas,  i.  341,  §  4. 
Divisibility  of  matter  incomprehensi- 
ble, i.  284,  §  31. 
Dreaming,  i.  211,  §  I. 

Seldom  in  some  men,  i.  114,  §  14. 
Dreams  for  the  most  part  irrational,  i. 
115,  §16. 
In  dreams  no  ideas  but  of  sensation, 
or  reflection,  i.  115, 1 16,  §  17. 
Duration,  i.  173,  §1,2. 

Whence  we  get  the  idea  of  duration, 

i.  173,  174,§3,  4,  5. 
Not  from  motion,  i.  178,  §  16. 
Its  measure,  ib.  §  17,  18. 
Any  regular  periodical  appearance,  i. 

179,  §  19,  20. 
None  of  its  measures  known  to  be 

exact,  i.  180,  §  21. 
We  only  guess  them  equal  by  the 

train  of  our  ideas,  ib.  §  21. 
Minutes,  days,  years,  &c.  not  neces- 
sary to  duration,  i.  182,  §  23. 
Change  of  the  measures  of  duration, 
change  not  the  notion  of  it,  ib.  23. 
The  measures  of  duration,  as  the  re- 
volutions of  the  sun,  may  be  applied 
to  duration  before  the  sun  existed, 
i.  182— 1154,  §24,25,28. 
Duration  without  beginning,  i.  133, 

§26. 
How  we  measure  duration,  i.  183, 

184,  §27,  28,  29. 
Recapitulation,  concerning  our  ideas 

of  duration,  time,  and  eternity,  i. 

185,  §31. 

Duration  and   expansion  compared,  i. 

186,  §1. 

They  mutually  embrace  each  other, 

i.  192,  §12. 
Considered  as  alin*1,  i.  192,  §11, 

vnt.   II  46 


Duration  not  conceivable  by  us  with- 
out succession,  i.  192,  §  12. 


E 


Extasy,  i.  2l!,{  1. 

Education,  partly  the  cause  of  uurtu 

sonableness,  i.  368,  §  3. 
Effect,  i.  293,  §  1. 
Enthusiasm,  ii.  217. 

Described,  ii.  219,  §  6,  7. 

Its  rise,  ii.  218,  §  5. 

Ground  of  persuasion  ttTUst  be  exu 

mined,  and  how,  ii.  220,  §  10. 
Firmness  of  it,  no  sufficient  proof,  ii. 

222,  §  12,  13. 
Fails  of  the  evideuce  it  pretends  ta. 
ii.  221,  §11. 
Envy,i.  216,  §  13,  14. 
Error,  what,  ii.  225,  §  1. 
Causes  of  error,  ib. 

1.  Want  of  proofs,  ib.  {  2. 

2.  Want  of  skill  to  use  them,  ii.  g2|, 

3.  Want  of  will  to  use  them,  ii.  228, 

4.  Wrong  measures  of  probability,  ii. 
229,  §7. 

Fewer  men  assent  to  errors  than,  is 
supposed,  ii.  235,  {  18. 
Essence,  real  and  nominal,  i.  391,  $  15. 

Supposition  of  unintelligible,  real  es- 
sences of  species,  of  no  use,  i.  392, 

Rial  and  nominal  essences,  in  simple 

ideas  and  modes  always  the  same. 

in   substances   always  different,  i. 

393,  5  18. 
Essences,  how  ingenerable  and  incor- 
ruptible, i.  393,  $  19. 
Specific  essences  of  mixed  modes  are 

of  men's   making,  und  how,  i.  402. 

{3. 
Though  arbitrary,  yet  not  at  random. 

i.  404,  \  7. 
Of  mixed  modes,  why  called  notion?, 

i.  407,  $  12. 
What,  i.  410,  $2. 
Relate  only  te  species,  i.  411,5  4. 
Real  essences,  what,  i.  413,  ij  6. 
We  know  them  not,  i.  414.  J  9. 
Our  specific   essences  of  subsiaiiiL-- 

arc  nothing  but  collections  oi  sen 

sible  ideas,  i.  419,  §21. 
Nominal  are  made   by  the  mind,  i 

422, 5  26. 
But  not  altogether  arbitrarily,  i.  424., 

§  28. 
Nominal  essences  of  substances, how 

made,  i.  424,  {28,29- 
Are  very  various,  i.  425,  {  30,  i.  426. 

6  31. 
Of'specie.5,  are  the  abstract  ideas  th< 


366 


LNDEX, 


names  stand  lor,  1.  3£6,  J 12,  i.  381', 
$  19. 
Are  of  man's  making,  i.  389, $  12. 
But  founded   in   the    agreement   of 

things,  i.  390,  $  13. 
Ileal  essences  determine  not  our  spe- 
cies, i.  390,  £ 13 
Every  distinct,  abstract  idea,  with   a 
name,  is  a  distinct  essence  of  a  dis- 
tinct species,  i.  391,  14. 
Ileal  essences  of  substances,  not  to  be 
known,  ii.  127,  $  12. 
Essential,  what,  i.  410,  §  2  :   i.  412,  {  §, 
Nothing  essential   to  individuals,  i. 

411,^  4- 
But  to  species,  i.  413,  §6. 
Essential  difference,  what,  i.  412,  j  5. 
Eternal  verities,  ii.  168,  $  14. 
Eternity,   in   our  disputes  and  reason- 
ings about  it,  why  we  are  apt  to 
blunder,  i.  346,  ^  15. 
Whence  we  get  its  idea,  i.  183,  $  27. 
Evil,  what,  i.  236,  $  42. 
Existence,  an  idea  of  sensation  and  re- 
flection, i.  131,  $  7. 
Our  own  existence  we  know  intui- 
tively, ii.  152,  $  3. 
And  cannot  doubt  of  it,  ib. 
Of  created  things,  knowable  only  by 

our  senses,  ii.  162,  J  1. 
Fast  existence  known  only  by  memo- 
ry, ii.  167,  $  11. 
Expansion,  boundless,  i.  186,  $  2. 

Should  be  applied  to  space  in  gene- 
ral, i.  171.  $  27. 
Rxperience  often  helps  us,  where  we 

think  not  that  it  does,  i.  143,  §  8. 
Extension  :  we  have   no   distinct  ideas 
of  very  great,  or  very  little  exten- 
sion, i.  346, 5  16. 
Of  body,  incomprehensible,  i.  280, 

}  23,  &c. 
Denominations,  from  place  and  exten- 
sion, are  many  of  them  relatives,  i. 
296,  $  5. 
And  body  not  the  same  thing,  i.  165, 

$11. 
Its  definition  insignificant,  i.  166.  g 15. 
Of  body  and  of  space  how  distinguish- 
ed,!. 127,5  5:  i.  171,  J  27. 


F. 


Faculties  ot  the  mind  first  exercised, 

i.  157,  $  14. 
Are  but  powers,  i.  224,  Q  17. 
Operate  not,  i.  225,  §  IS,  20. 
Faith  and  opinion,  as  distinguished  from 

knowledge,  what,  ii.  182, $  2,  3. 
And  knowledge,  their  difference,  ib. 

§3. 
What,  ii.  193,  $  14. 
Vot  opposite  to  reason,  ii.  209,  q  24. 
\s  contra-distinguished    to    reason- 

^bat,ii.  210.  '  2 


Cannot  convince  us  of  any  thing  con- 
trary to  our  reason,  ii.  212,  ice.  8  5, 
6,  Si 
Matter  of  faith  is  only  divine  revela- 
tion, ii.  215,  §  9. 
Things  above  reason  are  only  proper 
matters  of  faith,  ii.  2l4,  {  7  :  ii 
215,  $  9. 

Falsehood,  what  it  is,  ii.  118,  $  9. 

Fancy,  i.  150, ')  8. 

Fantastical  ideas,  i.  348,  $  1. 

Fear,  i.  215,  $  10. 

Figure,  i.  162,  $  o,  6. 

Figurative  speech,    an   abuse  of  lau 
guage,ii.  40,  $  34. 

Finite,  and  infinite,  modes  of  quantitv, 
i.  197,  j  l. 
All  positive  ideas  of  quantity,  finite-, 
i.  201,  $  S. 

Forms,  substantial  forms  distinguish  not 
species,  i.  415,  \  10. 

Free,  how  far  a  man  is  so,  i.  226, $  21. 
A  man  not  free  to  will,  or  not  to  will. 
i.227,  $  22,23,24. 

Freedom  belongs  only  to  agents,  i.  225. 
$19- 

Wherein  it  consists,  i.  229,  $  27. 

Tree  will, liberty  belongs  not  to  the  will, 
i.  223,  §  14. 
Wherein  consists  that,  which  is  called 
free  will,  i.  227,  $  24 :  i.  240,  {  47. 


G 


General  ideas,  how  made,  i.  155,  $  9- 
Knowledge,  what,  ii.  105,31. 
Propositions  cannot  be  known  to  bi 
true,  without  kaewing  the  essence 
of  the  species,  ii.  120,  §  4. 
Words,  how  made,  i.  379,  3S0,  {  6. 
7,8. 
Belongs  only  to  signs,  i.385,  $  lj. 
Gentlemen  should  not  be  ignorant,  ii. 

22S,  $  6.  • 
Genus  and  species,  what,  i.  384,  $  10. 
Are  but  Latin  names  for  sorts,  i.  406. 

J9- 

Is  but  a  partial  conception  of  what  is 

in  the  species,  i.  427,  $  32. 

And   species  adjusted  to  the  end  of 
speech,  i.  428,  $  33. 

And  species  are  made  in  order  toge- 
•  neral  names,  i.  430, §  39. 
Generation,  i.  294,  $  2. 
God  immoveable,  because  infinite,  i. 
279,  §21. 

Fills  immensity,  as  well  as  eternitv. 
i.  187,  $  3. 

His  duration,  not  like  that  of  the  crea- 
tures, i.  192,193, 5  12. 

An  idea  of  God  not  innate,  i.  93,  $  8. 

The  existence  of  a  God  evident,  and 
obvious  to  reason,  i.  95,  $  9. 

The  notion  of  a  God  once  got.  i=  (he. 


juVDLX. 


363 


test  to  spread  and  be  continued, 

i.  96,  {  9,  10. 
Idea  of  God  late  and  imperfect,  i.  98, 

}  13. 
Contrary,  i.  99, 100,  }  15, 16. 
Inconsistent,  i.  99.  y  15- 
The    best  notions   of  God,   got  by 

thought  and    application,  i.     100, 

;  15. 
Notions  of  God  frequently  not  wortliv 

ofhim,i.  100,  \  16.       . 
The  being  of  a  God  certain,  ibid. 

proved,  ii.  152. 
As  evident  as  that  the  three  angles  of 

a  triangle  are  equal  to  two  right 

ones,  i.  104,  }  22. 
Yea,  as  that  two  opposite  angles  are 

equal,  i.  100,  }  16. 
More  certain  than  any  other  existence 

without  us,  ii.  151,  b  6. 
The  idea  of  God,  not  the  only  proof 

of  his  existence,  ibid,  j  7. 
The  being  of  a  God  the  foundation 

of  inoralitv   and   divinitv,  ii.    154 

\% 
TIow  we  make  our  idea  of  God,  i. 

280,  {33,34. 
<  rold  is  fixed  ;  the  various  significations 

of  this  proposition,  i.  436,  }  50. 
Water  strained   through   it,  i.   127, 

14 
•  rood  and  evil,  what,  i.  214,  }  2  :  i.  236, 

{  42. 
The  greater  good  determines  not  the 

will,  i.  232, }  35  :  i.  234,  }  38  :  i. 

CMC      S    4_| 

yfhffi.  238,  §44:  i.  239  }  46  :  i.  247, 

&c.  }  59,  60,  64,  65.  69. 
l'wofold,i.  248,  h  61. 
Works  on  the  will  only  bv  desire,  i. 

239,  }  46. 
Desire  of  good  how  to  be   raised,)'. 

239,  2-10.  }  46.  47. 


Habit,  i.263,  \  10. 

Habitual  actions  pass  often  wit  limit  our 
notice,]'.  145. }  10. 

Hair,  how  it  appears  in  a  microscope,  i. 
274,5  u- 

Happiness,  what,  i.236,  \  42. 

What  happiness  men  pursue,  i.  237, 

,J43. 
How  we  come  to  rest  in  narrow  hap- 
piness, i.  247,  I  59,60. 

Hardness,  what,  i.  126,  }  4. 

Hatred,  i.  214,  }  5:  i.216,}  11. 

1  leat  and  cold,  how  the  sensation  of  them 
both  is  produced,  by  the  same 
water,  at  the  same  tunc,  i.  138, 
$21. 

History,  what  history  of  IflOBt  authority, 
ii.  190.1}  11. 

Hope.  i.2V=>.':  'i 


Hypotheses,  their  use,  ii.  176,  j  13. 

Are  to  be   built  on  matter  of  1  • 
112,  '  10. 


i. 


Ice  and  water  whether  distinct  species, 

i.  417,  ^  13. 
Idea,  what.i.  134.  )  8. 
Ideas,  their  original  in  children,  i.  91. 
}  2:  i.  99,  ,)  13. 
None  innate,  i.  101.  {  17. 
Because  not    remembered,  i.   102,  : 

20. 
Are    what    the    mind    is    employed 

about,  in  thinking,  i.  108,  }  i. 
All  from  sensation,  or  reflection,  ibid. 

5  2,  &c. 

How  this  is  to  be  understood,  ii.  72. 

Their  way  of  getting,  observable  in 
children,  i.  110,  $  6. 

Why  some  have  more,  some  fc-.wev 
ideas,  i.  110,  5  7. 

Of  reflection  got  late,  and  in  some 
very  negligently,  i.  Ill,}  8. 

Their  beginning  and  increase  in  chil- 
dren, i .  1 1 8,  1 1 9,  §  2 1 ,  22, 2 3,  24 . 

Their  original  in  sensation  and  relic- 
tion, i.  119,  $  24. 

Of  one  sense,  i.  123,  §  1. 

Want  names,  i.  124,  §  2. 

Of  more  than  one  sense,  i.  128,  §  I. 

Of  reflection,  i.  128,  §  1. 

Of  sensation   and   reflection,  i.    129, 

As  in  the  mind,  and  in   things,  must 

be  distinguished,  i.  134,  <§  7. 
Not  always  resemblances,  i.  136,5  15. 

ice. 
Which  are  first,  is    not   material  to 

know,  i.  143,  §  7. 
Of   sensation    often  altered    by   th< 

judgment,  i.  1  to,  §  8. 
Principally  those  of  sight,  i.  1 II,  ;  9 
Of  reflect  ion,  i.  157,  >o  14. 
Simple   ideas  men   agree   in,  i.   172. 

■  28.    • 
Moving  in   a    regular  train   in   out 

minds,  i.  17.6,  §9. 
Such  as   have'  degrees  want  names,  i. 

210,  §6. 
Why  some  have  names  and  others 

not,  Ibid.  §7. 
Original,  r.  257. 
All    complex    ideas    resolvable   into 

simple,  i.  262,  •:  9 
What  simple  ideas  have  been  most 

modified,  i.  263,  §  10. 
Our  complex  idea  of  God,  and  other 

-pints  common  in  cwry  thing,  but 

infinity,  i.  286,  §  36. 
Clear  and  obscure^  i.340,  >§  2. 
Distinct  and  confused,  i.  341,  S  4. 
May  be  clear  in  one  part  and  obac 

in  another,  i.  ."•'-,'  13 


36* 


INDEX. 


Real  and  fantastical,  i.  848,^   1 . 

Simple  are  all  real,  i.  ibid.  §  2. 

And  adequate,  i.  351,  §  2. 

What  ideas  of  mixed  modes  are  fan- 
tastical, i.  349,  §  4. 

What  ideas  of  substances  arc  fantasti- 
cal, i.  350,  §  5. 

\dequate  and  inadequate,  i.  350,  {  1  ■ 

How  said  to  be  in  things,  351,  i.  j  2. 

Modes  are  all  adequate  ideas,  i.  351, 
$3. 

Unless,  as  referred  to  names,  i.  352, 
353,  §  4,  5. 

Of  substances  inadequate,  i.  357, 
Jll. 

1.  As  referred  to  real  essences,  i.  33, 
376,  $6, 7. 

2.  As  referred  to  a  collection  of  sim- 
ple ideas,  i.  355,  §  8. 

Simple  ideas  are  perfect  ailuTrn,  i.  357, 

$  12. 
Of  substances  are   perfect  mIvtto,,  i. 

357,  $  14. 

Of  modes  are  perfect  archetypes,  i. 

358,  §  14. 

True  or  false,  ib.  §  14,  &c. 

When  false,  i.  365,  366,  §  21,  22,  23, 

24,  25. 
As  bare    appearances  in  the   mind, 

neither  true  nor  false,  i.  359,  §  3. 
As  referred  to  other  men's  ideas,  or 

to  real  existence,  or  to  real  essen- 
ces,may  be  true  or  false,  ibid.  §  4,  5. 
Reason  of  such  reference,  i.  360,  §  9, 

7,8. 
Simple  ideas  referred  to  other  men  s 

ideas,  least  apt  to  be  false,  i.  361, 

$9. 
Complex  ones,  in  this  respect,  more 

apt  to  be  false,  especially  those  of 

mixed  modes,  i.  ibid.  $  10. 
Simple   ideas  referred  to  existence, 

are  all  true,  i.  362,  J   14:  i.  363, 

$  16. 
Though  they  should  be  different  in 

different  men,  i.  ibid.  §  15. 
Complex  ideas  of  modes  are  all  true, 

i.364,  (  17. 
©f  substances  -when  false,  i.  365,  J  21 , 

&e. 
When  right  or  -wrong,  i.  367,  $  26. 
That  we  are  incapable  of,  ii.  98,  99, 

§23. 
That   we   oannot  attain,  because  of 

their  remotenes?,  ii.  99,  J  24. 
Because  of  their  minuteness,  ii.  TOO, 

$25. 
Simple  have  a   real    conformity    to 

things,  ii.  106,  §  4. 
And  all   others  but  of  substances,  ii. 

107,^5. 
Simple  cannot  be  got  by  definitions 

of  words,  i.  398,  $11. 
But  only  by   experience,  i.  400,  $  14. 
Of  mixed  modes  why  most  compound- 
ed, i.408. }  13. 


Specific,  of  mixed  modes,  how  at  first, 
made :  instance  in  kinneah  and 
niouph,  i.  433,  $  44,  45. 

Of  substances  :  instance  inzahab,  i. 
434,  435,  §  46, 47. 

Simple  ideas  and  modes  have  all  ab- 
stract, as  well  as  concrete,  names, 
ii.  12,5  2. 

Of  substances,  have  scarce  any  ab- 
stract names,  ibid. 

Different  in  different  men,  ii.  18,  19, 
$  13. 

Our  ideas,  almost  all  relative  i.  218, 
$3. 

Particular  are  first  in  the  mind,  ii.  16, 
§9. 

General  are  imperfect,  11.  lb.  §  9. 

How  positive  ideas  may  be  from 
privative  causes,  i.  133,  $  4. 

The  use  of  this  term  not  dangerous. 
i.  55,  &c.  It  is  fitter  than  the 
word  notion,  i.  56.  Other  words 
as  liable  to  be  abused  as  this,  i.  57. 
Yet  it  is  condemned,  both  as  new, 
and  not  new,  i.  58.  The  same  with 
notion,  sense,  meaning,  &c.  ii.  56. 
Identical  propositions  teach  nothing,  ii. 

144  J  2. 
Identity  not  an  innate  idea,  i.  91,  92, 
5  3,4,5. 

And  diversity,  i.  297, 5  1. 

Of  a  plant,  wherein  it  consists,  i.  299. 

H- 

Of  animals,  i.  299,  }  5. 

Of  a  man,  i.  300,  J  6 :  i.  301,  $  8. 

Unity  of  substance  does  not  always 
make  the  same  identity,  i.  300,  }  7. 

Personal  identity,  i.  302,  §  9. 

Depends  on  the  same  consciousness, 
i.  303,  §  10. 

Continued  existence  makes  identitw 
i.  314,  §  29. 

And  diversity,  in  ideas  the  first  per- 
ception of  the  mind,  ii.  57,  $  4. 
Idiots  and  madmen,  i.  ]56,  5  12, 13. 
Ignorance,  our  ignorance  infinitely  ex- 
ceeds our  knowledge,  ii.  98,  }  22. 

Causes  of  ignorance,  ii.  98,  99,  {  23. 

1.  For  want  of  ideas,  ibid. 

2.  For  want  of  a  discoverable  connex- 
ion between  the  ideas  we  have,  ii. 
102,  ^  23. 

3.  For  want  of  tracing  the  ideas  we 

have,  ii.  104,  §  30. 
Illation,  what,  ii.   194,  $  4. 
Immensity,  i.  162,  §  4. 

How  this  idea  is  got,  i.  198,  $  3. 
Immoralities,   of  whole  nations,   i.  '•'.'. 

80,  $  9,  10. 
Immortality  not  annexed  to  anv  shape. 

ii.  112,  !j  15. 
Impenetrability,  i.  124, 125,  §  I. 
Imposition  of  opinions  unreasonable,  ii. 

186,  $  4. 
Impossibile  est  idem  esse  et  non  esse, not 

the.  first    thins  known,  i.  72,  4  25. 


INDEX. 


J69 


impossibility,  not  an  innate  idea,  i.  91, 
$3. 

Impression  on  the  mind,  what,  i.  61, 
$5. 

Inadequate  ideas,  i.  350,  $  1. 

Incompatibility,  how  far   knowable,  ii. 
93,  $  15. 

Individuations  principium,  is  existence, 
i.  298,  $  3. 

Infallible  judge  of  controversies  i.  97, 
$  12. ' 

Infercuce,  what,  ii.  180,  181,  \  2,  3,  4. 

Infinite,  why  the  idea  of  infinite  not 
applicable  to  other  ideas  as  well 
as  those  of  quantity,  since  they  can 
be  as  often  repeated,  i.  199,  $  6. 
The  idea  of  infinity  of  space,  or  num- 
ber, and  of  space,  or  number  infi- 
nite, must  be  distinguished,  i.200, 

Our  idea  of  infinite  very  obscure,  i. 
201,  $  8. 

Vumber  furnishes  us  with  the  clear- 
est ideas  of  infinite,  i.  201,  §  9. 

The  idea  of  infinite,  a  growing  idea, 
i.  203,  $  12. 

Our  idea  of  infinite,  partly  positive, 
partly  comparative,  partly  nega- 
tive, i.204,  §  15. 

Why  some  men  think  they  have  an 
idea  of  infinite  duration,  but  not 
of  infinite  space,  i.  207,  $  20. 

Why  disputes  about  infinite,  are 
usually  perplexed,  i.  208,  J  21. 

Our  idea  of  infinity  has  its  original 
in  sensation  and  reflection,  i.  208, 
}  22. 

We  have  no  positive  idea  of  infinite, 
i.  203,  J  13,  11:  i.  205,  $  16. 
Infinity,  why  more  commonly  allowed 
to  duration  than  to  expansion,  i. 
187,  }  4. 

How  applied  to  God  by  us,  i.  197, 

$  <• 

How  we  get  this  idea,  i.  198,  §  2,  3. 
The  infinity  of  number,  duration,  and 

apace,  different  ways  considered,  i. 

W2,j  10,  11. 
Innate  truths  must  be  the  first  known, 

i.  73,  $  26. 
Principles  to  no  purpose,  if  men  can 

be  ignorant  or  doubtful  of  them,  i. 

83,  $  13. 
Principles  of  my  lord   Herbert  exa- 
mined, i.  84,85,  §  15,  ice. 
Moral  rules  to  no  purpose,  if  efface- 

able,  or  alterable,  i.  87,  $  20. 
Propositions  must   be   distinguished 

from  others  by  their  clearness  and 

usefulness,!.  104.  $  21. 
The  doctrine  of  innate  principles  of 

ill  consequence,  i.  106,  $  24. 
Instant,  what,  i.  176,$  10. 
And  continual  change,  i.  177.  5  13, 

14.  IS. 


Intuitive  knowledge,  ii.  62,  q  1. 

Our  highest  certainty,   ii.  205,  206, 
(14. 
Invention,  wherein  it  consists,  i.  150,  $  o. 
Joy,  i.  215,  $7. 
Iron,  of  what  advantage  to  mankind,  ii. 

175,$  11. 
Judgment,  wrong  judgments,  in  refer- 
ence to  good  and  evil,  1.  '2-16,  §  58. 
Right  judgment,  ii,  ^6,  {  4. 
One  cause    of  wrong  judgment,  ii. 

185,$  3. 
Wherein  it  consists,  ii.  1!10,  &c. 


K. 


Knowledge  has  a  great  connexion  with 
words,  ii.  37.  $  25. 

The  author's  definition  of  it  explain- 
ed and  defended,  ii.  57,  note.  1 1  ow 
it  differs  from  faith,  ii.  182,  \  2, 3  : 
ii.  58,  note. 

What,  ii.  54,  $  2. 

How  much  our  knowledge  depends 
on  our  senses,  ii.  50,  h  23. 

Actual,  ii.  59,  $  8. 

Habitual,  ibid.  $  8. 

Habitual,  twofold,  ii.  61, }  9. 

Intuitive,  ii.  62,  $  1. 

Intuitive,  the  clearest,  ii.  62,  $  1. 

Intuitive,  irresistible,  ibid. 

Demonstrative,  ii.  62,  $  2. 

Of  general  truths,  is  all  either  intui- 
tive, or  demonstrative,  ii.  67,  $  14. 

Of  particular  existences,  is  sensitive, 
ibid. 

Clear  ideas  do  not  always  produce 
clear  knowledge,  ii.  68,  $  15. 

What  kind  of  knowledge  we  have  of 
nature,  i,  275.  $  12. 

Its  beginning  and  progress,  i.  157, 
158,  $  15,16,  17:  i.  66,  $  15,16. 

Given  us,  in  the  faculties  to  attain  it. 
i.  97,  98,  j  12. 

Men's  knowledge  according  to  the 
employment  of  their  faculties,  i. 
104,522. 

To  be  got  only  by  the  application 
of  our  own  thought  to  the  contem- 
plation of  things,  i.  105,  $  23. 

Extent  of  human  knowledge,  ii.  69. 

Our  knowledge  goes  not  beyond  our 
ideas,  ibid.  $  1. 

Nor  beyond  the  perception  of  their 
agreement  or  disagreement,  ibid. 
$2. 

Reaches  not  to  all  our  ideas,  ibid. 
$3. 

Much  less  to  the  reality  of  things,  ii. 
70,  $  6. 

Yet  very  improveable,  if  right  way- 
were  taken,  ibid.  }  6. 

Of  coexistence  very  narrow,  ii.  90. 
91,  j  9;  10. 11. 


370 


lJSDEX. 


And  therefore  of  substances  very  nar- 
row, ii.  92,  tc.  j  14,  15,  16. 

Of  other  relations  indeterminable,  ii. 
94,  }  18. 

Of  existence,  ii.  90,  }  21. 

Certain  and  universal,  where  to  be 
had,  ii.  103,  \  2;». 

Ill  use  of  word?,  a  great  hinderance 
of  knowledge,  ii.  104,  h  30. 

General,  where  to  be  got,  ii.  105,  o  31. 

Lies  only  in  our  thoughts,  ii.  127, 
5  13. 

Reality  of  our  knowledge,  ii.  105. 

Of  mathematical  truths,  how  real,  ii. 
107,  J  6. 

Of  morality,  real,  ii.  108,  J  7. 

Of  substances,  how  far  real,  ii.  110, 
§  12. 

What  makes  our  knowledge  real,  ii. 
106,  10S,  §  3  :  ii.  10S,  §  8. 

Considering  things,  and  not  names, 
the  way  to  knowledge,  ii.  Ill,  J  13. 

Of  substances,  wherein  it  consists,  ii. 
110,  ^  11. 

What  required  to  any  tolerable  know- 
ledge of  substances,  ii.  127,  §  14. 

Self-evident,  ii.  130,  §  2. 

Of  identity,  and  diversity,  as  large  as 
our  ideas,  ii.  90,  J  3 :  ii.  130,  J  4. 

Wherein  it  consists,  ibid. 

Of  coexistence,  very  scanty,  ii.  132, 

Of  relations  of  modes,  not  so  scanty, 
ii.  132,  j  6. 

Of  real  existence,  none,  ibid,  h  7. 

Begins  in  particulars,  ii.  133,  \  9. 

Intuitive   of  our  own  existence,  ii. 

_  152,  \  3. 

Demonstrative  of  a  God,  ii.  152,  }  I. 

Improvement  of  knowledge,  ii.  169. 

Not  improved  by  maxims,  ii.  169,  \  1. 

Why  so  thought,  ii.  1<59,  \  2. 

Knowledge  improved,  only  by  per- 
fecting and  comparing  ideas,  ii.  172. 
$  6:  ii.  176,5  14- 

And  finding  their  relations,  ii.  172,  §  7. 

By  intermediate  ideas,  ii.  177,  §  14. 

In  substances,  how  to  be  improved, ii. 
173,  §  9. 

Tartly  necessary,  partly  voluntary,  ii. 
17»,$  l,ii.  178,  §2. 

Why  some,  and  so  little,  ibid.  §  2. 

How  increased,  ii.  183,  {  6. 


Language,  why  it  changes,  i.  261,  \  7. 
Wherein  it  consists,  i.  375,  §  1,  2,  3. 
Its  use,  i.  404,  §  7. 
Its  imperfections,  ii.  13,  §  1. 
Double  use,  ibid. 

The  use  of  language  destroyed  by  the 
subtilty  of  disputing,  ii.  28,  §   6, 
7,8. 
Ends  of  language,  ii.  37,  jj  23. 


Its    imperfections,    not  easy   to    he 
cured,  ii.  41,  §  2:  ii.  42,  §  4,5,  6. 
The  cure  of  them  necessary  to  philo- 
sophy, ii.  41,  §  3. 
To  use  no  word  without  a  clear  and 
distinct  idea  annexed  to  it,  is  one 
remedy  of  the  imperfections  of  lan- 
guage, ii.  43,  44,  (j  8,  9. 
Propriety  in  the  use  of  words,another 
remedy,  ii.  45,  8  11. 
Law  of  nature  generally  allowed,  i.  77, 
$6. 
There  is,   though   not  innate    i.  82, 

$  13. 
Us  enforcement,  i.  330,  $  6. 
Learning,   the  ill    state  of  learning  in 
these  latter  ages,  ii.  13,  &c. 
Of  the    schools  lies   chiefly   in   the 
abuse  of  words,  ii.  17,  &c.  ii.  28. 
Such  learning  of  ill  consequence,  ii. 
29,  §  10,  &c. 
Libertv,   what,  i.  221,  222,  J  8,  9,  10, 
II,  12:  i.223,  J  15. 
Belongs  not  to  the  will,  i,  223,  }  14. 
To  be  determined  by  the  result  of 
our    own   deliberation,    is  no  re- 
straint of  liberty,  i.  240,  241,  $  48, 
49,  50. 
Founded  in  a  power  of  suspending 
our  particular  desires,  i.  340,  §  47  . 
i.  42,  J  61,  52. 
Light,    its  absurd  definitions,  i.  397, 

§  10. 
Light  in  the  mind,  what,  ii.  222,  J  13. 
Logic  has  introduced  obscurity  into  lan- 
guages, ii.28,  j  6,  7. 
And  hindered  knowledge,  ii.  28,  {  7. 
Love,  i.  214,  $  4. 


M. 


Madness,  i.  156,  §  13.     Opposition  to 
reason  deserves  that  name.  i.  368. 

§4-  . 
Magisterial,    the    most    knowing    arc 

least  magisterial,  ii.  187, }  4. 
Making,  i.  294,  J  2.  • 

Man  not  the  product  of  blind  chance,  ii. 
154,  ^  6. 
The  essence  of  man  is  placed  in  his 

shape  ii.  113,  J  16. 
We  know  not  his  real  essence,  i.  411, 

5  3 :  420,  $  22  :  i.  423,  }  27. 
The  boundaries  of  the  human  species 

not  determined,  i.  423,  §  27. 
What    makes   the    same    individual 

man,i.  309,  J  21  :  i.  314,  J  29. 
The  same  man  may  be  different  per- 
sons, i.  308,  5  19. 
Mathematics,  their  methods,  ii.  172,  J  7. 

Improvement,  ii.  177,  $  15. 
Matter  incomprehensible,    both  in   its 
cohesion  and  divisibility,  i.  280,  ? 
23:  i.  284,  $30,31. 
What,  ii.  3-1.1  15. 


INDEX. 


371 


\\  hether   it  may  think,  is  not  to  be 

known,  ii.  70—80,  }  6  :  ii.  77,  &c. 
Cannot  produce  motion,  or  any  tiling 

else,  ii.  156,  {  10. 
\ivl  motion  cannot  produce  thought, 

ibid. 
Not  eternal,  ii.  160,  §  18- 
Maxims,  ii.  160,  {  129,  ice. :  ii.  140,  141, 

§  12,13,  14,  15. 
Not  alone  self-evident,  ii.  130,  8,  3. 
Are  not  the  truths  first  known,  ii.  133, 

$9. 
Not  the  foundation  of  our  knowledge, 

ii.  134,  )  ID. 
Wherein  their  evidence   consists,  ii. 

134, 8  10. 
Their  use,ii.  135— 140,  {  11,  12. 
Why  the  most  general  self-evident 

propositions  alone,  pass  for  maxim?, 

ii.  139,  ^  11. 
Are  commonly  proofs,   only  where 

there  is  no  need  of  proofs,  ii.  141,  $ 

15. 
Of  little  use,  with  clear  terms,  ii.  143, 

5  19. 
Of   dangerous    use,    with    doubtful 

terms,   ii.  140,  fcc.  §  12 :  ii.    143, 

§20. 
When  first  known,  i.  63,  &c.  $  9.  12, 

13:  i.65,  $  14,  i.  66,  §  16. 
How  they  gain  assent,  i.  69,  70,  8  21, 

22. 
Made  from  particular   observations, 

ibid. 
Not  in  the  understanding  before  they 

are  actually  known,  i.  70,  §  22. 
Neither  their  terms  nor  ideas  innate, 

i.  70,  71,  $  23. 
Least  known  to  children. and  illiterate 

people,  i.  73,  74,  j  27. 
Memory,  i.  147,  \  2. 

Attention,  pleasure,  and  pain,  settle 

ideas  in  the  memory,  i.  148,  q  3. 
And  repetition,  ibid.  $  4  :   i.  149,  }  6. 
Difference  of  memory,  i.  148,  J  4,  5. 
In  remembrance,  the  mind  sometimes 

active,  sometimes  passive,  i.    149, 

Its  necessity,  i.  148,  §  5  :  1. 148,  g  8. 
Defects,  i.  J  SO,  8  8,9. 
In  brutes,  i.  151,  j  10. 
Metaphysics   and  school  divinity  filled 
with  unjnstructive  propositions,  ii. 
1  19,  \  9. 
Method  used  in  mathematics,  ii.  83, '(/  7. 
Mind)  the  quickness  of  its  actions,  i.  145, 

§  10. 
Minutes,  hours,  days,  not  necessary  to 

duration,  i.  182, 0.  23. 
Miracles,  the  ground  of  assent  to  mira- 
cles, ii.  192, J  13. 
Misery,  what,  i.  236,  §  42. 
Modes,  mixed,  i.  259,  \  1  .  ' 
Mfl  1*  by  the  mind.  i.  259.  6  2. 


Sometimes  got  by  the  explication  of 

their  names,  i.  2C0,  g  3. 
Whence  a  mixed  mode  has  its  unity, 

i.  260,$  4. 
Occasion  of  mixed  modes,  i.  260,  {  5. 
Mixed  modes,  their  ideas,  how  got,  :. 

262,  \  9. 
Modes  simple  and  complex,  i.  ]60,  '  5. 
Simple  modes,  i.  161,  $  1. 
Of  motion,  i.  209,  \  2." 
Moral  good  and  evil,  what,  i-  830,  j  5. 
Three  rules,  whereby  men  judge  of 

moral  rectitude,  i.  330,  §  7. 
Beings,  how  founded  on  simple  idea: 

of  sensation  and  reflection,  i.  336, 

337,  {  14,  15. 
Rules  not  self-evident,  i.  77,  g  4. 
Variety  of  opinions,  concerning  moral 

rules,  whence,  i.  77,  g"  5,6. 
Rules,  if  innate,  cannot  with  public 

allowance  be  transgressed,  i.  80,  ice. 

§11,12,13. 
Morality,  capable  of  demonstration,   ii 

95,5  18:  »•  1^3,  ^  8. 
The  proper  study  of  mankind,  ii.  17.5. 

$11. 
Of  actions,  in  their  conformity  to  a 

rule,  i.  336,  $  15. 
Mistakes   in    moral  notions,  owing  to 

names,  ibid.  g"  16. 
Discourses  in  morality,  if  not  clear,  it 

is  the  fault  of  the  speaker,  ii.  4S, 

5  i- 

llinderances  of  demonstrative  treat 
ing  of  morality.     1 .  Want  of  marks . 

2.  Complexedness,  ii.  95<  96,  }  19. 

3.  Interest,  ii.87,  !)  20. 

Change  of  names  in  morality,  changes 
not  the  nature  of  things,  ii.  109, 
$9. 

And  mechanism,  hard  to  be  recon- 
ciled, i.  84,  h  14. 

Secured  amidst  men's  wrong   judg- 
ments,  i.  253,  '~54,  *}  70. 
Motion,  slow  or  very    swift,  why  not 
perceived,  i.  175,  176,  $  7,  8,9,  10, 
11. 

Voluntary,  inexplicable,  ii.  161,  '  19 

Its  absurd  definitions,  i.  396, {  8,9. 


N. 


Naming  of  ideas,  i.  154,  {  S. 
Names  moral,esfablifhed  by  law, are  nol 
to  be  varied  from,  ii.  110,  (  10. 
Of  substances,  standing  for  real  essen- 
ces, are  not  capable  to  convey  cer- 
tainty to  the  understanding;  ii.  121, 
$5. 
Standing  for  nominal    essences,  will 
make  some,  though  not  many  cer- 
tain propositions,  ii.  122,  g  6. 
Why  men  substitute  names  for  real 
ices,  which  they  know  not,  ii. 
34,8  19 


372 


INDEX. 


Two  false  suppositions,  in  such  an  use 

of  names,  ii.  35,   g  21. 
A  particular  name  to  every  particular 

thing  impossible,  i.  381,  {  2. 
And  useless,  i.  381,  {  3. 
Proper    names,    where    used,  i.  382, 
{  4,  5. 

Specific  names  are  affixed  to  the  no- 
minal essence,  i.  392,  {16. 

Of  simple  ideas  and  substances,  refer 
to  things,  i.  395,  {  2. 

What  names  stand  for  both  real  and 
nominal  essence,  i.  395,  j  3. 

Of  simple  ideas  not  capable  of  defi- 
nitions, ibid.  }  4. 

Why,  i.  396,  0  7. 

Of  least  doubtful  signification,  i.  400, 
§  15. 

Have  few  ascents  "  in  linea  prajdica- 
mentali,"  i.  400,  §  16. 

Of  complex  ideas,  may  be  defined,  i. 
399,  §  12. 

Of  mixed  modes,  stand  for  arbitrary 
ideas,  i.  402,  §  2,3  :  i,  433,  }  44. 

Tie  together  the  parts  of  their  com- 
plex ideas,  i.  4Uo,  j  10. 

Stand  always  for  the  real  essence,  i. 
408,  $  14. 

"Why  got,  usually,  before  the  ideas 
are  known,  ibid.  {  15. 

Of  relations  comprehended  under 
those  of  mixed  modes,  i.  409,  {  16. 

General  names  of  substances  stand 
for  sorts,  i.  410,  $  1, 

Necessary  to  species,  i.  430,  {  39. 

Proper"  names  belong  only  to  sub- 
stances, i.  432,  J  42. 

Of  modes  in  their  first  application,  i. 
433,  { 44,  45. 

Of  substances  in  their  first  applica- 
tion, i.  434,  435,  $  46,  47. 

Specific  names  stand  for  different 
tilings  in  different  men,  i.  435, 
{  48. 

Are  put  in  the  place  of  the  thing  sup- 
posed to  have  the  real  essence  of 
the  species,  ibid.  {  49. 

Of  mixed  modes,  doubtful  often,  be- 
cause of  the  great  composition  of 
the  ideas  they  stand  for,  ii.  15,  {  6. 

Because  they  want  standards  in  na- 
ture, ii.  15,  {7. 

Of  substances,  doubtful,  because  re- 
ferred to  patterns,  that  cannot  be 
known,  or  known  but  imperfectly 
ii.  i8,&c'$  11,12,13,  14. 

In  their  philosophical  use  hard  to 
have  settled  significations,  ii.  20, 
6  15. 

Instance,  liquor,  ii.  20,  J  16  :  gold,  ii. 
21,{  17. 

Of  simple  ideas,  why  least  doubtful. 
h*.22,  518. 


Least  compounded  ideas  have  the 
least  dubious  names,  ii.  23,  6,  19. 
Natural  philosophy,  not  capable  of  sci- 
ence, ii.  101,  §  26:  ii.  174,  §10. 
Yet  very  useful,  ii.  175,  {  12. 
How  to  be  improved,  ibid. 
What  has  hindered  its  improvement, 
ii.  176, }  12. 
Necessity,  i.  223,  $  13. 
Negative  terms,  i.  376,  §  4. 
Names,  signify  the  absence  of  positive 

ideas,  i.  133,  }  5. 
Newton  (Mr.)  ii.  136,  §  11. 
Nothing :  that  nothing  cannot  produce 
any  thing,  is  demonstration,  ii.  153, 
{3. 
Notions,  l.  259,  $  2. 
Number,  i  193. 

Modes  of  number  the  most  distincl 

ideas,  i.  194,  j  3. 
Demonstrations  in  numbers,  the  most 

determinate,  ibid.  {  4. 
The  general  measure,  i.  196,  §  8. 
Affords  the  clearest  idea  of  infinity,  i 
201,  §  9. 
Numeration,  what,  i.  194,  §  5. 

Names  necessary  to  it,  i.  194,  §  5,  6. 
And  order,  i.  196,  §  7. 
Why  not  early  in  children,  and  in 
some  never,  ibid. 


O. 


Obscuritv,  unavoidable  in  ancient  au- 
thors, ii.  17,  §  10. 
The  cause  of  it,  in  our  ideas,  ii.  341, 
§3. 
Obstinate,  they  are    most,  who  have 

least  examined,  ii.  185,  §  3. 
Opinion,  what,  ii.  182,  §  3. 

How  opinions  grow  up  to  principles. 

i.  88,  &c.  §22,23,24,25,26. 
Of  others,  a  wrong  ground  of  assent . 
ii.  184,  §  6  :  ii.  234,  §  17. 
Organs  :  our  organs  suited  to  our  state . 
i.  275,  &c.  §'  12,  13. 


Pain,  present,  works  presently,  i.  250. 
§64. 
Its  use,  i.  130,  §4. 
Parrot,  mentioned  by  Sir  W.  T.  i.  331. 

§8- 
Holds  a  rational  discourse,  ibid. 

Particles  join  parts,  or  whole  sentence- 
together,  ii.  9,  §  1 . 

In  them  lies  the  beauty  of  well-speak- 
ing, ii.9,  §  2. 

How  their  use  is  to  be  known,  ii.  10. 
§3. 

They  express  some  action,  or  posture 
of  the  mind,  ii.  10.  $  4, 


INDEX. 


Pascal,  his  great  memory,  i.  150, §9. 
Passion,  i.  263,  §11. 
Passions,  bow  they  lead   us  into  error, 
ii.  190,  §11. 
Turn  on   pleasure  and  pain,  i.  214, 

§  3- 
Passions  are  seldom  single,  i.  2:35,  §  39. 
Perception  threefold,  i.  220,  §  5. 

In  perception,  the  mind  tor  the  most 

part  passive,  i.  141,  §  1. 
Is  an  impression  made  on  the  mind,  i. 

142,  §  3,  4. 
In  the  womb,  i.  142,  §  5. 
Difference   between    it,  and  innate 
ideas,  i.  143,  §6. 
Puts  the  difference  between  the  animal 
and    vegetable    kingdom,   i.    145, 

The  several  degrees  of  it  show  the 
wisdom  and  goodness  of  the  Maker, 
i.  145,  §  12. 

Belongs  to  all  animals,  i.  145,  146, 
§  12,  13,  14. 

The  first  inlet  of  knowledge,  i.  146, 

§  is- 

Person,  what,  i.  302,  §  9. 
A  forensio  term,  i.  312,  §  26. 
The  same  consciousness  alone  makes 

tbe   same  person,    i.  305,  §  13  :  i. 

310,  §23. 
The  same  soul  without  the  same  con- 


sciousness,   makes    not   the   same    Proofs,  ii.  63,  §  3. 


Practical  principles  not  innate,  i.  75.  §  1 . 

Nol  universally  assented  to,  ibid.  §  - 

Are  for  operation,  i.  76,  f  3. 

Not  agreed,  i.  83,  §  14. 

Different,  i.  88,  §  21. 
Principles,  not  to  be  received  with., u 
strict  examination,  ii.  171,  §  4  :  ii 
!229,  §  8. 

The  ill  consequences  of  wrong  prin- 
ciples, ii.  230,  §  9, 10. 

None  innate,  i.  GO. 

None  universally  assented  to,  i.  GO,  61 . 
§  2,  3,  4. 

How  ordinarily  got,  i.  38, §  22,  &X. 

Are  to  be  examined,  i.  89,  90,  §  26, 
27. 

Not  innate,  if  the  ideas,  they  are  made 
up  of,  are  not  innate,1!.  91,  §  1. 
Privative  terms,  i.  376.  §  1. 
Probability,  what,  ii.  181,  Sic.  §  1.  3. 

The  grounds  of  probability,  ii.  183,  §  i. 

In  matter  of  fact,  ii.  187,  §  6. 

How  we  are  to  judge,    in  probabili- 
ties, ii.  183,  §  5. 

Difficulties  in  probabilities,  ii.189,  §9. 

Grounds   of  probability  in   specula- 
tion, ii.  191,  §  12. 

Wrong  measures   of  probability,  ii 
229.  §  7. 

How  evaded  by  prejudiced  minds,  ii. 
232,  §  13,14. 


person,  i.  305, 306,  §  14,  &c. 
Reward  and  punishment  follow  per- 


Phantastical  ideas,  i.  348,  §  1 


sonal  identity,  i.  308,  §  18. 

ntastical  ideas,  i 
Place,  i.  163,  §  7,8. 

Use  ot  place,  i.  164,  §  9. 

Nothing  but  a  relative  position,  i. 

164,  §  10. 
Sometimes  taken  for  the  space  a  body 

fills,  i.  164,  §  10. 
Twofold,    i.   188,   <5  6:   i.    188,  189, 

{6,7. 
Pleasure  and    pain,  i.  213,  5  1  :  i.  216, 

$  15,  16. 
Join  themselves  to  most  of  our  ideas, 

i.  129,  §2. 
Pleasure,  why  joined  to  several  actions, 

i.  129,  §  3. 
Power,  how  wa  come  by  its  idea,  i.  217, 

§1. 
Active  and  passive,  i.  218,  §  2. 
No  passive  power  in  God,  no  active 

power  in  matter  ;  both  active  and 

passive  in  spirits,  ibid.  §  2. 
Our  idea  of   active  power  clearest 

from  reflection,  i.  ibid.  §  4. 
Powers  operate  not  on  powers,  i.  225, 

§  18. 
Make   a  great   part  of  the  ideas  of 

substances,  i.  272,  §  7. 
Why,  i.  273.  §  8. 
\n  idea  of  sensation  and  reflection,!. 

134,  §  8 
Vot      II  1'' 


3S6S 


Properties    of    specific     essences 
known,  i.  419,  §  19. 

Of  things    very  numerous,    i, 
§  10:  i.  366,  §24. 
Propositions,  identical,  teach  nothing, 
ii.  144,  §  2. 

Genencal,  teach  nothing,  ii.  146,  §4  : 
ii.  150,  §13. 

Wherein  a  part  of  the  definition  is 
predicated  of  the  subject,  teach 
nothing,  ii.  147,  §  5,  6." 

But  the  signification  of  the  word,  ii. 
148,  §  7. 

Concerning  substances,  general!) 
either  trilling  or  uncertain,  ii.  149. 
§9. 

Merely  verbal,  how  to  be  known,  ii. 
150,  §  12. 

Abstract  terms,  predicated  one  of  an- 
other, produce  merely  verbal  pro- 
positions, ibid. 

Or  part  of  a  complex  idea,  predica- 
ted of  the  whole,  ii.  146,  §  4  :  ii 
150,  §  13. 

More  propositions,  merely  verbal, 
than  is  suspected,  ibid.  §  13. 

Universal  propositions  concern  not 
existence,  ii.  151,  §  1. 

What  propositions  concern  existence 
ibid. 

Certain  propositions,  concerning  ex- 
istence, are  particular  :  cow  ■ 


■»/ 


74 


INDEX., 


abstract  ideas.,  may  be  general,  ii. 

163,  §  13. 
Mental,  ii.  115,  §  3:  ii.  116,  §5. 
Verbal,  ibid.  §  3 :  ibid.  §  5. 
Mental,  hard   to  be  treated,  ii-  11 5. 

§3,4. 
Punishment,  what,  i.  330,  §  5. 

And  reward,  follow  consciousness,  i. 

308,§  18:   i.  312,  §26. 
An     unconscious     drunkard,     why 

punished,  i.  310,  §22.      . 


Q- 


Qualities :  secondary  qualities,  their 
connexion,  or  inconsistence,  un- 
known, ii.  91,  §  11. 

Of  substances,  scarce  knowable,  but 
by  experience,  ii.  92,  93,  §  14.  16. 

Of  spiritual  substances,  less  than  of 
corporeal,  ii.  94,  §  17. 

Secondary,  have  no  conceivable  con- 
nexion with  the  primary,  that  pro- 
duce them,  ii.  91,  92,  §"l2,  13  :  ii. 
102,  §  23. 

Of  substances,  depend  on  remote 
causes,  ii.  125,  §  11. 

Not  to  be  known  by  descriptions,  ii. 
49,  §21. 

Secondary,  how  far  capable  of  de- 
monstration, ii.  66,  67,  §  11,  12, 13. 

What,  i.  135,  §  10  :  i.  136,  §  16. 

How  said  to  be  in  things,  i.  3-18,  §  2. 

Secondary,  would  be  other,  if  we 
could  discover  the  minute  parts  of 
bodies,  i.  274,  §  11. 

Vrimary  qualities,  i.  134,  §  9. 

Mow  they  produce  ideas  in  us,  i.  135, 
§11,12. 

Secondary  qualities,  i.  135,  136,  §  13, 
14,  15. 

Primary  qualities  resemble  our  ideas, 
secondary  not,  i.  136,  §  15,  16,  &c. 

Three  sorts  of  qualities  in  bodies,  i. 
139,  §23. 

i.e.  primary,  secondary, immediately 
perceivable;  and  secondary,  me- 
diately perceivable,  i.  141,  §  26. 

Secondary  qualities,  are  bare  powers," 
i.  139,  140,  §  23,  24,  25. 

Secondary  qualities  have  no  discerni- 
ble connexion  with  the  first,  i.  140, 
§  25. 
Quotations,  how  little  to  be  relied  on, 
ii.  190,  §  11. 


R. 


Real  ideas,  i.  343,  §  1,2. 

Reason,  its  various  significations,  ii.  193, 

§1- 
What,  ii.  1P4.  §  2. 
Reason  is  natural  revelation,  'i.  213. 

'4. 


It  must  judge  of  revelation,  ii.  £3$ 

224,  §  14,  15. 
It  must  be  our  lost  guide  in  every 

thing,  ibid. 
Four  parts  of  reason,  ii.  194,  §  3. 
Where  reason  fails  us,  ii.  204,  {  9. 
Necessary  in  all  but  intuition,  ii'.  206. 

§15. 
As    contra-distinguished    to     faith. 

what,  ii.  210,  £  2. 
Helps  us  not  to  the  knowledge  oi 

innate  truths,  i.  61—63,  $  5,  6,  7. 

General  ideas,  general  terms,  and 
reason,  usually  grow  together,  i 
66,$  15. 

Recollection,  i.  211,  {  1. 

Reflection,  i.  109,  §  4. 
Related,  i.  289,  {  1. 

Relation,  ibid. 

Relation  proportional,  i.  328,  §  1. 

Natural,  ibid. §  2. 

Instituted,  i.  329,  $  3. 

Moral,  i.  330,  §  4. 

Numerous,  i.  338,  § 17. 

Terminate  in  simple  ideas,  i.  33&, 
§  18. 

Our  clear  idea  of  relation,  i.  339t 
$  19. 

Names  of  relations  doubtful,  ibid. 
}  19. 

Without  correlative  terms,  not  it 
commonly  observed,  i.  290,  {  2. 

Different  from  the  things  related,  J. 
290,  §  4. 

Changes  without  any  change  in  the 
subject,  i.  291,  }  5. 

Always  between  two,  i.  291,  §  6. 

All  things  capable  of  relation,  ibid. 
§7. 

The  idea  of  the  relation  often  clearer 
thanof  thethings  related,i.  292,  §  8. 

All  terminate  in  simple  ideas  of  sen- 
sation and  reflection,  i.  292,  §  9. 
Relative,  i.  289,  §  1. 

Some  relative  terms  taken  for  exter- 
nal denominations,  i.  290,  §  2. 

Some  for  absolute,  i.  290,  §  3. 

How  to  be  known,  i.  293,  §  10. 

Many  words,  though   seeming  abso- 
lute, are  relatives,  i.  290,  291,  §  3, 
4,5. 
Religion,  all  men  have  time  to  inquire 
into,  ii.  226,  §  3. 

But  in  many  places  are  hindered  from 
inquiring,  ii.  227,  §  4. 
Remembrance,  of  great  moment,  in  com- 
mon life,  i.  150,  §  8. 

What,  i.  102,  §20:  i.  149,  §  7. 
Reputation,  of  great  force,  in  common 

life,  i.  334,  §  12. 
Restraint,  i.  223,  §  13. 
Resurrection,  the  author's  notion  of  it. 
i.  325,  &c 

Not  neoessarilv    understood   rf   the. 


INDEX. 


375 


*nme  bodv,  ib.  &e.     The  meaning 

of  his  body,  2  Cor.  v.  10,  i.  316. 
The  same  body  of  Clinst  arose,  and 

wiiy,  i.  313—  HO. 
How  the  Scripture  constantly  speaks 

about  it,  i.  327. 
Revelation,  an  unquestionable  ground 

of  assent,  ii.  192,  §  14. 
Belief,  no  proof  of  it,  ii.223,  §  15. 
Traditional  revelation  cannot  convey 

any  new  simple  ideas,  ii.  211,  §  3. 
Not  so  sure  as  our  reason,  or  senses, 

ii.212,  §4. 
In  things  ol  reason,  no  need  of  revela- 
tion, ii.  212,  §  5. 
Cannot  overrule  our  clear  knowledge, 

ibid.  §  5  :  ii.  216,  §  10. 
Mus'  oveirule  probabilities  of  reason, 

ii.  215,  §8,9. 
Reward,  what,  i.  330,  §  5. 
Rhetoric,  an  art  of  deceiving,  ii.  40, 

§34. 


Sagacity,  ii.  63,  §  3. 
Same,  whether  substance,  mode,  or  con- 
crete, i.  313,  §  28. 
Sand,  white  to  the  eye,  pellucid  in  a 

microscope,  i.  274,  §11; 
Schools,  wherein  faulty,  ii.  23,  §  6,  &c. 
Science,  divided  into  a  consideration  of 
nature,  of  operation,  and  of  signs, 
ii.  236. 
No  science  of  natural  bodies,  ii.  103, 
§29. 
Scripture  :  interpretations  of  Scripture 

not  to  be  imposed,  ii.  24,  §  23. 
Self,  what  makes  it,  i.  309,  §  20  :  i.  310, 
311,  §23,  24,  25. 
Self-love,  i.  367,  §2. 
Partly  cause  of  unreasonableness  in 
us,  ibid. 
Self-evident  propositions,  where  to  be 
had,  ii.  129,  Sic. 
Neither  needed  nor  admitted  proof,  ii. 
143,  §  19. 
Sensation,  i.  108,  §  3. 

Distinguishable  from   other  percep- 
tions, ii.  67,  §  14. 
Explained,  i.  138,  §  21. 
What,  i.  211,  §  1. 
Senses,  why  we  cannot  conceive  other 
qualities,  than  the  objects  of   our 
senses,  i.  122,  §  3. 
Learn  to  discern  by  exercise,  ii.  49, 

§21. 
3Iuch  quicker  would  not  be  useful  to 

us,  i.  275,  §  12. 
Our  organs  of  sense   suited  to  our 
state,' i.  275,  276,  §  12,  13. 
Sensible  knowledge  is  as  certain  as  wc 
need,  ii.  165,  §  8. 
Sensible  knowledge  goes  not  beyond 
^hc  pre°f  nt  act.  ii.  166,  $  P. 


Shame,  i.  216,  §  17. 
Simple  ideas,  i.  120,  §  1. 

Not  made  by  the  mind,  ibid.  §  2. 
Power  of  the  mind  over  them,  i.  161 

§1. 
The  materials  of  all  our  knowledge. 

i.  132,  §  10. 
All  positive,  i.  132,  §  1. 
Very  different  frum  their  causes,  i. 
132,  133,  §2,3. 
Sin,  with  different  men,  stands  for  dif- 
ferent actions,  i.  86,  §  19. 
Skeptical, no  one  so  akept  cal?s  o  Joubt 

his  own  existence,  ii.  153,  §  2. 
Solidity,  i.  121,  j  1. 

Inseparable  from  body,  i.  124,  y  I. 
By  it  body  tills  space,  i.  125,  j  2. 
This  idea  got  by  touch,  i.  124,  8  i. 
How  distinguished  from  space,  i.  12". 

^3. 
How  from  hardness,  i.  126,  $_  4. 
Something  from  eternity  demonstrated. 

ii.  153,  S  3  :  ii.  155,  C.  8. 
Sorrow,  i.  215,  ^  8. 

Soul  thinks  not  always,  i.  Ill,  ',  9,  fee, 
Not  in  sound  sleep,  i.  1 12,  j  11,  &c. 
Its  immateriality,  we  know  not,  ii. 

70—89,  $  6 :  ii.  79,  &c. 
Religion,  not  concerned  in  the  soul's 

immateriality,  ii.  70 — 90,  }  6. 
Our  ignorance  about  it,  i.  313,  h  27. 
The  immortality  of  it,  not  proved  by 

reason,  ii'.  81,  &c. 
It  is  brought  to  light  by  revelation, 
ibid. 
Sound,  its  modes,  i.  209,  g  3. 
Space,  its  idea  got  by  sight  and  touch,  j 
161,5  2. 
Its  modifications,  i.  162,  5  4. 
Not  body,  i.  165,  §  11,  12. 
Its  parts  inseparable,  i.  166,  5  13. 
Immoveable,  ibid,  Q  14. 
Whether  body,  or  spirit,  i.  167,  j  16. 
Whether  substance,   or  accident,  i. 

167,  '  17. 
Infinite, i.  16S, }  2l  j  i.  198,5  4. 
Ideas  of  space   and  body  distinct,   i 

170,  171,  J  24,  25. 
Considered  as  a  solid,  i.  192,  {11. 
Hard  to  conceive  any  real  being  void 

of  space,  i.  192,  {11. 
Species ;    why  changing  one  simple 
idea  of  the  complex  one  is  thought 
to  chauge  the  species  in  modes,  but 
not  in  substances,  ii.  34,  j  19. 
Of  animals   and   vegetables,  mostly 
distinguished    by    figure,    i.  424. 
{  29. 
Of  other  things,   by  colour,  i.  425. 

J  29. 
Made  by  the  understanding,  for  com- 
munication, i.  406,  5  9. 
No  species  of  mixed  modes  without  u 

name,  i.  407,  {11. 
Of  «"bvtanceq.  m'£  determined  bvtlit 


376 


INDEX. 


nominal  essence,  i,  41  J,  415,  417, 
&e.  j  7,  8,11,  13. 

\ot    bv     substantial    forms,  i.  415, 

STor  bv  the  real  essence,  ii.  418,  {  IS  : 
i.  421,  j  %b. 

Of  spirits,  how  distinguished,  i.  415, 
$  11. 

More  species  of  creatures  above  than 
below  us,  i.  41*5,  §  12. 

Of  creatures  very  gradual,  i.  4l7, 
5  12. 

What  is  necessary  to  the  making  of 
species,  bv  real  essences,  i.  418, 
§  14,  &e.  " 

Of  animals  and  plants,  cannot  be 
distinguished  by  propagation,  i. 
420,  \  23. 

Of  animals  and  vegetables,  distin- 
guished principally  by  the  shape 
and  figure  ;  of  other  things,  by  the 
colour,  i.  425,  \  29. 

Of  man,  likewise,  in  part,  i.  422, 
\  26. 

[natance,  Abbot  of  St.  Martin,  i.  423, 
\  26. 

Is  but  a  partial  conception  of  what  is 
in  the  individuals,  i.  427,  \  32. 

ft  is  the  complex  idea, which  the  name 
stands  for,  that  makes  the  species,  i. 
429,  \  35. 

Man  makes  the  species,  or  sorts,  i. 
429,  430,  \  36,  37. 

The  foundation  of  it  is  in  the  simili- 
tude found  in  things,  ibid.  J  36,  37. 

Every  distinct,  abstract  idea  makes  a 
different  species,  i.430,  \  38. 
Speech,  its  end,  i.  375,  \  1,2. 

Proper  speech,  i.  380,  \  8. 

Intelligible,  ibid. 
Spirits  the  existence  of  spiritsnot  know- 
able,  ii.  167,5  12. 

How  it  is  proved,  ibid. 

Operation  of  spirits  on  bodies  not 
conceivable,  ii.  102,  \  28. 

What  knowledge  they  have  of  bodies, 
ii.  50,  §  23. 

Separate,  how  their  knowledge  may 
exceed  ours,  i.  150,  \  9. 

We  have  as  clear  a  notion  of  the  sub- 
stance of  spirit  as  of  body,  i.  271, 

»■*. 

A  conjecture,  concerning  one  way  ol 

knowledge  wherein  spirits  excel 

us,  i.  276,  \  13. 
Our  ideas  of  spirit,  i.  277,  }  15. 

As  clear  as  that  of  body,  ibid.  :  i. 

279,  \  22. 
Primary  ideas  belonging  to  spirits,  i. 

278,  \  18. 

Move,  i.  278,  279,  $  19,20. 

Ideas  of  spirit  and  body  compared,  i. 

279,  j  22  :  i.  284,  {  30. 

The  existence  of  spirits,  as  easy  to  be 


admitted,  as  that  of  bodies,  i.  £C2 
£23. 

We  have  no  idea  how  spirits  commu- 
nicate their  thoughts,  i.  286,  \  36. 

How  far  we  are  ignorant  of  the  being, 
species,  and  properties  of  spirits,  ii. 
101,5  27. 

The  word,  spirit,  does  not  necessarily 
denote  immateriality,  ii.  71. 

The    Scripture    speaks    of   material 
spirits,  ii.  72. 
Stupidity,  i.  150, \  8. 
Substance,  i.  265,  }  1. 

No  idea  of  it,  i.  101,  \  18. 

Not  very  knowable,  ibid. 

Our  certainty,  concerning  substances, 
reaches  but  a  little  way,  ii.  110. 
5  11,12:  ii.  128,  \  15. 

The  confused  idea  of  substance  in 
general,  makes  always  a  part  of 
the  essence  of  the  species  of  sub- 
stances, i.  419,  \  21. 

In  substances,  we  must  rectify  the 
signification  of  their  names,  by  the 
things,  more  than  by  definitions, 
ii.  50,  }  24. 

Their  ideas  single,  or  collective,  i. 
154,  \  6. 

We  have  no  distinct  idea  of  sub- 
stance, i.  167,168,  \  18,  19. 

We  have  no  idea  of  pure  substance, 
i.  266.  267,  {  2. 

Our  ideas  of  the  sorts  of  substances. 
i.  268— 271,5  3,4:  i.  27l,  \  6. 

Observables,  in  our  ideas  of  substan- 
ces, i.  287,  h  37. 

Collective  ideas  of  substances,  i.  2? 8, 
&c. 

They  are  single  ideas,  i.  290,  \  2. 

Three  sorts  of  substances,  i.  297,  }  2. 

The  ideas  of  substances  have  in  the 
mind  a  double  reference,  i.  353,  \  6. 

The  properties  of  substances  nume- 
rous, and  not  all  to  be  known,  i. 
356,  }  9,  10. 

The  perfectest  ideas  of  substances,  i. 
272,  J  7. 

Three  sorts  of  ideas  make  our  com- 
plex one  of  substances,  i.  273,  \  9. 

Substance,  not  discarded  by  the  essay, 
i.  267,  &c.  note. 

The  author's  account  of  it  as  clear 
as  that  of  noted  logicians,  i.  268, 
Sec.  note. 

We  talk  like  children  about  it,  i.  266, 
5  2  :  i.  269,  note. 

The  author  makes  not  the  being  of  it 
depend  on  the  fancies  of  men,  i.  265, 
&c.  note. 

Idea  of  it  obscure,  ii.  70,  &c.  note. 

The  author's  principles  consist  with 
the  certainty  of  its  existence,  i.  265. 
note. 
Subtilty,  what.  ii.  28, $  8. 


INBLi. 


.177 


Succession,  an    idea  got  chiefly  from 

the  train  of  our  ideas,  i.  131,  {  9  :  i. 

175,  {  6. 
Which  train  is  the  measure  of  it,  i. 

177,  j  12. 
Summuin  hunum,  wherein  it  consists,  i. 

24-1,  j  55. 
Sun,  the   name  of   a    species,   though 

but  one,  ii.  410,  }  1. 
Syllogism,  no  help  to  reasoning,  ii.  195, 

The  use  of  syllogism,  ibid. 
Inconvenicncies  of  syllogism,  ibid. 
Of  no  use  in  probabilities,  ii  202,  ,:  5. 

Helps  not  to  new  discoveries,  ibid. 

Or  the  improvement  of  our  know- 
ledge, ii.  203,  5,  7. 

Whether,  in  syllogism,  the  middle 
terms  may  not  be  better  placed,  ii. 
204,  J  8. 

May  be  about  particulars,  ii.  203,  8  8. 


Taste  and  smells,  their  modes,  i.  210, 

$5. 
Testimony,  how   it  lessens  its  force, 

ii.  189,  190,  j  10. 
Thinking,  i.  211. 
Moles  of  thinking,  ibid.  5  l^i.  212, 

}2. 
Men  s  ordinary  way  of  thinking,  ii. 

115,}  4. 
An  operation  of  the  soul,  i.  Ill,  j  10. 
W  Uhout  memory,  useless,  i.  114,  {  15. 
Time,  what,  i.  17!),  }  17,  IS. 

^ot  the   mea-ure  of  motion,  i.  181, 

}22. 
And  Place,  distinguishable  portions  of 

infinite  duration  and  expansion,  i. 

183,  §  5,  6. 
Two-fold,  i.  1S8,  189,  )  6,7. 
Denominations  from  time  are  rela- 
tives, i.  295,  J  3. 
Toleration,  necessary    in   our  state  of 

knowledge,  ii.  186,  {  4. 
Tradition,  the  older,  the  less  credible, 

ii.  189,  190,  }  10. 
Trifling  propositions,  ii.  144. 

D    ...  (rses,  ii.  149.  150,  J  9,  H),  11. 
Truth,  what,   ii.  115,  \  2  :  ii.  116,  §5: 

ii.  1  18,  )  9. 
Of  thought,  ii.  1  IS,  §  3  :  ii.  H8,  \  9. 
Of  words  ii.  115,  {  3. 
Verbal  and  real,  ii.  H8,  }  8,  9. 
Moral,  ii.  119,  j  11. 

Metaphysical,  i.  .559,  \  2  :  ii.  119,  \  11. 
General,  seldom  apprehended,  but  in 

words,  ii.  120,  )  2. 
In  what  it  consists,  ii.  1 16,  8_  5. 
Love  of  it  necessary,  ii.  217,  §  1. 
How  we  may  know  we  love  it,  i».  217, 

J1' 


\  . 


Vacuum  possible,  i.  169,  }  22. 

Motion  proves  a  vacuum,  i.  170,8  23. 
We  have  an  idea  of  it,  i.  125,  8  3:  i. 

127, ;  5. 

Variety  in    men's  pursuits,    accounted 

for  J.  244,{64,&c. 
Virtue,  what,  in  reality,  i.  85,  8  18. 
What   in  its  common  application,  i. 

80,  8  10,  11. 
Is  preferable,  under  a  bare  possibi- 
lity of  a  future  state,  i.  253,  254, 
5  70. 
How  taken,  i.  85,  §  17,  18. 
Vice  lies  in  wrong  measures  of  good,  ii. 

234,  *  16. 
Understanding,  what,  i.  219,  220,  {  5,6. 
Like  a  dark  room,  i.  15'!,  J  17. 
When  rightly  used,  i.  53,  jj  5. 
Three  sorts  of  perception  in  the  un- 
derstanding, i.  220,  ^  5. 
Wholly  passive    in  the  reception  of 
simple  ideas,  i.  119,  §  25. 
Uneasiness   alone   determines   the  will 
to  a   new   action,  i.  229,  Sec.  8  29, 
31.33,  &c. 
Why  it  determines  the  will,  i.  235, 

234,  }  36,  37. 
Causes  of  it,  i.  246,  }  57.  &C. 
Unity,  an  idea,  both   of  sensation  and 
reflection,  i.  131,  J  7. 
Suggested  by  every  thing,  i.  193,  {  1. 
Universality,  is  only  in  signs, i.  385,  }  11. 
Universals,  how  made.  i.  155,8  9. 
Volition,  what,  1.220,  }  5  :  i.  223,  {  15  : 
i.  22$  j  23. 
Better    known    by  reflection,  than 
words,  i.  230,  §  30. 
Voluntary,  what,   i.  220,  {  5:    i.  222. 
5  11  :  i.229,  {27. 

W. 

What  is,  is,  is  not  universally  assented 

toi.  61,}  4. 
Whore  and  when,  i.  189,  8.  8. 
Whole  bigger  than  its  parts,  its  use, 

ii.  135,  }   11. 
And  part  not  innate  ideas,  i.  92, }  6. 
Will,  what,   i.   219.  220,  }  5,  6:   1.224, 

j  16  :   i.  229,  ]  29. 
Whatd  termmes  the  will,  ib.  }  £9. 
Often  confounded  with  desire,  i.  230, 

{30. 
Is  conversant   only  about  our  own 

actions,  i   230,  }'  30. 
Terminates  in  them,  i.  236,  {  40. 
Is  determined  by  the  greatest,  present 

removeable  uneasiness,  ib. 
Wit  and  judgment,  wherein  different,  i. 

152,'}  2. 
Words,  an  ill  use  of  words,  one  great 

hinderance  of  knowledge,  ii.  104. 

'  30. 


378 


INDEX. 


Abuse  of  -words,  ii.  25. 

Sects  introduce  words  without  signi- 
fication, ib.  §  2. 

The  schools  have  coined  multitudes 
of  insignificant  words,  ib.  5_  2. 

And   rendered  others  obscure,  ii.  28, 

Often   used  without  signification,  ti. 

26,  $  3. 
And  why,  ii.  27,  {  5. 
Inconstancy  in  their  use,  an  abuse  of 

words,  ibid.  §  5. 
Obscurity,  an  abuse  of  words,  ii.  28, 

§6. 
Taking  them  for  things,  an  abuse  ol 

words,  ii.  3 1,32,  $  14,1.5. 
Who  most    liable  to  this  abuse  of 

words,  ibid. 
This  abuse  of  words  is  a  cause  of 

obstinacy  in  error,  ii.  32,  §  16. 
Making  them  stand  for  real  essences, 

which  we  know  not,  is  an  abuse  of 

words,  ii.  33,  34,  §  17,  18. 
The  supposition  of  their  certain,  evi- 

dent    signification,    an    abuse     of 

•words,  ii.  36,  {  22. 
Use  of  words,  is,  1.  To  communicate 

ideas.     2.  With  quickness.    3.  To 

convey    knowledge,  ii.  37,  §  23. 

24,  25. 
How  they  fail  in  all  these,  ii.  38, 

§  26,  &c. 
How  in  substances,  ii.  39,  {  32. 
How  in   modes  and  relations,  ibid. 

$  33. 
Misuse  of  words,  a  great  cause  of  er- 
ror, ii.  42,  J  4. 
Of  obstinacy,  ii.  42,  j  6. 
And  of  wrangling,  42,  \  6. 
Signify  one  thing,  in  inquiries  ;  and 

another  in  disputes,  ii.  43,  J  7. 
The  meaning  of  words  is  made  known, 

in  simple  ideas,  by  showing,  ii.  46, 

}  14. 
In  mixed  modes,  by  defining,  ibid. 

§  15. 
In  substances,  by  showing  and  defi- 
ning too,  ii.  48,  \  19 :  ii.  49,  50, 

$  21,22. 
The  ill  consequence  of  learning  words 


first,  and  their  meaning  afterward, 

ii.  50, }  24. 
No  shame  to  ask  men  the  meaning  of 

their  words,  where  they  are  doubt- 
ful, ii.  51,  *.  25. 
Are  to  be  used  constantly  in  the  same 

sense,  ii.  53,  §  26. 
Or  else  to  be  explained,  where  the 

context  determines  it  not,  ii.  53,527. 
How  made  general,  i.  375,  §_  3. 
Signifying  insensible  things,  derived 

from  names  of  sensible  ideas,  i.  376, 

$5. 
Have  no  natural  signification,  i.  377, 

}1- 

But  by  imposition,  i.  380,  j  8. 

Stand   immediately   for  the  ideas  of 

the  speaker,  i.  377,  373,  {  1, 2, 3. 
Yet  with  a  double  reference- 

1.  To  the  ideas,  in  the  hearer's  mind, 
i.  379,  $  4. 

2.  To  the  reality  of  things,  i.  379,  j  5. 
Apt,  by  custom,  to  excite  ideas,  i.  • 

379,  }  6. 

Often  used  without   signification,  i. 

380.  §  7. 

Most  general,).  381,  J  1. 

Why  some  words  of  one  language 

cannot  be  translated  into  those  of 

another,  i.  405,  }  8. 
Why  I  have  been  so  large  on  words,  i. 

409,  }  16. 
New  words,  or  in  new  significations, 

are  cautiously  to  be  used,  i.  436.  §51. 
Civil  use  of  words,  ii.  13,  {  3. 
Philosophical  use  of  words,  ii.  14,  j  3. 
These  very  different,  ii.  20,  §  15. 
Miss  their  end,  when  they  excite  not, 

in  the  hearer,  the  same  idea,  as  in 

the  mind  of  the  speaker,  ii.  14,  §  4. 
What  words  are  most  doubtful,  and 

why,  ibid.  §_  5,  &c. 
What  unintelligible,  ibid. 
Are  fitted  to  the  use  of  common  life, 

ii.  13,  $  2. 
Not  translatable,  i.  405, }  8. 
Worship  not  an  innate  idea,  i.  93, }  7. 
Wrangle,    when    we    wrangle    about 

words,  ii.  150,  §  13. 
Writings  ancient,  why  hardly  to  be  pre-- 

oieely  understood,  ii.  24,  §  22. 


INDEX- 


TO  tiii: 


ADDITIONAL   PIECES. 


SECOND  VOLUME. 


A. 


Air,  its  uature  and  properties,  329. 
Animals,  how  divided,  335. 
Anticipation,  or  first  conceived  opinions, 

hinder  knowledge.  291. 
Aristotle's  Rhetoric  commended,  321. 
Assent,  how  it  maybe  rightly  given, 293. 
Association   of  ideas,  a  disease  of  the 

understanding,  306,  &c. 
how  to  prevent  and  cure 

it,  ibid. 
Atmosphere,  its  nature  and  extent,  329. 
Attraction  of  bodies,  324. 

whether  explicable,  324. 

Atwood,  (William)  319. 


B. 


Bacon,  (lord)  his  history  of  Henry  VII. 

321. 
Baudrand,  his  dictionary  commended, 

322. 
Bayle's  Dictionary  commended,  ibid. 
Belief,  what  it  is,  342. 
Bergeron,     (Peter)     his    collection    of 

voyages,  320. 
Bernier,  his  Memoirs  of  the  Grand  Mo- 
gul commended,  ibid. 
Blood,  the  circulation  of  it,  336. 
Bodies, luminous,  pellucid,  and  opaque, 

337,  338. 
Boileau,   his    translation  of  Longinus 

commended,  318. 
Bottom  of  a  question  should  be  sought 

for,  311. 
Bractou,  that  author  commended,  319. 
Brady,  commended,  ibid. 
Brown,  his  travels  commended,  320. 
Bmyere,  his  Characters,  a  fine  pie<:e  of 

painting,  321. 


Burnet,  bishop  of  3arum,  his  history  of 
the  Reformation  commended,  ibid. 


C. 


Caesar,  his  commentaries,  318. 

Calepin,  his  dictionary  commended, 
322. 

Camden,  his  Britannia  commended,320. 

Cange;  (Charles  du)  his  Glossariuin 
*  Mediae  et  infinite  Latinitatis  com- 
mended, 322. 

Cannon-bullet,  how  long  it  would  be  in 
coming  from  the  sun  to  the  earth, 
328. 

Cervantes,  his  Don  Quixote,  321. 

Ohillingworth,  his  eulogium,  318. 

Chronology,  books  that  treat  of  it,  321 . 

Common-place-book,  Mr  Locke's  new 
method  of  making  one,  343,  <fcc. 

Coniines,  (Philip  dc)  his  memoirs  re- 
commended, 321. 

Coke,  (lord)  his  second  Institutes  com- 
mended, 319. 

Cooper,  his  dictionary  commended,322. 


D. 


Dampier,  his  voyages  commended,  320. 

Daniel,  his  history  commended,  321. 

Despondency  of  attaining  knowledge,  a 
great  hinderance  to  the  mind,  303. 

Dictionaries,  how  necessary,  322. 

the  heat  of  them  mention- 
ed, ibid. 

Desultoriness,  often  misleads  the  under- 
standing, 230. 

Distinction,  how  it  differs  from  division, 
295. 

how  the   understanding  is 

improved  by  arizht  "u<"  of  i*,ibi<'?. 


380 


INDEX. 


Ethics,  the  Gospel  a  sufficient  system 
thereof,  319. 


Fallacies,   how    the    understanding   is 

misguided  by  them,  3{j8. 
Fleta,  3~!9. 
Fundamental  truths,  the  mind  should 

chiefly  apply  itself  to  them,  310. 

G. 

Gage,  (Thomas)  his  travels  commend- 
ed, 320. 

Gentleman,  what  studies  more  immedi- 
ately belong  to  his  calling,  317. 

,  what  books   he  ought  to 

read,  318,  &c. 

Geography,  books  that  treat  of  it,  320. 


H. 


Hackluyt,  his  collection  of  voyages 
commended,  3^0. 

Haste,  when  too  great,  often  misleads 
the  understanding,  279. 

Helvicus,  his  chronology  commended, 
321. 

Henningham,  or  rather  Hangham,  (sir 
Ralph  de)  319. 

Herbert  of  Cherbury,  (Edward,  lord) 
his  life  of  Henry  VIII.  commend- 
ed, 321. 

lleylin,  his  Cosmography  mentioned, 
320. 

History,  books  that  treat  of  general, 
ibid  ;  and  of  the  history  of  particu- 
lar countries,  ibid. 

Hoffman,  his  dictionary  commended, 
322. 

Horace,  321. 

Howell,  his  history  of  the  world  recom- 
mended, 320. 

Iluygens,  his  Cosmotheoros  commend- 
ed, 327. 

I. 

Identity,  the  author's  opinion  of  it  de- 
fended, 24 1 ,  &c. 

Ignorance,  not  so  bad  as  groundless 
assurance,  301. 

how  it  should  be  removed, 

ibid. 

Indifferency  for  all  truth  should  be 
cherished,  274. 

the  ill  consequences  of  the 

want  of  it,  299. 

Juvenal  commended,  321. 

K. 
KnoTvlbdge,  wherein  it  consists.  317. 


Knowledge,  the  extent  of  it,  cannot 
exceed  the  extent  of  our  idea?, 
ibid. 

L. 

Littleton,    his   dictionary  commended. 

322. 
Lloyd,  his  dictionary,  ibid. 

M. 

Mariana,  his  history  of  Spain  commend- 
ed, 321. 

Mathematics,  the  usefulness  of  studying 
them,  269.  &c. 

Melvil  (James,)  his  memoirs  commend- 
ed, 321. 

Metals,  several  sorts  of  them,  333. 

Meteors,  330. 

Minerals,  are  vegetables,  334. 

Modus  tenendi  Parliamentum,  319. 

Moll  (Herman)  his  geography  com- 
mended, 320. 

Morality,  the  best  books  that  treat  of  it. 
318. 

Moreri,  his  historical  dictionary  com- 
mended, 322. 


O. 


Observation,  very  useful  to    improve 

knowledge,  276. 
Opinion,  no  one  should  be  wished  to  be 

true,  273. 


P 


Paxton,  his  Civil  Polity  commended, 

319. 
Partiality  in  studies,  284. 
it  misleads  the  understanding. 

284. 
Parts,  or  abilities,  their  difference,  258. 
may  be  improved  by  a  due  con. 

duct  of  the  understanding,  ibid. 
Persius  commended, 321. 
Perseverance   in    study,  necessary  to 

knowledge,  302. 
Personal  identity,  the  author's  opinion 

of  it  defended,  241,  fee. 
Perspicuity    in    speak. ng,    wherein   it 

consists,  318. 

— — and  how  to  obtain  it,  ibid. 

Petavius,  his  Chronology  commended. 

321. 
Petit,  his   Rights  of  the  Commons  of 

England,  commended,  319. 
Plants,    their  several    sorts,    nourish- 
ment, and  propagation,  335. 
Politics,  contain  two  parts,  319. 
Practice,  or  exercise  of  the  mind  should 

not  be  beyond  its  strength,  292. 
Practice,  the  understanding  is  improve''' 

by  it.  2fi2. 


INDEX. 


379 


Prejudice*,  every  oue-  should  lind  out, 
and  get  rid  of  his  own,  273. 

Presumption,  a  great  hinderance  to  the 
understanding,  303. 

Principles-,  when  wrong,  are  very  preju- 
dicial, 265,  &c. 

we  should  carefully  examine 

our  own,  274,  &c. 

■  the  usefulness  of  intermediate 


principles,  283. 

Pufiendorf,  his  writings  commended,319. 

Purchas,  his  collection  of  voyages  com- 
mended, 320. 

Pyrar&hia  voyages  commended,  ibid. 


Q. 


Qu<  tion,  should  be  rightly  stated,  be- 
fore arguments  are  used,  302,  &c. 

Quinlilian,  his  Institutiones  commend- 
ed,! 


R 


Hal  :igli  (Sir  Walter.)  his  history  of  the 

World,  320. 
Heading,  how  the  mind  should  be  con- 

^d  in,  282. 
i  ■'■■■  its  end,  317. 

Reasoning,  several  delects  therein  men- 
tioned, 259,  &c. 

1—  how  it  should  be  improved, 

261. 

lleligion,  it  concerns  all  mankind  to  un- 
derstand it  rightly,  271. 

Resignation,  or  fiexibleness,  often  ob- 
structs knowledge,  291. 

Ilochefoucault  (duke  of)  his  memoirs, 
321. 

iloe  (Sir  Thomas)  his  voyage,  320. 

Rush  worth,  hi9  historical  collections, 
commended,  321 . 


S. 


Sagard,  his  voyage  mentioned,  320. 

Sandys,  (George)  his  Voyages,  320. 

-  aliger  de  Emendatione  Temporum, 
321. 

Sedler,  his  rights  of  the  Kingdom,  com- 
mended, 319. 

Seldeu,  his  Titles  of  Honour  commend- 
ed, 322. 

Sidney,  (Algernon)  his  Discourses  con- 
cerning government,  319. 

skinner,  his  Lexicon  commended,  322. 

Society  (civil)  books  that  treat  of  the 
rise  and  nature  of  civil  society,  319. 

Spelman,  his  Glossary  commended,  322. 

State  tracts,  two  collections  of  them, 
commended,  319. 

Stephens  (Robert,)  his  Thesaurus  Lin- 
nflB  Latinae  rommended,  322. 


Stones  are  real  vegetables,  334. 
Strauchius,  his  Chronology  commended, 
321. 


J 


Tallent's  Tables  of  Chronology  recom- 
mended, 321. 

Terence,  318. 

Thevenot,  his  collection  of  Voyages, 
320. 

Theology,  should  be  studied  by  all  men, 

271, -2:;  I. 

Thuanus,  his  History  of  his  own  Time;. 

commended,  321. 
Tillotson,  archbishop  of  Canterbury. 

his  elogium,  318. 
Transferring  of  thoughts  not  easily  at- 
tained, 311. 
causes  of  the  difficulty  of 

doing  it,  312. 
Transferring,  how  this  difficulty  may  b." 

overcome.  314. 
Travels,  books  of  travels  and  voyages 

commended.,  320. 
Tully,  his  books  de  Oratore  and  de  Offi- 

ciis  commended,  318,  319. 
Tyrrel,  (James)  his  History  of  England 

commended,  319. 


V. 


Vegetables,  an  account  of  them,  334. 
Understanding  of  man,  its  operations, 

317. 
how  it  may  be  improved. 

263,  317. 
man's  last  resort  to  it  fer 


conduct,  257. 

to  be  improved  by  practice 


and  habit,  263. 

wherein  the  last  judgment 


of  it  consists,  278,  &c. 
Universality    of    knowledge,    how    it 

should  be  pursued,  280. 
Vossius  (Gerhard  John)  his Etymologj- 

cum  Linguae  Latinx,  commended, 

322. 
Voyages,  see  Travels. 


W 


Wandering,  we  should  endeavour  tt- 
keep  our  minds  from  it,  294. 

Whear,  his  Methodus  legendi  Histo- 
rias,  commended,  320. 

Words,  should  not  be  used  without  p 
fixed  sense,  293. 


Year,  made  by  the  revolution  of  i  h* 
earth  about  the  sun,  328. 


THE  END. 


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